Showing posts with label it sounded better in my head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label it sounded better in my head. Show all posts

Blithe Bulldozer of Bodgery

Posted on 9/15/2011 10:29:00 AM In:
For a few years, we were obsessed with this British show called Junkyard Wars, which, I believe, aired on the Discovery Channel.  Want to know how obsessed? We once spent nine hours at someone else's house, lying on the living room carpet, eating junk food, watching the Junkyard Wars marathon because each and every one of us Could. Not. Look. Away.

Junkyard Wars is where I first heard the British expression "bodged together."  Incidentally, it's also where I first heard the phrase "drawn reciprocating dingle-arm with sinusoidal repleneration mounted on a base plate of pre-framulated amulite."  Can you believe I lived to adulthood without incorporating that into my vocabulary?

Now, there's a new version of this idea on the Science Channel, called Stuck with Hackett.  All I have to say about that is it's a good thing we discovered this one early on in the show's history because there aren't enough episodes to have a marathon yet, and so we only waste an hour at a time watching this dude make a washing machine and drier out of car parts and improvised flame throwers.

When we had our beautiful briny sea event in the basement last week, The KingofHearts stayed up all night that first night with a shop vac and a dream.  A dream that he could one day suck up all the water entering our basement and empty it into an inside drain connected to a sewer faster than Mother Nature could replenish the water in the outside stairwell. I believe I woke up around 1:00 am to the sound of a vacuum motor coming from the basement, but in my sleep-addled haze, it didn't really occur to me that this was an ongoing thing and I fell back asleep. 

Anyway, for whatever reason, he felt like he could handle it and chose not to wake me up.  When I woke again at 4:00 am and still heard the sound of the shop vac, I realized what he'd been doing all night and actually got out of bed to see if he needed help. 

"Have you been doing this all night?"

"Only since about 9:00."

Lesson the first:  Mother Nature is more powerful than us all.  Just ask my friend who lives in New Orleans in a house that sits three-quarters of a foot above sea level (considered high ground in NOLA, by the way)...  a newly rebuilt house.  

I took over shop vac duty while he went to Lowes to purchase a little pump motor.  When I wrote this post, The KingofHearts had attached it to two hoses, one went into the outside dry well and sucked the water up, while the other - our garden hose - emptied that water out in the driveway.  By plugging it in, one could empty out all the water and keep it from coming up under the door.  And if the drywell was empty enough, the ground water drained into it and stopped coming in under the basement walls.  It worked and didn't require picking up a ten gallon shop vac full of water every fifteen minutes and emptying it into the sink.

Lesson the second:  ten gallons of water + one shop vac - three wheels + a drain in a sink three feet off the ground = approximately ninety-three point four pounds + a colossal backache.  I had only taken over shop vac duty for a few short minutes before I developed this equation.

What his little contraption did require, however, was someone to to sit near the motor and plug it in for it to begin to work.  Then when the drain was emptied, it needed to be unplugged to turn it off so the motor didn't burn out pumping air.  For most of Thursday as it continued to rain, I sat in the basement room plugging and unplugging that thing every fifteen minutes while allowing my kids to watch insane amounts of television unsupervised upstairs, so The KingofHearts could catch up on the sleep he'd missed the night before.

By Thursday night, it was still raining, and someone still needed to plug and unplug the motor.  I mentioned in some off-hand comment that it'd be really cool if there was some kind of a switch that could turn the motor off and on.... like.... oh maybe... a sump pump?  Since we've been talking about putting a sump pump in for a couple of years, but never really got around to it, it was a bit of a sore spot.

I insisted that we spell each other on the task so neither of us had to stay up all night again and he said he'd stay up until midnight and then wake me to cover the duty so he could sleep the rest of the night.  When he came to bed, I got up to go downstairs and spell him, but he stopped me. 

"You don't have to do it."

"Well, I'm not letting you stay up all night again."

"No, I mean, I fixed it.  Neither of us has to."

"What do you mean?"

"I made a switch to turn the motor on and off."

"From...?"

"Stuff I found in the basement."

Indeed.  

Let me take you on a tour of his bodged-together self-starting sump-pump.

Black motor to the right causes green hose to suck water up from drain.
Switch from neighbor's old sump pump attached to float (like the one that's inside a toilet) goes down inside drain.  Only the floater ball we had did not fit inside the hole.  So he took that off and replaced it with a plastic cup filled with foam.  Water pushes cup/float up, which pushes switch arm up and turns motor on. 2x4s hold the whole thing in place.
Motor sucks water in and pumps it out through gray garden hose.  Excess extension cords allow motor to connect to electricity without opening basement door, thus ensuring no one enters house at night and kills us in our sleep.
Gray garden hose takes water up through basement stairwell, out down driveway...
...and empties water into gutter in front of house, to run down street into storm drain.

Voila!  Poor man's sump pump.

I know I make fun of my husband probably too much, and, truth be told, he gives us all a lot to laugh at.  So laugh if you want - I've already considered submitting these photos to this website - but this little contraption allowed us both to sleep that night.  


Or something like that. 

Thus endeth the lesson.

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DSoapdish

Posted on 6/19/2011 05:06:00 AM In:

Manager:  What is your name?
Tick:  Nick.
Manger:  Mr. ...?
Tick:   Wait, no one told me we had to....uhhh...Mr.... Nick... Soap Dish. It's...uh...French.
Manager:  Really? Sounds... made up... to me.




The KingofHearts works at an undisclosed location where he does some technical, engineery-type stuff that he will be happy to bore you with should you need that information... or even if you don't. This is a story I've been dying to tell but out of respect for one of his colleagues who may have stumbled upon this blog, and who has already endured more than his share of ribbing, I've refrained until now. 

Now that that dude has quit and moved across the country, I don't feel so beholden to him anymore.

About a year or so ago they hired a new guy at The Company... let's call him Derek. Derek was a nice guy from a smaller town who didn't always catch the gotcha-kind-of-humor the other lame-stream engineers enjoyed. 

Everyone was quite kind in welcoming him to The Company, so when the subject of nicknames came up, he didn't realize that people were yanking his chain.  The way I heard it told, someone suggested that in order to work in there, he'd need a good nickname.  Like T-Bone... or Liza... you know, a name that makes people light up.

Helpful engineer #1, "What's your nickname?"

Derek questioned, "Nickname?"

"Yeah, dude.  Everyone here has a nickname," explains helpful engineer #1.

"Well, I never had a nickname before," Derek replies.

"Well, ya gotta have a nickname to work here," adds helpful engineer #2.

"We could give you one," says my helpful husband.

"Ok!" says Derek, maybe a little too excited to be given a nickname. 

Helpful engineer dude #1 brightens, "Hey!  What about D-Bags?"

"Yeah!  That's an awesome nickname," encourages engineer dude #2.

They're both being sarcastic, by the way, but this is lost on our friend Derek, who is too nice and thinks too highly of people to assume the worst from them.

My husband, always the instigator, was supportive of his colleagues, "Yeah, D-Bags is an awesome nickname.  We should totally call you that!"

Derek, being unaware of the less-than-positive connotation of the term, could think of not a single reason to object. Maybe it reminded him of Joe-Bags, I don't know.  Whatever the reason, he agreed wholeheartedly.

And so, our friend Derek became D-Bags.  For about a week, everyone at The Company called him that.  And D-Bags was just as happy as he could be about it.  Until another engineer, we'll call him Killjoy Uncle Matty, let the guilt get to him and decided it was just too cruel. 

"Guys, that's just not right.  You need to tell him," Uncle Matty said to the lame-stream engineers.

"Don't you say anything!" the others warned.

But Uncle Matty is nicer than all the others.  And so he floated the idea to D-Bags, without telling him the joke outright, that he should request another nickname.

"Dude, you should get a different nickname."

"Why?  I think it's kind of cool that the guys gave me a nickname."

"No, dude, you need to ask for a new nickname.  D-Bags is Not. A. Good. Nickname."

"Why?"

Now Uncle Matty may be nicer than the others, but that doesn't mean he was willing to shut it down entirely.  Perhaps he was too kind compassionate concerned about his feelings embarassed to explain it to him.  Perhaps he couldn't bear the look on D-Bags's face.  All he would say in the end is, "Just look it up, man."

And so D-Bags did look it up.  And look at the very first google hit on that termAnd that's when D-Bags realized that his new friends at The Company were all, well, D-bags.

You'd think that this would be the last time old D-Bags believed anything anyone said at The Company.  According to TheKingofHearts, he remained just as gullible throughout his entire tenure there and they dragged him down the garden path more than just a few times.

So the moral of the story is:

- and -
Before you accept a cool, new nickname, Google it.
The end.

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Minutiae and the Marital Spat

Posted on 4/28/2011 05:45:00 PM In: , ,

Whenever life gets super stressful for me, the voice in my head shuts off and I have problems coming up with anything to write about on this weblog.  This is one of the main reasons why when people tell me I should quit my job and try to be a writer for a living, I laugh at them.  Because, my dear, when you are a Writer with a capital W, you tend to be required to... you know... write... even if you're uninspired.  When you are a blogger with a lowercase b and you're uninspired, you can always skip a day or two and no one misses a meal because mommy couldn't come up with a good potty training story.  And... as a blogger, if you absolutely must post something, you can always phone it in in the form of photo essays and minutiae posts.

Like this one.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

While downtown on Easter Sunday, my mother and I took The Caterpillar and walked from the Smithsonian metro stop to the Lincoln Memorial and back, which, as it turns out, is a little over three miles altogether.  If I'd bothered to look it up before we walked that far with a three year old and no stroller, I would have balked at the distance.  But since none of us knew any better, we didn't notice until after we boarded the metro and headed home.  Ignorance is bliss.  

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

The Caterpillar was a great trooper on the Toddler Bataan Death March we forced her to take and made the entire trek without a single complaint.  But had we walked any further, I might have had to tape her mouth again because she narrated EVERYthing that happened as it happened.  

We're a verbal group.  Everyone in our family talks a lot and I know overall that's a good thing for kids - they're less likely to be molested by a family friend or priest because everyone knows she's a talker.  Mostly we put up with the constant verbal diarrhea but there are times when YOUR EARS JUST NEED A REST, DUDE.  She Faulkner-esque-ly described everything she saw and/or every thought she had from the crud between her toes, to the color of the cement, to the relative number of items or clothing on women compared to men.  There is not a single thing about which this child does not have an opinion.  I can't even fathom what she'll be like at sixteen.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

On the way back from the Lincoln Memorial, we made a quick stop off at Signers Island, which is maybe one of my favorite places on the National Mall.  We pointed out family of ducks swimming along like they owned the place and stopped to take a photo while The Caterpillar began extolling and expounding upon the virtues and qualities of different types of water. 

This water is "duck water:"


While this water is "alligator water:"


Good to know.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

The KingofHearts interviewed for a couple of jobs last week on the off-chance he can improve his employment and/or commute.  Both prospective opportunities are much closer to home and with gas being over $4 a gallon, even if he were to get an offer at exactly the same salary he's making right now, the savings in fuel costs each week could pretty much be equivalent to a raise - not to mention getting almost two hours of his life back every day.  

Yesterday, he came home and announced, "Sorry, I'm late, I had a job interview on the way home."

Me:  "How'd it go?"

"Well, the interview went really great.  They seem like they're interested and I could see myself working there, buuuut..."

"But?"

"I finished the interview, walked out, got in my car, looked down and realized my fly had been down the entire time."

Call me crazy, but I don't think any offer he gets is going to involve legally-approved transactions.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

Since the day I was born, the music I gravitate to has always come from generations before mine.  Not that I don't like current music too, but the music that speaks to me tends to almost always come from decades before my birth. The KingofHearts bought us tickets to see probably my all-time favorite musical group, Manhattan Transfer, at Blues Alley in Georgetown this week.  I love the Manhattan Transfer because they can take just about any era or musical style and best even the greats who created the style.  But mostly because they sing music I love:  Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, John Coltrane... all the stuff I want to listen to, but the big plus here is the members of this band are all alive.  So you get to see them do it in person as opposed to a remastered CD recording of an old 78 record.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

Blues Alley is a tiny, dark, intimate, old-style jazz club that looks very much how I imagine the original Birdland to have been, so for me, it's almost like going back in time.  The best thing about it being so tiny, is that there isn't a bad seat in the house.  While waiting for them to take the stage, I texted Monica, "At Blues Alley, waiting for show to start.  I'm so close I could spit on Manhattan Transfer."

She texted back, "I'm so not-old, I don't know who Manhattan Transfer is."

Bitch.

Of course, then I looked around and realized that the three people at our table - me, The KoH, and Uncle Matty - were probably the youngest three people in the entire room with the exception of the servers, whom I'm reasonably certain didn't know who Manhattan Transfer was either.

It's like that time we went to a Rush concert and someone asked the waitress what was going on and she said, "Oh, some old-people's band, I think."

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

So we turned our attentions to finding an appropriate cougar for Uncle Matty. But he was all, "I don't need a cougar, I have a girlfriend" and stuff. 

Jerk.

That cougar could have bought him stuff that I could have used too.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

Manhattan Transfer was excellent, by the way.

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah
Don't ask me how this came up in conversation (how does ANYTHING come up in conversation in our house?) but The KingofHearts claims the term badonkadonk is an onomatopoeia and comes from "the sound it makes when you drive over a bump with a lot of junk in your car's trunk. You know, 'ba-DONK... a-DONK.'  And since junk-in-the-trunk is also a word for a big butt, well, you can make the correlation."
Uncle Matty and I called bullshit on this theory and yelled, "Cite your source!"  Then I spent the better part of the next hour ignoring my amazing plate of flan trying to find something, anything, on the interweb that either proved or disproved his theory.  And yes, I know the earliest known mention of it was in a Missy Elliot song (not a Trace Adkins song as some would try to tell you), but that still doesn't speak to the etymology of the phrase.  
Finally, I announced, "Well, I can't find anything one way or another, so I'm going to ask the Tweeple and the FacePlace.
"Well, that's not gonna be accurate," he whined, "because you're just gonna post something like 'my idiot husband says this, tell him how wrong he is.'" 
He has so little faith in me.  I totally removed the word idiot before posting that tweet. Also: Twitter's 140-character-limit wouldn't leave me the room for tell him how wrong he is.
blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah
So I told him that in the absence of any real data, if even one person could, in fact, corroborate that they too, had heard this is where the phrase came from, I would be willing to concede his point.
There you go, internets, prove me wrong.

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We have some relatives in town and The KingofHearts took a day off to show them around.  He decided to spend at least one day at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore.  I was working and couldn't go with them, so before they left in the morning, I said, "Be sure to take them to Fort McHenry.  That's really cool and it would be a good educational experience for the kids.  They can go back to school and tell their teachers they saw it when they get to that lesson in history class."

"Great idea," he said.

Someone asked, "What's Fort McHenry?"

For those who didn't sit through that filmstrip about Francis Scott Key at least fifty times in elementary school like I did, Fort McHenry was a key defensive fort on the Chesapeake Bay for many years and was integral during the War of 1812.  Key happened to be on a British ship in the Bay, attempting to negotiate the release of some prisoners when Baltimore Harbor was attacked by the British.  When the bombing started, diplomatic courtesies were suspended and none of the Americans on the ship was able to return to land.  All they could do was watch the attack on Fort McHenry throughout the night with no news about what was happening.  (A cell phone or two would have made life a lot easier back then!) The next morning when the smoke cleared, Key was thrilled to find that the giant flag General Armisted had ordered made was still flying, which meant that the Fort was still under American control.  Key was inspired to write a poem, which he titled "Defense of Fort McHenry." It was later set to music and popularized as "The Star Spangled Banner."  Weirdly though, it didn't officially become our national anthem until 1931.  Before 1931, there was no official national anthem.  Kinda makes you wonder what they played at the Olympic Medal Ceremonies before then, doesn't it?

Hey, look, 8th grade Social Studies class is good for something after all!

Anyway, it's a really cool star-shaped fort (each of the points being a place where there could be artillery cover for its neighboring points) and there's lots to do.  I think my favorite view of it is from above because you can really see the defensive architecture:


The Wonderland brood, minus me and the girls, spent the whole day at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore and when they came home, I asked how it was. 

Me: "Did you get to go out to Fort McHenry?"

KoH: "Yeah, but it was boring.  There's nothing there."

"Ummmm... there's a fort there."

"I guess, but the only thing at the top is a playground.  I don't know why you told us to go."

"Uh, because it's an historical place.  There's a museum too.  Did you not go inside?"

"There's no museum.  There's just a playground."

"You didn't go inside the fort?  See the armory?  Check out where the soldiers slept?"

"We looked at the cannon, but that was about it.  The kids played on the playground while we just looked around at the Science Center and the Aquarium."

"Last time I was there, there wasn't a playground.  And... You can't really see those things from Fort McHenry.  It's not even in the line of sight. Wait... there's a cannon on Federal Hill, DID YOU JUST TAKE THEM TO FEDERAL HILL AND TELL THEM IT WAS FORT MCHENRY?"

*blink, blink* "Huh?"

Short answer:  yes, that is EXACTLY WHAT HE DID.

For those who don't live in the vicinity, Fort McHenry is point A on the map below and Federal Hill is point B, a little over two miles away:


You can't see Fort McHenry from where they were standing without a magical telescope that looks around corners or at least through buildings.  

This tickles me to no end because a) we have lived in the area for fifteen years, b) as such, we have spent a great deal of time in Baltimore, the Inner Harbor particularly and c) I am almost 100% certain he has accompanied me to Fort McHenry in the past. (Though he now claims this is not true and he had never been there before. Well, he wasn't there this week, at least.)

The great thing is this has given me a new outlook on company and revolutionizes how I will from now on approach tour-guiding out-of-town visitors when they come to stay and want to see the cities... with only minimal effort on my part: don't take people to the actual place; just tell them they're already there. 

See that house across the street from mine?  That's the White House.
See that big retaining wall in the park up the street?  The Vietnam Memorial.

See that spire on top of the liquor store at the end of the road?  Washington Monument.

And now your tour of D.C. and Baltimore is complete.  Let's go eat nachos.

Showing people around town just got easier.

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Goose!

Posted on 6/09/2010 04:05:00 PM In: ,

Here's an oldie but a goodie from the Hilarious Things My Husband Says file:

"Some words are just inherently funny. Take monkey. Now that's just a funny word. If you tell a joke with the word monkey in it - well, then you've got a funny joke. Chicken is funny too - but not as funny as monkey."

Based on that logic, may I present to you:

The Funniest Song Ever Written



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Me: "Hey, what's this?" *holding up an orange tube of some sort of topical cream from the medicine cabinet*

Him: "It's the skin stuff the doctor gave me for that rash on my neck."


"No it's not."


"Yes, it is."


"No. It is not."


"Of course it is."


"No, this is the skin stuff from the doctor." *holding up a similar-sized blue tube*


"Well, then what have I been putting on my neck?"


*gesturing with orange tube* "THIS is athletes' foot medication."


"Well at least I won't get Athletes' Neck."

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It Sounded Better in My Head

Posted on 1/25/2010 06:25:00 AM In:
Preface: This is a rerun of something I wrote a few years ago when Monica asked me to guest post on her blog. Recently, I was looking for one of the quotes contained therein and it took me a day and a half to realize I hadn't ever posted it on my website, but rather hers. So really, the only purpose in posting this here is for ease of searching should I ever want to finish that book. Enjoy.

It occurs to me that if I were reading my own blog, I would think I don’t have much more focus in the universe than funny things my daughter says and observations about parenthood. I actually do have a job, hobbies, interests, friends (ok – that one’s a lie), and philosophies that don’t center on children, being a mom, how much I hate children and being a mom or funny things my kids say.

My husband says some pretty funny stuff too.

Actually I think the reason I married him is because of all the potential amusement I would find in our lives together. Generally, after something odd comes out of his mouth, it's followed by "It sounded better in my head." I’ve been threatening to write a book about all the funny stuff he says for years and when and if I do, it will be titled, It Sounded Better in My Head. So without further adieu, I present:

Alice's List of Hilarious Things Her Husband Says and Will Later Kill Me For Publishing On The Web; He Should At Least Be Happy I Took His Name Out Of Everything

ON FOOD

"I think I'm going to stop eating pork."

"Why?" I - and three others - say expectantly, and in unison... knowing something good was about to come.


"Well, salt is like... the ultimate purifier. You use it to preserve food, and also to season food. You can also use salt to kill slugs. Pigs don't like salt either. So I'm not going to eat pork anymore."


"Beeeecaaauuuse... you're afraid the pig will taste like a slug?"

"It sounded better in my head."

Discussing his earliest memory after I'd told him this warm fuzzy story about how the earliest memory I have is of me sitting at the piano bench with my mother, singing: "I think the earliest thing I remember is of my grandmother yelling at me for eating a whole stick of butter."

At the Rainforest Cafe, a bunch of us were having lunch together. We all ordered and the waitress went away, brought drinks, etc. At some point after the drinks arrived and the waitress disappeared, The KoH became extremely agitated that he'd forgotten to order Ranch dressing to go with his French fries (that's the only way to eat fries if you're my husband). So he starts looking around for the waitress to tell her. She's nowhere to be seen. I remind him that waitresses always forget his Ranch dressing anyway, so he might just as well wait until the food comes and then ask for it. This is not acceptable and he notifies everyone at the table to be on the lookout for the waitress and gives me the task of ordering a side of Ranch dressing if I see the waitress while he's in the bathroom. He comes back... still no waitress. He simply cannot be a part of the conversation while worrying about the Ranch dressing, so finally he gets up and asks some other waitress to find our waitress.

A few moments later, she appears at the table and he says "I forgot to order a side of Ranch dressing with my meal... to go with my fries." She writes it down. Finally the food comes and the waitress put our meals down in front of each of us. When she comes to The KoH, she puts down his meal; he has ordered Jambalaya.... which does not come with fries.

A second later, she comes back with a side of Ranch dressing and sets it down in front of him.

He looks up at her and says, "Can I have some fries to go with my Ranch dressing?"

"We should get a jerkifyer... because I would actually eat raisins if they were called ‘jerky grapes’."

Discussing the finer points of appetizers in restaurants: "I've learned that you never order the sampler version of an appetizer. Usually they have something that you like on there, like Fried Mozzarella and something you maybe would eat but aren't too crazy about like Buffalo wings. But then the other two things on the plate are Deep Fried Cat Turds and Barbecued Pig Farts. So you look at the menu and you say to yourself, 'Gee, I'd really like the Mozzarella sticks and I could go for the Buffalo Wings if I had to but I'm just not really into the Deep Fried Cat Turds and Barbecued Pig Farts.' So you may as well just order two appetizers."

There's a famous scene in When Harry Met Sally, where Sally, while in a restaurant, and piling cold cuts onto the sandwich she's ordered, fakes an orgasm out loud right in front of Harry and the entire restaurant. I've seen this movie a hundred times, but The KoH hadn't. So during that scene, she goes through the long drawn out process of making sounds and talking as though she's having sex, finishes, smiles and then starts to put cold cuts on her sandwich and eat. There's a pause as I look at him; he looks at me... the moment brewing with sexual tension... and then he says,

"I wish
I had some cold cuts."

MEDICAL KNOWLEDGE

When I was in the hospital having a c-section, the doctors let The KoH into the operating room with me. About half way through the operation, it appeared he was feeling woozy and sick so the anesthesiologist started talking to him to distract him. He was looking at the vital monitoring equipment and said, "So that's the pulse ox there... and that's where you see the heart rate right?"

The anesthesiologist, obviously impressed, looked at him and said, "That's right... how.. how did you know that?"

"I watch a lot of ER."

ON HOME ORGANIZATION

Sitting on the couch watching TV about 4:30 pm, he suddenly stands up, drops his pants to the floor and then sits back down in his underwear. I look at him and say, "What the heck are you doing?"

"My keys in my pocket were poking me in the leg."

"Why don't you just take your keys out of your pocket?"

He says, "If I take my keys out of my pocket, I might forget where I put them.... But I won't forget I don't have any pants on."

ON HUMOR

"Some words are just inherently funny. Take 'monkey'. Now that's a funny word. If you tell a joke with the word 'monkey' in it - you've got a funny joke. 'Chicken' is funny too - but not as funny as 'monkey'."

SPORTS

"We have to go to the neighborhood watch meeting tonight. Guess now you won't be able to go show those El Salvadorians (the men he works with) how it's done on the soccer field like I told them you could."

"Honey, I don't play soccer."

"Yes, you do."

"You've been married to me for three years, have you ever seen me play soccer?"

"No."

"Have I ever said I played soccer?"

"No."

"Have you ever heard me talk about having played it?"


"No...," and then exasperated, "But... you lived in Paraguay!"

EXPLAINING THE UNEXPLAINABLE

I came home one day and found a large box containing an electric jigsaw sitting on the couch in plain view with a tiny pillow on top of it. "What's that?" I asked.

"What's what?"

"That jigsaw sitting on the couch."

"Where?"

"Under the pillow."

"Under what pillow.?"

"That pillow right there in plain sight."

He walks over and picks up the pillow. "Oh my gosh, how did THAT get there? It must have been the jigsaw fairy."

SITUATIONAL OBSERVATIONS

After spraying Eucalyptus air freshener in the bathroom, "Smells like a Koala turd in here."

Comes home from work one day and sits next to me on the couch to watch TV for a bit. After about an hour, he casually mentions: "I put my underwear on backward today."

"When did you notice that?"

"Around lunchtime"

"Did you fix it?"

"Not yet."

Three or four hours pass. We go out for dinner, do some yard work, he uses the bathroom several times. Right before bed, he goes into the bathroom and yells from behind the bathroom door: “You know, I'm either gonna have to quit peeing, or I'm gonna have to turn my underwear back around."

Trying to explaining who someone was at church that I didn't know: "You know the Smiths... he sat in back of us in church... the tall skinny guy with the dog."

"He brought a DOG to church?"

"I meant 'wife.'"

We were driving by a strip mall that was being built when The KoH was speculating about what store was going to go in that building. I said I'd heard if was a Kohl's.

"Kohl's can kiss my ass!"

Me: "These cats sure can stink up a litter box. Smelly cats."

Him: "Yep, Kitty Kat and the Funky Bunch."

While driving in the car... "Look at that lady walking in the road with a kid!" He proceeds to get immensely upset because she's walking in the road.

Me: "Why does that bother you so much? She's not in your way, she not walking toward you, she hasn't inconvenienced you in any way..."

"I can't help it, I see people being IGNORANT SAVAGES and it bothers me."

I was complaining one day about the weight I'd gained and KoH very helpfully tried to tell me that he thought it looked like I'd lost weight. I told him the scale didn't hold with his theory. "But honey, your ass isn't as flabby as it used to be."

MATHEMATICS

Attempting to chime in on a conversation between two sisters about the fact that other members of their family think one of them is critical. She claimed that she was not.

"Oh yes you are critical. On a scale of being critical, you're like a ten... point... some... really big number."

THRIFTINESS

After coming home from work one day when he was still out of work, I found about sixteen knives on the table. I asked where they'd come from and he said some kids had come by the house and were selling them.

"But we already have knives", I say.

"I know."

"And we don't really need any more knives."

"I know."

"Were they selling any forks or spoons?" I had to ask.

"No, Just knives."

"Then why did you buy them?"

"They were only twenty-five cents apiece! Hmmmm... come to think of it, maybe those knifes weren't a hundred percent not stolen."

ON MUSIC

While watching the Grammy broadcast where Joshua Bell (one of my favorite violinists) was playing an arrangement of Bernstein/West Side Story tunes. He came to this amazing, incredibly fast passage up in 7th position and my jaw dropped to the floor. The KoH turned to me and said, "Is he good?"

Without missing a beat, I replied lustily, "I want him so bad right now."

"Guess that means yes," he said.

ON ANTHROPOLOGY

"Even in tribal societies the average native only spends 10% of his time gathering food and providing for his family. The rest of the time they're just doing decorative beadwork or something like that."

DISCUSSIONS WITH DEITY

During a prayer: "...and thank you Heavenly Father for the little things in life. Like the cats... and... and... (long pause) other things smaller than that. ... And bless Alice Father, because she's laughing during the prayer and she'll probably go to hell."

Praying: "Please give us the rest we need, Father, so we can be rested and hit it fresh on Monday." I start laughing.

Him: "God knows what I mean."

Me: "I'm sure he does, 'cuz that H.F., He's a real hizipp dude."

ELOQUANCE

Driving through North Carolina, we were going down the road behind a police car when a cat started out into the road, coming fairly close to the police car but not close enough to get hit. "Uh oh... uh oh... uh oh. Uh on... uh oh... uh oh", was all he could get out. Then, "Whew, I thought that kitty was gonna to get it."

"I thought I was sitting next to MC Hammer." I said.

SEEMS TO BE GENETIC

Said by The KnaveofHearts when he was about seven: "Dad, do you remember when that cow got hit by lightning?"

KoH in his sarcastic mode says, "Son, a lot of cows get hit by lightning in Nevada; you're going to have to be more specific."

KoH, Jr. pauses for a second and then says, "It was a brown cow."

ENLIGHTENMENT

While driving down the road in the car: "I think I've just hit upon something important."

"What's that?”

"Well I've just discovered the reason why I'm not gay."

"Well do tell."

"Well, I can look and women and think they're pretty or good looking, or whatever. And I can also look at men and think that they're good looking if they are... like that guy in the car over there. Now that's a good-looking man, don't you think?"

"Yes", I said. "So why are you not gay then?"

"Because I just Don't. Have. The sexual feelings. Toward the men."

Along those same lines...

"My wife is like a guy. She's like my guy friend. Really, it's the best of both worlds... She's like my guy friend that I get to have sex with. Oh wait, maybe that doesn't sound so good."

DEALING WITH THE PUBLIC

Looking for a bathroom in Home Depot: "Do you have a place for me to pee?"

"You're not allowed to publish that book if it makes me look like an idiot", he says one day as I write down another one of his comments.

"It doesn't. You take care of that." I replied.

But he never said anything about a blog.

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Snow Angels

Posted on 1/30/2009 05:34:00 AM In:
"If you pull the wings off a snow angel, you've still got a 9-year-old in a snow suit. But if you pull the legs off a cricket, you've just got a pathetic, crippled cricket."

- My husband

I neither remember the reason for, nor the context of this quote. But he said it - I have witnesses - and now every time my daughter wants to make a snow angel, this is what I think about.


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Married, 40ish mom of two (or three, or four, depending on how you keep score) who stepped through the lookinglass and now finds herself living in curiouser and curiouser lands of Marriage, Motherhood, and the Washington, D.C. Metro Area.

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