Once upon a time, when I used to cook dinner every single night, I had a fridge full of leftovers. Steaks. Sheppards pie. Potato bake. I didn’t want to food to go to waste, so one night I proclaimed “Tonight, we’re having scraps for dinner!”
“SCRAPS?!” Pighunter said, in a tone that could only be described as “horrified.”
“Yes, Scraps. We have a ton of food left over from this week and I thought I’d just heat it all up and eat it before it goes bad.”
“Oh, leftovers!” He said, somewhat relieved. “Not SCRAPS! We’re not dogs! We’re humans! IT’S LEFTOVERS!”
In my mind, scraps is totally different than leftovers in this way. Let’s say I make meatloaf and mashed potatoes on Wednesday night. Thursday night, I decide to reheat that. THAT would be leftovers. Now let’s say that on Monday night I made enchiladas with rice. Then, on Tuesday night, I made a steak with a broccoli salad. Then, on Wednesday night, I decided to put the enchiladas, rice, steak and broccoli salad that was left out and let every one choose whatever they want to eat. THAT would be scraps. Because, get it, it’s scraps from various different meals as opposed to a specific, reheated meal from the night before.
Did I really just try to explain the difference between “scraps” and “leftovers?” Yes. I did.
Anyway…
Think of this post as the blog equivalent of “scraps.” A little bit of this and a little bit of that, but totally not leftovers.
Category Archives: random
On Notice:
My Doctor
People Who Do Not Give “The Courtesy Wave.”
My Thyroid
The checker at Vons who interrogates me about every coupon.
Commenters who do not use real email addresses.
Flickr.
My brain.
Scott Baio
The All Wimmins Gym.
This Week.
Friday Night.
It’s been “One of Those Weeks.”
Staph infections, ear infections, water in the keyboard, mud in the carpet, flood in the garage and so on and so forth.
I’ve been looking forward to Friday night, so that I could pour me a glass of that minty stuff and try to put this week behind me.
The new bumps forming on my son arms lead me to believe our troubles aren’t over yet, but I plan on enjoying my adult beverage and forgetting my cares if only for a couple of hours.
mmmm, devil water.
Urgent Care Doctor: 0 Mommyblogger: 1
Me: Hi. I think my son might have the chicken pox. Help?
Urgent Care Doctor: Doesn’t look like chicken pox, but it could be! but probably not! but there’s nothing we can do anyway! so just give him benadryl and calamine lotion.
Shorty Mom (in my comments): I took my son in for a visit when he got up one morning complaining about a headache and dizziness. He had a spot on his hip the night before that I thought was another bout of ringworm we suffered with through the summer. That afternoon he had more red spots and I cringed at the thought of chicken pox. His doctor said to keep him away from pregnant women but she thought it was a staff infection and not the chicken pox. Staff infection was right when the antibiotic she prescribed started clearing them up within a couple of days. The longer they go untreated, the more they look like a big pimple. Hope you get it figured out!
Me: (googles staph infection) OH SHIT. I think it’s a staph infection. (calls my doctor. My doctor says bring him on my lunch hour.)
Diagnoisis? Staph infection (waiting for the culture to come back to find out more… but starting on antibiotics now.)
The thing that pisses me off the most is that they could have started treating it that night had either one of the doctors listened to me when I pointed out the large bumps on his arms. “It started with THESE TWO BUMPS RIGHT HERE.”
Didn’t even phase them. I pointed them out at least 5 times and they just went “hmm” every time. Had I not written about it on my blog, I probably would have just kept waiting to see if they got better on their own because they specifically told me THERE’S NOTHING WE CAN DO. IT WILL CLEAR UP ON IT’S OWN.
I love you, oh readers of my blog. I really, really do. And because I love you, I am going to try really hard to stop writing about my family’s medical problems because, enough already, yes?
Tap Tap My Tagline! (Or “The One in Which I learn That One Should Always Consult the Urban Dictionary Before Hitting Publish.)
I was surfing the myspace accounts of my son’s friends last night.
Most of the accounts are marked as “private” so I couldn’t view them, but a few of the kids have changed their age to 19 so that their accounts are not locked as private.
Thank God for that, because had they not lied about their age, I never would have found The Greatest Blog Post by a Teenage Boy EVER.
Although I am tempted to copy and paste the entire entry here on my blog, I won’t because, as my son would say “that’s messed up”. But I am going to share with you the funniest thing that I have read on the internet in a very long time.
In this post (which was about a “gurll” who “was lying because she just wanted 2 b seen and get attention from ppl”) he said the following…
“ur toothfaced! Don’t ever talk to me again kk?”
When I first read it, I was all “What is this ‘toothfaced’ the youth are talking about?”
And then it hit me that he really didn’t mean toothfaced. He meant two- faced. He just didn’t KNOW that he meant two-faced, because he thinks it’s toothfaced and this makes me laugh so hard that it physically hurts.
I don’t know why I found it so funny, except that maybe it reminds me of the time that I got spanked for shouting what I thought was “Geezus!” in anger (You know, kind of like “gee whiz!”) but my parents thought I was saying “JESUS!” (You know, as in “JESUS CHRIST!”) And I really was saying “JESUS!” I just didn’t know it because whenever I heard people saying “JESUS!” I honestly thought they were saying “GEEZUS!”
Anyway. You can be sure I’m using that word (TOOTHFACED!!!!) every chance I get.
I think that it will make Geezus very happy.
Bonus Toothfaced
What does YOUR dvd collection say about YOU?
How sad (or funny?) is it that the first thing I thought when I saw this collection of dvd’s in one of the boxes in the garage today that the FIRST THING I thought was this…
“Losers cry/buy workout dvd’s that they’re never going to use. $19.99 x 8= like $160.00 x however many other dvds you bought in hopes of losing that lard ass= a pretty sweet down payment on a house.”
You know what that means right?
That I AM A WINNER.
I did the math.
No need to worry! We’re not on fire! (Yet…)
The fires are all around us, but not close enough to cause any concern. The only concern is the air quality. It’s smoky and ashy. That worries me because of my daughters history of asthma attacks. She’s already displaying some early symptoms that an attack may be looming around the corner, but I’m not going to stress about something that may not happen.
I’ve been watching the NON STOP coverage on the news and my heart breaks people who have been affected by these horrific fires. I worry about the firefighters risking their lives to save the lives (and property) of others. I worry about the animals, the elderly, the people who have no one to turn to for help. It’s a horrible situation and I feel incredibly grateful that my family is safe.
OH! HELL! NO!
Someone who reads this blog sent me an email this morning with a link to this site. She was freaked out because at the bottom of the page there was a picture of MY CHILDREN used in a “testimonial.”
I emailed “Ashley” and asked her to remove my photo immediately.
No response as of yet.
There is also a picture of an ultrasound with the words “girl parts” written in Paint. that I KNOW I saw on a blog recently but I can’t remember which one.
Anyone have any advice how to go about this if she does not respond to my email?
I would greatly appreciate it.
**edited to add**
She responded to the email and took the picture down.
Now, I hope it’s only a matter of time before the whole thing disappears…
The Birthday Gift That Keeps on Throbbing (and not in the good way, either.)
I’ve been trying to think of something to write for my obligatory “Birthday Post”. I wanted it to be funny, thought provoking, sad, and uplifting all at once.
I wanted it to be meaningful, something I’d look back on a year from now and feel The Joy deep down in my heart when I read it. I wanted people to link to it and talk about it on their blogs because OH MY GOD, I WISH I HAD WRITTEN THAT POST.
I’ve started and deleted at least 5 posts because I can not seem to get past the fact that last night, I sent my husband to Target to buy me something that I was told will clear up the problem that I have recently developed that is kind of ruining my life at the moment.
Medicated Selsun blue
my sister told me
you will help clear the bacne.
Oh, late 30’s and your fucked up hormones, HOW I HATE YOU.
I guess this is as good as it’s going to get because at the moment, I can’t think of anything positive to say about turning 36 because I have zits on my back.
Don’t Blaugh.
I can not think of anything more annoying than when you’re taking a shower and the timer for the sprinklers go off just as you lather up and the water pressure goes from hot and hard to freezing cold and limp.
Oh! Wait! Yes I can!
When people try to come up with cute little sayings with the word (or part of the word) “blog” in it!
“I’m blogstipated!”
“Blogo’riffic!”
“Blogtastic!”
Am I the only one who finds this blonnoying? I swear, I’m not trying to be blogstrovsial, or a blitch, those cute little word manipulations do not normally bother me, but lately, I’ve been seeing them every where and I swear, if I read one more post containing a blog-word, I may consider bloverdosing to commit blogiside.
It felt good to let that out, I just hope I didn’t bloffend anyone.
Bloving on…
I haven’t thought about The Dent much, but I’m pretty sure that’s because PigHunter took the van for the weekend to go camping. For “The Record” I was dead set against it, because he used to take the Ass-tro van and that thing would come back smelling like a burnt wood and fish juice.
And I don’t like my car to smell like fiery fish juice.
I just got the cigarette smell out of the car and I just know I’m going to spend the next few weeks trying to get the smell of “camping” out (also compulsively and obsessively looking at The Dent.) and do you know why I don’t to go camping?
I’ll tell you why—because I hate the smell of burnt wood.
I know there are people who love the smell of a fire burning. My Grandparents were some of Those People.
They used to have a little house in the mountains and I’d stay there almost every weekend, because I loved staying with my grandparents. However, I hated staying there in the winter, because they constantly had a fire burning in the fireplace. The smell from a wood burning fire makes me sick. It makes me so sick that I get angry inside. No, seriously, I feel rage as I’m thinking about it because I’d be trapped in that house with that smell.
And that smell would penetrate my skin and my clothing and my hair and it didn’t matter how many showers I took, I’d still walk out of that house smelling like a fireplace. (And when I was 16, it was VERY IMPORTANT to me that my hair smelled like Heavenly Flowers and NOT like Burnt Ashes.)
I suppose I’m in the minority with my hatred of Fires. Most people I know love to get a fire going and enjoy the warmth from the fire while sipping on a cup of hot cocoa. Me? I’d rather bundle up under some blankets, crank up the heater and read a good book while still managing to smell like Heaven.
Or should I say Bleaven
Har.