Flaws and Virtues

I have many flaws.  One of them, unfortunately, is a very jacked-up sinus cavity.  I've seen x-rays of it, and it's not pretty.  My right side in particular is very malformed...I actually don't even have an upper cavity on that side.  I've had surgery once, in 2005 and while it helped with the constant sinus infections, it made my snoring even worse.  Jeff swears the doctor left something flapping up in there.

Consequently, I snore like a wounded water buffalo.  And that's being kind.  I've been played recordings of my snoring and it is impressive.  Once, I fell asleep on my front porch and a neighbor, going outside to smoke around midnight, walked down the street from 3 houses down because he was sure he heard someone using a power drill to break into the bolt locks on our house.  True story.

 

Fortunately, I have many off-setting virtues.  One of them is the ability to pick a patient and loving man to marry.  He's been living with my wounded buffalo/power drill snore for more than 24 years now...and still somehow wants to share a bed with me every night.  His only concession to the sounds that could probably bend metal?  To wear ear plugs.  He buys them in bulk:

 

(This box sits on our chest of drawers. It's the second such box he's had to buy. He gets them from Grainger online)

 

There is nothing our newest cat, Daisy, loves more than these ear plugs.  She fishes them out of the bathroom trashcan all of the time:

(Daisy with a purloined earplug.  Also, part of my thumb...another flaw of mine...I am totally retarded at picture-taking.)

(She has taken this one down to the kitchen)

 

We find them everywhere...in the bed with us, in the living room, under each and every piece of furniture...Jeff's even found them deposited in his shoe.

 

The other day at work, I went digging for something in my purse (mascara, I think) and saw this:

 

 

Apparently, I had left my purse open on the table the night before and Daisy had herself a little nocturnal game of ear-plug ball.  My purse was the goal.

 

There were SIX total earplugs in my purse...in varying stages of chewed-upon.  I don't know if she ran out of ear plugs that she had hidden around the house or if six was just the right number of earplugs she felt my purse needed.

 

Maybe six is the number of goals you need to win at ear-plug ball.

Question for today.

I hate to show my ignorance...but can someone please explain Google's homepage today to me?
It's a...dead octopus? In heaven? That is confused about Mexico and Brazil?  I know it's got something to do with the World Cup (I'm not completely under a rock)  but the octopus (with only three legs, apparently) in the clouds with a halo?  I'm missing whatever message is trying to be sent.

Odds and Ends

The last month or so has been a hectic mess.  That final run-up to the kiddo's graduation was just nuts, and I haven't had the time to devote to my blog like I like to.  That doesn't mean that weird stuff stopped happening around me...just that I haven't had the time to really sit down and write about it.

I have, however, had some things crop up that I'd snap a picture of thinking, "I'll get back to that some time."  Going through my camera roll on my phone today, I decided to just upload all of these little odds-and-ends-reminder pictures.

Here's the first two:

I don't know what the hell posses my cats sometimes.  We have lived in our current house almost 10 years.  Both of these cats pictured above have lived here the entire 10 years.  Suddenly, out of the blue, they decided to invade the cabinet of bags.  We use the plastic bags that you get at Walmart or Target or Winn Dixie as mini trash bags.  Because our cats are heathen beasts, they won't stay out of a normal trash can.  We hang a plastic bag on a chair or drawer knob where it cannot easily be defiled and take it out very, very frequently.  I realize that I have waaaaay too many of these bags stuff under the cabinet, but I promise you they eventually get used.

Anyway, back to the cats....for about a week, we'd come home to find the cabinet open and one or both of them (not the other three cats) in there.  Then it just stopped.

Next:

I saw this as I was going into a resturant in town.  My first thought? "Wow.  Are the Duggars in town?"  Then I noticed the license plate was local...you'd think I'd have heard about a family of 15 (counting parents) in a town the size I live in...but maybe not.

My final thought on this picture "Can you GET 13 children into a Kia Sorento?" "Is that legal?" "Could the suspension even take it?"

This picture was actually taken on my last girls' trip to the beach:

Now, don't get me wrong...Rooster Cogburn is one of my all-time favorites...but putting a likeness (and signature!) of the Duke on your vehicle?  Why?  Who loves John Wayne that much?

Then there's this:

At first, all you notice is the loud shirt (which I actually kinda dig).  But then, then you see it:

My friend Annette and I have long been avid mullet watchers...and we try to document the increasingly rare mullet sightings.
This is the saddest little mullet I have ever seen. This poor fellow had all of nine hairs to braid together and form the mullet breed known as "the rat tail."  Props for the little curl on the end, though.

Back to my weird housecats:



What is it about cats and pineapples?  I am not the first person who has noticed the cat/pineapple phenomenon.  My question was going to be "Why do cats like pineapples?" but that question leaves some of the nuance out of the situation.  Closer would be "Why are cats so affectionate to pineapples?" but that sounds sort of dirty.  It's not like the cats are molesting the pineapple or anything gross.  They just go to whereever I leave a pineapple (on the table, on a counter, on the bakers rack) and sit beside it and smell it.  Occassionally they will rub their face on it...I just don't get it.

Moving on...

The other day, I went into a gas station restroom and saw this:

I have no idea what the story is here.  Probably, I don't want to know.

Finally, last set.  I think only in a Winn Dixie parking lot will you see:

Wait, look closer:

So, here's another use for Winn Dixie bags besides trash bags or cat bedding.

My memaw would do this sometimes if she got caught out and she'd just had her hair "done" for the week and had somehow forgotten the little plastic rain bonnet that she USUALLY had in her purse.  And frankly, you're gonna need your coiffe lookin' good if you are going to somehow pull off the denium pleated-jumper look.

So, whew!  Now I feel kind of caught up.



Bad to the bone

The hubby has been job hunting since his project is winding down & I've been doing the occassional search to help him out.  Today I found this:

And I am left with some definite questions.

1. If you HAVE 2-3 years of Deboning Supervising experience, don't you already work there?  Because how else would you have this experience?

2. Why is it a "plus" to be bilingual?

3. Is there some high demand for Deboning Supervision that I have been unaware of until now? I mean look...the pay is around $45k/year with just a high school diploma AND there's a $250 referral bonus AND a relocation package AND a bonus program.  They sound absolutely desperate to have their poultry deboning supervised.

4. What does it take to supervise a deboning?  How do you know if you're doing it right?

5. I wonder what you smell like at the end of the day?

Of course, this job is no good for my husband.  He's got a real issue with chicken.  The only chicken he will eat (and then, he's not always happy about it) is boneless, skinless chicken.  And he can't see it or touch it or smell it raw.  If he accidentally wanders into the kitchen while I'm cutting up raw chicken...he just heads to the freezer for a Totino's pizza.  He can't eat it if he sees it being handled raw.

So, basically, this Chicken de-boner Supervisor position is the one they'd give him in Hell.  Even if the pay is good.and they're offering medical and dental.

Can't you smell that smell?

Hey everybody!  It's been a couple of weeks, I know.  We have been SWAMPED with kiddo activities...graduation parties, prom, more graduation stuff, etc.  That doesn't mean that I've stopped having bizarre things happen around me or interesting things to write about.  I just haven't had time to sit down and post anything.

I have tried to make myself little notes, or snap a picture of something that I mean to come back to and write a post about.

This is one of those things:

This was located in a truck stop/convienence store right on the Georgia/Alabama line.

In case you're having trouble reading because of my fuzzy-picture taking...this is a device mounted on the wall of a bathroom. For a quarter it will spray you with "cologne".

Your choices are:

Our exquisite replica of White Diamonds

Our exquisite replica of Liz Claiborne

Our exquisite replica of Pleasure

Our exquisite replica of Eternity

Our exquisite replica of Happy

Supposedly, this will make you "Feel Fantastic" and "Feel Refreshed"

Unless you forget to put your Marlboro out in the sink...because this shit IS highly flammable.

I have so many questions, I don't know where to start...

Who MAKES this contraption?

WHY?

Who USES this? (Obviously, someone did...they were so refreshed and fantastic that they pulled the plunger thingy practically out...it was kind of just dangling there)

What do these "colognes" smell like, for real? (Wanted to try it out SO BAD...did not want to ride from the state line all the way home in an enclosed vehicle if I got some of it on me...which I would have because, hello? it's me we're talking about.  Also?  Jeff may have not let me back in the van depending on how "exquisite" I smelled.)

Is that padlock really necessary? Really?

Update: cannon

When I am wrong, I will admit that I am wrong.  In this case, I still can't BELIEVE I was wrong...but I was.  My daughter can apparently sell ice to an Inuit...because despite my dire predictions I made here, she did, indeed receive permission to include a gun-powder-using projectile device in her physics project.

Here are some views of said project:



You do not see the cannon in any of these pictures...because I absolutely forbade its use in my livingroom. 

Here's the contraption in action:

And nobody shot their eye out.

Hold my beer...

Coming home from the beach this past Sunday, we were traveling along at a nice little clip..."B" was driving, Annette had called shotgun...Jenn and I are in the backseat.  We had just spent 3 of the most glorious days imaginable on the sugar sands of the Redneck Riveria (also known as Panama City Beach).   We were cruisin' along at about 55-60 mph up Hwy 231...when up ahead we see:

Me (from the backseat):  Hey, guys? Is that....???? NO!

Annette (looking up from her magazine): Oh. My. God!  Get closer, B!!  Get closer!!

Jenn: You have GOT to be kidding me!  This is like a safety message happening right in front of us!  Come on, B!  Get closer!

And so she did:

 

No, you're not wrong...it's exactly what it looks like:

We followed them for a good 5 miles (at 55-60 mph) before they finally slowed down and turned off.

"Bubba" (I assume) slid a titch...got a better footing...steadied himself and stuck his right arm straight out to signal their turn.

I'd bet real money that this escapade started out with a converstation very close to this:

Bubba's buddy: Hey, I gotta get little TammySue's moved over there to her mommanthem's this afternoon.  I borrowed Jethro's trailer, but ain't got nothin to tie 'er down with.

Bubba: Hold my beer.  I got this.