Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: adulthood, Bathrooms, concerts, entertainment, etiquette, health, manners, parenting, travel
We live in a society governed in part by laws of decency. They separate us from the animals and White Supremacists, and people should follow them to keep human grossness down to a tolerable level.
Which brings me to Port-O-John (POJ) etiquette.
Look, I get it – nobody wants to be in the Abyss of Nastiness, much less touch anything. I can remember having to take my kids in them and shrieking “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” This usually ended with me holding said kid by the armpits over the hole while they tried unsuccessfully to do their business in the most awkward way possible.
The other night I was at an outdoor concert, and bless her heart, somebody (I’ll call her Chicken Little – explanation below) just did not follow what I consider to be good POJ etiquette. After waiting in the ridiculously long line for the few POJs the women were using (the men were using a POJ trough that was infinitely faster), I finally got to the front of the line and opened the door.
Now Girls, I know our Mamas told us not to touch anything and to line the toilet seat with toilet paper so we wouldn’t get some God-awful disease, or worse, pregnant, but you can’t do that shit in a POJ in the dark. First and foremost, nobody can tell if you were merely being cautious (hooray for you – Mama would be proud), or if you’re covering up something nasty. Nobody coming in after you can afford to make any assumptions, especially at a concert where there are copious amounts of drunk Millennials.
When I opened the POJ door, Chicken Little had spread a lot of toilet paper haphazardly about. Maybe she had attempted to line the seat, and thought the seat was three feet around and crawled up the wall, but there was toilet paper on the floor, on the wall and stuck to the door handle. It looked like a bunch of used Civil War bandages had gotten caught in a time machine.
No way in Hell was I going to even attempt to hover near that mess.
When I brought this up to a couple of friends, there was a surprising variety of opinions about female POJ etiquette.
My friend, I’ll call her Laura, admitted to lining the seat, AND putting extra paper down the hole to prevent splash back. That was something I hadn’t even thought of…nor have I ever been in a POJ where the contents were so full as to have that issue. So, I deem shoving TP down the hole for that reason is acceptable. Note to self: don’t travel with Laura.
Another friend asked, “But what if you aren’t physically strong enough to squat?” Well, that’s why they make the Elvis Handles – you know, the places on the door in front of you where you grab on with your hands to help you balance. Note to self: keep working on squats at the gym.
So here are my Rules for Using the POJ:
- NEVER retrieve anything that fell in the hole – seriously, no phone is worth it. Besides, how awesome would it be to call it whenever someone’s in there? Even better, get an old phone and put a funny voicemail message on it.
- Leave your phone/drink/purse outside with a friend. You don’t want to use any of them after being in that Cave of Satan.
- If you forget and bring your beer in there with you, don’t leave the bottle/cup in the urinal. Somebody’s job is to reach in and get it – do your best impression of a man cleaning up dog poo: leave it on the floor and walk away.
- If you must line the seat because you can’t squat or you’re still scared your Mama will find out, it is up to you to put the toilet paper that lined it into the hole when you’re done. Again, that’s somebody’s job.
- Toilet paper is not a sticky note – it has no place on a wall or door handle.
- Feminine products: wrap ‘em up like a bad burrito. Nobody wants to look at that.
- Banging on the POJ while a friend is in there to scare the crap out of them is perfectly acceptable.
- Banging on the POJ when a stranger is in there is still hilarious but you’d better be able to out run them.
- Tipping someone over in a POJ is NEVER okay.
- Check your shoes for toilet paper – or tell someone if it’s stuck to them (unless it’s your friend and you’re laughing to hard.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: amazon, clothing, fashion, jockey, Kohls, lingerie, Macys, Panties, shopping, Target, underwear, Victoria's Secret
Ummm…yeah…that was a question somebody asked me at work.
Lately I’ve had a few cringe-worthy moments, but the worst was a couple of weeks ago in the cube farm as I tried in vain to figure out why the underwear I had ordered from Amazon was apparently in shipping’s no-man’s land.
Wait, you ask… You ordered your underwear from Amazon?
That’s right bitches, I had to order my undies from Amazon because my regular suppliers apparently don’t carry it anymore. And no, I wasn’t trying to buy any Victoria’s Secret lacy, scratchy-but-so-sexy-he-likes-it-so-I-guess -I’ll-get floss. I just wanted to get my fave jockey string bikinis, a.k.a. my Granny Panties, and Target, Kohls and Macy’s failed me. I’m now down to 4 pairs, and each one has bare elastic at the waistband (bad enough that it’s actually irritating my skin). Even Daughter #2 recently threw a pair away while I was at work and sent me this text:
So, I finally gave in and ordered them from Amazon.
At my desk.
At work.
Let me tell you, it’s pretty embarrassing when:
- You’re shopping for underwear at work;
- The underwear you’re shopping for is cotton granny panties; and
- Your co-workers happily stop by to chat and gleefully discover what kind of underwear you wear before you can clear your screen.
But that was just the beginning. After seeing what was on the screen, co-worker Stacie asked, “Do you think maybe they didn’t send it because you’re not an 80-year-old woman?”
After I finally finished trying to justify why I was ordering underwear at work and why I like my comfy cotton Granny Panties instead of something sexier, I placed the order. Of course, it has to be delivered to the office because Holly, the most expensive “free” dog in the world, has now destroyed over $700 worth of merchandise delivered to our house, including two prom dresses (see previous blog).
The package was due to arrive at the end of June. By the middle of July, no underwear in sight.
Between UPS, Amazon and Jockey, no one seemed able to find it. I had to figure out how to stalk Jockey (the seller), which required asking my cube neighbor Lacy for help. Then Hubby walked up (he works in the same office – no judging, please), followed by another co-worker Stacie, all of whom were very interested in the status of my underwear order. So, there we were, all staring at the Amazon page displaying my pink and white Granny Panties as we tried to figure out the best way to find the package and get free stuff from Amazon.
Hubby, God Bless that man, didn’t even bother trying to persuade anyone that I wear other underwear (I do on special occasions).
I finally got my panties in a wad (c’mon, you knew I had to go there) and called Jockey, who of course didn’t have any record of receiving the order from Amazon. So, I called Amazon. All I can say is thank God it was a girl who answered. Humiliation is having to clarify what the order was for to someone who clearly had never worn Granny Panties in her whole 20-year-old life; and then have her exclaim, “Oh, well at least the vendor was Jockey and not some random dude.” Yeah sweetie – that’s where I’d choose to order my underwear from – some “random dude” on the internet.
In the end, I re-ordered, and after 4 weeks, I finally got my undies delivered (right to my desk). Note the appalled look on the screen saver guy.
Helpful Hints in Case This Happens to You:
- Don’t Google women’s underwear and think you’re going to not have creepy stuff come up on your screen
- Don’t get a dog that eats packages
- Don’t Google “missing underwear” – you’ll lose hours of your life reading weird articles
- Don’t click on random blog sites when Googling slang for underwear for your blog
- Don’t order your underwear at work (it’s frowned upon) – your IT guy might have something cheeky to say to you.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: Cats, dogs, holiday, Pets, travel, vacation
Thanks for taking care of the babies and the house! Here’s what you need to know:
The Cats:
We have 3 cats (because we’re stupid), but usually only 2 of them hang out at the house:
Izzy is our 14 yr. old weird orange tabby. She’s very vocal, so don’t be surprised if you find her nagging you to feed, water or be her personal slave in every way. This is usually indicated by a bitchy-sounding meow or by her repeatedly slipping her head under your hand as you try to work on your computer.
Kiwi is the long-haired, gray tabby. She’s the in-house terrorist, taking swipes at you as you walk by and plotting your death. She truly believes that when she stares at you she is stealing a portion of your soul and selling it to the Devil – it might be true. The vet is scared of her – just feed her and back away.
Escobar is the black male. He’s super friendly to people and loves to lay around on his back and show you his junk. He’s also an asshole to Izzy, especially when he’s hungry. Escobar wanders the neighborhood looking for…c’mon, that’s too easy. He occasionally graces us with his presence when none of the neighborhood cats are in heat. He’s our neighborhood’s version of Barney from How I Met Your Mother. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see him at all.
Food and Water: Izzy and Kiwi get one scoop of dry food 2x a day. Escobar gets the same when he shows up, but it’s like going on a date – don’t put out unless you’re ready to use it. The cats get fresh water in their bowl when I remember, but Izzy usually drinks out of Larry the Fish’s bowl anyway, and Escobar never really learned how to drink successfully out of a bowl – I can’t even explain how ridiculous he looks when he tries. Kiwi drinks out of the toilet – don’t ask. I think it was part of her ISIS training.
Meds: Izzy gets a half Zyrtec in the morning. She has allergies, so her lips get really fat like Angelina Jolie and it makes her scratch. That’s also why her stomach is completely bald. There is something so sad (and hilarious) when she sits on the kitchen floor and her bald tummy rests on the tile like Jaba the Hut, or when she compulsively licks, muttering to herself, “So bald, so pretty!”
Cat Litter: I’ll change it before we go. There are two boxes – one in the downstairs bathroom and one in the hallway upstairs. I usually scoop the funk out every couple of days into plastic grocery bags (Reduce! Reuse! Recycle!). If it’s really nasty, feel free to just dump the whole thing into a trash bag and put it in the outside bin. Just don’t be like me and forget to add more litter to the box – that doesn’t end well.
Larry the Fish:
There’s no reason Larry should still be alive, so don’t worry if anything happens (he’s like 5 years old and came in a Ziploc from Field Day of the Past). He gets a small pinch of food every day.
The Dogs:
Disclaimer: You said you wanted to do this!
We have 2 dogs.
Lily is the strange brown hound that is terrified of everyone. We’re pretty sure she was Rufied when she was a puppy, and never had therapy to deal with it. She won’t walk through any door except the one off the deck, and will lurk around the corner looking like she wants to come in until you open the door. Then she’ll disappear faster than America’s middle class. But also like the middle class, she’s perfectly happy to ignore the world around her and snuggle on the couch watching Dancing with the Stars.
Holly is an attention whore and a klepto. She loves people and cars – so much so that she will jump into moving cars through the open window. Then she’ll take your stuff as she exits the car, and all you’ll find are chewed up bits all over the yard. She also eats packages delivered to the house, so please sure they are picked up immediately. So far, our running total of delivery destruction is around $700 – that includes two prom dresses we ordered for sizing purposes only. If you know anyone who might want them, they’re hanging in the laundry room. I’m told the kids are now wearing clothes with holes in them.
They can go outside during the day. There is an electric fence (it was so cute that we thought that would keep them in). Our neighbors have taken pity on us and when the dogs escape, frequently leave our wayward girls in the driveway like a bad one night stand.
The Pool:
Enjoy! If you can clean out the skimmer basket every couple of days that would be great – usually there’s just frogs, spiders and beetles in there. Sometimes there’s a snake or two, but not to worry, they’re more scared of you then you are of them. Ha! That’s such bullshit! I’m hate them and call Hubby to come get them out. You’re on your own there. I dump the skimmer critters out in the grass over the fence. The dogs LOVE that.
Oh yeah – I threw in enough chlorine in there to give your face a chemical peel. Enjoy your week of being wrinkle-free.
Other:
Plants: Good luck. They’ve sucked all summer.
TV: We have Xfinity for cable purposes. Turn the TV on using the large remotes (either one will do). Ignore the other remotes sitting around – I’m pretty sure they’re just dog toys at this point and that they don’t work any of the electronics in the house anymore, but SOME PEOPLE won’t throw anything away. All other TV questions – ask Hubby. I have no idea how any of that shit works.
Internet: We live in the country. It’s often slow or doesn’t work at all. Read a book.
So there you have it – feel free to call us if you have any questions and have a great week!
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: art, entertainment, game of thrones, history, history channel, hobbies, lagertha, movies, ragnar, television, travis fimmel, tv, vampires, vikings
Let’s talk Vikings. More importantly, let’s talk about why they are sexy and appealing, and why I can’t stop binge watching shows like the History Channel’s Vikings and BBC America’s The Last Kingdom.
It’s not because I have a thing for burly, unwashed guys with long hair. In real life I tend to go for the clean-cut, naturally athletic type (you’re welcome, Hubby.) In fact, that probably explains why I also binged on Vampire Diaries – they were all athletic and clean-cut, even if they did have a habit of drinking other people’s blood. But there is something viscerally appealing about the characters in these blood-thirsty shows, despite the fact that they regularly do horrific things to people and display the darker sides of humanity. Hardly an episode goes by that some form of lopping or evisceration doesn’t happen, or when greed, naked ambition and revenge aren’t acted upon.
So what exactly is the appeal?
Well, first, let’s get the obvious out of the way:
But what else?
When you watch a show like Vikings, you live vicariously through those characters as they do things that are unacceptable in today’s society like taking what isn’t yours just because you can, killing those who clearly deserve it, and having sex with royalty or a slave. And let’s face it – we’re a bit jealous, so we keep watching. In real life, when another driver on the road does something exceptionally stupid, I want them to reap what they’ve sewn. Since it’s not acceptable for me to help them with that by nudging them Fast and Furiously into the guardrail until they flip over 17 times (and of course come out unscathed – I’m not an animal, people!), I watch shows like Vikings where the characters can actually act on their baser desires. At least in their case somebody’s getting something done – there is retribution.
Plus there’s this:
Does that mean that everyone who watches the weekly torture fest on Game of Thrones secretly wants to torture people? Probably not, but there are plenty of messed up people out there who should only be allowed to watch episodes of Sesame Street and work on their people skills. But Game of Throne’s emphasis on torture and the show’s popularity does make you wonder. Maybe lots of people have a need to feel empowered – if you can’t get it in your own life, watching someone else act on it in the extreme satisfies that need. Or, maybe they just like seeing people in pain. Whatever – the point is, these shows feed some baser need in their viewers.
Should we change our rules to accommodate these baser needs? Absolutely not. Should we dress in animal heavy wool, grow out our hair and still have unrealistically good teeth – maybe, if you can look like this:
But wool’s scratchy and hot, my hair never looks like that and my teeth are marginally better than a 800 A.D. Viking’s teeth; instead, I’ll keep watching these shows, keeping my baser instincts at bay…at least until the next NFL season starts.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: brain, brains, business, condoms, health, marketing, mindful thinking, news, politics, pregnancy, relationships, Science, sex, technology
There is a product not currently available on the market today that I think needs to be developed and implemented: Brain Condoms, or if you want to go all Seinfeld, “Brubbers.”
Brubbers, or brain condoms protect the general public from three things:
- Unwanted Brain Pregnancy. Unwanted brain pregnancy occurs when the person exposed to another person’s un-condomed brain gets impregnated with unwanted thoughts. Biologically, this happens when unprotected brain receptors are inundated by negative phrases (“It’s so brave of you to wear that dress with your body type”), lies (“I did not inhale”) or generally ignorant statements (“Obama is the founder of ISIS”).
- Pre-mature Ejaculation. This occurs when someone speaks before they think things through – which often leads to #1.
- STDs (Stupid Thought Disorders): These are nasty thoughts spoken out loud that can cause pain, an irresistible urge to repeat the same thought over and over again (like scratching an itch), or even make you go crazy. In severe cases, frequent exposure to STDs can cause permanent damage, even sterility (the lack of any individual thought whatsoever).
Of course, Brubbers can come in all colors and sizes, because yes, we all know your brain is a magnum, the gold circle coin of gray matter.
But using Brubbers isn’t foolproof, any more than using an actual Happy Hat is. Brubbers can break, or if not used correctly, they can come off entirely, and no one wants to go fishing for a broken Brubber in that cesspool of thinking surrounding us these days. Just imagine the filth you’d be wading in: Alternative Facts, random and useless trivia, Honey Boo Boo, Kardashian Tweets, Ryan Lochte, AKA Twitter rants, etc.
And folks, the pull-out method doesn’t work here, either. Simply trying to avoid these three issues by avoiding people or walking away from a stupid conversation is not enough. You must protect yourself, your family, and your loved ones. But there is hope! Used along with Brubbers, STDs and unwanted thoughts can be even more effectively avoided by using Brainicides. Brainicides come in different forms and help destroy the negative thoughts, deflect lies and other ignorant statements. Some examples of useful Brainicides:
- Education
- Strong friendships grounded in love, positivity and loyalty
- Strong, positive family relationships
- Exercise
- Limited exposure to social media
So take precautions, people. Any day now you should be seeing Brubbers in school bathrooms (no matter what sex you are), during interviews after any natural disaster that happens in the South, and especially at political conventions and press conferences. Use one – protect yourself.
Subourbon Mom 