I overheard the following conversation between two newly minted fourth grade boys today…

Boy 1: (ok, full disclosure: it’s Sonny)  “Hey!  Have you seen those commercials where that old gramma falls and she can’t get up and she has that thing you push to call for help?”

Boy 2: “Yeah.”

Boy 1:  “Well I’ve seen one where it’s a lady who falls…IN A BATHTUB!”

Boy 2:  “What?  I haven’t seen that one!  What’s she wearing??” 

Boy 1:  “Nothing as far as I could see.  She was just all covered in bubbles.”

Boy 2:  [horrified yet titillated] “But she HAD to be wearing SOMETHING?!”

Boy 1:  “I know, right?  Otherwise the firefighters are gonna be pretty embarrassed when they come to help her.”

Yes, boys.  The FIREFIGHTERS will be embarrassed during the rescue.  No one ELSE will be embarrassed during the rescue because bubbles keep you safe from whatever ails you.

But this just reminds me of why I hate school so much.  First off, I hate that sick feeling in my stomach the entire week leading UP to the start of school.  Trust me when I say I “shared” my sick feeling with everyone else in the house by acting like an a$$ and announcing each day as it arrived: “This is the LAST Tuesday of summer vacation!!  This is the LAST WEDNESDAY of summer vacation!!!” and so forth.  Totally helpful, right??  And I’m not even the one actually GOING to school!

Aside from that, what I REALLY hate about school starting is that Mean Mom comes to roost.  She yells non-stop about all the paperwork that needs to be completed.  All the homework that’s not getting done.  All the lunches that need to be made.  All the people who need to GET UP AND GET MOVIN’!  All the cars that NEED TO LEAVE NOW IN ORDER TO GET TO SCHOOL ON TIME!!!

And once the yelling starts, it seems like it doesn’t stop until NEXT summer.  Because Mean Mom falls completely over the edge of reason.  And when she falls, she can’t get up.

WHERE ARE THE BUBBLES WHEN YOU NEED THEM?!??  WHERE.  ARE.  THE.  %#^&ING!  BUBBLES?!?!

This is how a business meeting goes down in Game of Thrones:

Prince Oberyn of Dorne says to Tyrion Lannister (aka The Imp): Permit me to acquaint you with my noble companions; Ser Doziel Dalt of Lemongrove, Lord Tremblon Gargaphon, Lord Harmon Uhller and his brother Ser Uhllwyck, Ser Rieon Alyryon and his natural son Der Daomon Sand, the Bastard of Guardswood, Lord Dargoos Manthan, his brother Ser Miggles and his sons Myles and Dyken.  I also have with me Ellia Sand my bedmate and scribe.

[hand shaking for those closest, and friendly waving for those stuck in the back.  Note no women are present other than the floozy “scribe” my a$$ who’s betting on her youth and good looks to keep her job…bitter much?]

As the remainder of Tyrion’s own party rides up on the group, it becomes his turn to name the names: Ser Flymint Bracks, heir to Horndale, Lord Gylys of Royne, Ser Addam Marlbrend – Lord Commander of the City Watch, Jalazar Zoh – Prince of the Yellow Cloak, Ser Harrys Swyfton – uncle Kevan’s goodfather by marriage, Ser Marlon Crackenhall, Ser Phyllis Footeton and Ser Bronn of the Blacknight.

[then someone shouts from the back, “there will be a quiz on names later!” and polite chuckling ensues.]

Then they all ride off to get coffee and danishes.  Afterwards they meet for the entire day and accomplish the same stuff they accomplished this time last year.  They have lunch brought in since it’s a “working lunch” then go out for drinks after evening has fallen.  They all get inappropriately drunk and have dumb swordfights which everyone will talk about at NEXT YEAR’S meeting.  As sun breaks over the land the next morn, they break their fast despite feeling inordinately queasy and do it all over again before they catch their horses home.

-End Scene-

Some things never change, do they?

Every weird thing the dog eats comes out oddly intact from his other end.  Where…a LOT of times…it gets stuck.  Half in.  Half out.

The other day it was a piece of twine (which looked like a limp-noodle-secondary-tail hanging down underneath the dog’s bobbed-primary-tail).

While only four inches of the twine was visible to the naked eye, upon further investigation, it turns out the piece of twine was ACTUALLY 9 inches long (a total guesstimate, puh-lease!  I’m not THAT crazy!!).

The whole time the “twine extraction process” was underway, I could practically HEAR the circus music in the background.  I was playing the role of the clown pulling the never-ending silk scarf out of the…er…sleeve.  Duhn duhn duh duh duh duh DUHN duhn duh DUH!

During these instances when the clown is pulling the silk scarf out of the…er…sleeve, the dog always acts like the clown is actually trying to POKE IT BACK IN!  So he rears up (heh, heh, heh – pun intended), bats the clown with his front paws and in general acts like the clown was trying to take his maidenhood by force.  At the END (heh, heh, heh – ANOTHER intended pun – me funny), all embarrassed, the dog skulks away to another room.  Which is fine because the clown is skulking the other way – to dispose of whatever brackish seaweed has been extracted (NOT measure it, ya loons!).

So to get to the BOTTOM (funny) of things – you discover that what is really BEHIND (funny) all of this is that the dog has been a GREAT addition to the family.   ‘Cept for all that clownin’ around.

Yeah.  ‘Cept for that.  Let’s make no ifs, ands, or BUTTS [still funny] about THAT!

The fifty gazillionth “Thanks, but no thanks – we’ve decided to pursue other candidates for our open job position” postcard I just received today causes me to pause and reflect on my career options.  At which point I realize I’m actually really, really lucky.

What?!  LUCKY?!?  (we’re up all NIGHT to get lucky).   Well — I can really only use the word “lucky” when I compare my job opportunities to those of women long ago.  Oh…say…during Game of Thrones time.

There were very limited options for women back then.  Let’s see, there was:

• queen
• whore
• Lady of Winterfell
• miller’s wife
• whore
• chambermaid
• kitchen wench
• whore
• crofter’s daughter
• baker’s wife
• crone
• spearwife (it’s a whole thing I can’t get into now)

Very few of those jobs have any appeal.  Except for Queen (natch!).  Do you think if 1) Game of Thrones was REAL and 2) set in an accessible part of the world, not in middle earth during dragon times and 3) they had invented universities by then and 4) allowed women to attend said universities and 5) invented advanced degrees and 6) then allowed women to GET advanced degrees, that my having an MBA would make me a BETTER candidate for the Queen role?

No.  I didn’t think so either.  But the “thanks, but no thanks” postcards would have been much more interesting: all parchment-y with awesome calligraphy sent by carrier pigeon or some such.

Gaaahhhhhh……

Have I told you I’m reading the Game of Thrones book?  It’s a 4-part, THREE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED FIFTY SIX page nightmare borrowed from the air above my local library and loaded onto my Nook.

Except the problem is that it’s THREE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED FIFTY SIX PAGES and the frickin’ thing keeps expiring before I can finish it.  I was up to page 2,114 last night and when I got the chance to finally sit down at 10 pm to read it, I discovered that the air library is apparently set to Eastern Standard Time and my book vanished yet again into the clouds.  Gaaaahh!!!

So I instantly re-upped for another go-round.  And this time I’m 49 on the waiting list (hey!  I’ve been 78 before, so things are looking up!)

Also on the plus side, I have learned some new words.  (Well, yes, of course swear words as a result of the ill-timed expirations.  But I mean REAL words that the world no-longer-uses-but-which-should-be-brought-back-into-fashion-because-they’re-really-good-words.)  I’ll list the words AND I’ll use them in a sentence so you can get the gist of them in case you’d never heard of them until now:

• hippocras – “Ser Jaime will have the red, Lady Brienne of Tarth will have water, and I will have hippocras,” said Roose Bolton of the Dread Fort with the Flayed Man sigil shining brightly on his tunic.
• slaver – “After King Robb’s direwolf ripped out the throat of an elk, its jaws ran red with slaver.”
• wroth – “The Lord of Harrenhal was sore wroth when he saw the destruction the dragons had wrought on the highest tower of his castle.”
• greaves – “The Knight of Roses, Loras Tyrell, had gauntlets, greaves and greathelm made of hammered gold inlaid with twining roses.”
• doughty – “It is said that Neddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was truly doughty the day on the Trident when he helped Robert Baratheon win his throne from the mad Targaryen king.”
• samite – “Queen Cersei’s robe of green-and-gold samite shimmered in the firelight as did her golden hair where it tumbled down her back.”
• argot – “Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, could actually understand the words of the man speaking High Valyrian even though it was flavored with slaver argot.”

And for the record…NO, I don’t go to the Renaissance Faire.  That’s for dorks.  Reading Game of Thrones is for cool chicks from New Jersey who are trying to figure out how to use up their new stay at home mom days, thank you very much.

Ok…there is something SERIOUSLY wrong at Costco.  How does THIS (see picture on LEFT of teeeeeny tiny list) become THIS (see picture on RIGHT of HUGE $75 receipt)??!

See??  Something is seriously wrong….right??!

In all fairness, perhaps it’s not so much COSTCO as me AT COSTCO.  I’ll tell you how it happens.  Trust me, I’ve thoroughly analyzed this phenomenon and have come up with the following grid to help you understand how it all goes down.  Each and every time.  Down.  Every.  Time.

I call it the Fantasy vs. Reality Phenomenon:

Don’t know when I’ll be back again*.

Ok, that’s a lie.  I DO know when I’ll be back again, Department of Labor.  And it’s well before any potential employer would offer me a job.  In other words: I’m all present and accounted for.  No need to keep looking at me suspiciously.  Move along.

As for the rest of youse – fair warning.  I wanted to let you know I’ll be maintaining radio silence for a few days.  I know, I know!  I’m all frowny-faced about it too!!

Until we meet again, I leave you with a few erudite airport observations (that’s alliteration for ya!):

• Yes!  Stay at home mothers DO get frickin’ vacations so SCREW YOU!  But thanks for asking.
• Why does the airport contain the most children-who-sound-like-monkies?!?  I mean, seriously, they could be arranging a traveler ambush from the tree tops for all we know ’cause there are THAT many of them!
• How do ALL the annoying, slow-moving people spontaneously find eachother at the same time?!? Thus creating vortexes (vortices?) through which you may not pass?
• Here’s a little tip: STAND RIGHT, WALK LEFT ya bleeping’ morons!!!
• The word is ‘deplaning’ NOT ‘deboarding’.  ‘Deboarding’ makes no sense.  Are you confusing it with ‘debarking’?  Which starts to sound weird if you say it too many times.
• Stop the friendly chit-chat.  I don’t like people, which means I don’t like their friendly chit-chat.  So stop already!
• When the doors are closed, the doors are closed.  No amount of blood, sweat or tears will open them again.  I see this as a metaphor for life in general.
• Why do I always get soooo sleepy right before a plane takes off.  Are the airlines secretly gassing us to keep us docile?!?  ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

*Speaking of leaving on jet planes, did anyone else’s kindergarten teacher named Mr. McAllister at Split Rock School in upstate New York tell them that HE wrote that song??  If so were you as disappointed as I was when you found out some schmoe with moon glasses named John Denver actually wrote it??

I was cleaning out the car today…and found a Star Wars Mad Libs book!  Methinks we’ve got a blog THEME going here this week.  Tomorrow perhaps I’ll share with you the little known lyrics to the Star Wars song (hint: most people think the song is only instrumental – except for my husband and son, they know different).

Until then, I will leave you with the following information on…

How to become a Jedi Knight

[The following is so funny you might forget to laugh.  Just like I did.  Oh.  And for the record?  It was completed by 9 and 10 year olds in case you couldn’t tell.]

Want to be a Jedi POOP?  Follow these STINKY steps:

1. Find a Jedi Master: In order to become a POOPY Jedi, a young Padawan, or Jedi apprentice, needs to learn from someone who has FAST mastered his or her training.  Perhaps Master TEDDY [the family dog] is available. 
2. Study the ways of the Force: It takes a lot of SMELLY patience and belief in the TOOTS around you, but a Padawan must understand the Force before he or she can really practice the ways of the Jedi BELLYBUTTON.
3. Make your own light-BUTTCRACK: Find special BUTT CHEEKS to place in your lightsaber’s MOLE.  Then, commune with the Force to make it PEE.
4. Listen SLOWLY: Finally, and most HIGHLY, do as the older and wiser Jedi BOOGERS tell you — even if they want you to COOK QUICKLY!