Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Bathrooms, children, human resources, humor, kids, office etiquette, office humor, preschool, subourbonmom, toilet paper, toilets, work
Working at my Big Girl’s job has brought to my attention the fact that preschool bathroom rules are not the same as Grown-Up Office Bathroom rules. While we recently moved offices and now have private bathrooms, our previously public bathrooms illuminated several differences (and some creepy similarities):
- In a Grown-Up Office Bathroom, you don’t need to worry about someone who is 3-feet-high squatting down, looking under the stall door and talking to you about her Hello Kitty Halloween costume.
- Grown-Up Office Bathrooms do not have step stools tucked under the sinks so you can reach the soap.
- It’s not cool in Grown-Up Office Bathrooms to chat with your co-workers while you pee; in preschool bathrooms, this is usually the ONLY time you can chat with your co-workers about what’s going on.
- Grown-Up Office Bathrooms do not have signs reminding you to sing the Happy Birthday Song the entire time you wash your hands—weirdly (and often incorrectly), it’s assumed people will wash their hands without reminders.
- In Grown-Up Office Bathrooms, it is assumed that everyone knows what the little wastebaskets on the side of womens’ stalls are for. In preschool bathrooms, many things can be found in these baskets: Legos, Tinker Toys, Barbie heads, and pretend cell phones, to name a few)…
- In Grown-Up Office Bathrooms, no one will ask you to help them wipe—if they do, it’s definitely time to get to know your HR Department.
- In Grown-Up Office Bathrooms it’s also not cool to take the stall immediately next door to the person who’s already in there—apparently not everyone is comfortable with the knowledge that the person next to them is probably evaluating how badly they had to go. (You can’t un-think it, can you? You’re always going to wonder now if that’s what they’re thinking as you let it go.) In preschool bathrooms, you rarely get to leave the room, so when you pee like you’re a miniature Niagra Falls, everybody knows why.
- Which leads me to similarities: all public bathrooms have the thinnest toilet paper on the planet, that breaks off square by square. After several frustrating tugs, you’re left holding what looks like handful of lottery tickets with the consistency of peeled skin, instead of a satisfying and reassuring wad of toilet paper.
- Sometimes, your body is kind enough to forewarn you that things are about to get pretty nasty. Most workplaces, whether it’s for adults or children, have at least one bathroom that is far enough away from the others that you can go (run) to when that unfortunate day happens; however, re-entering the world often involves a walk-of-shame, especially if the hidden bathroom had someone else waiting to use it.
- All women’s public bathrooms, no matter what the median age of the users, seem to have at least one toilet that all of the women use who can’t aim when they squat.
Whether you’re five or fifty-five, bathroom rules are simple:
Clean up your own mess (that includes the seat);
Give others their space; and
Provide and/or properly use the right tools for the job.
If we all do this, no one will have to put up signs like these:
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, Beauty, chest hair, hair removal, haircuts, health, humor, manscaping, mens health, razors, sex, subourbonmom, tweezers, wax
The other day a group of us were discussing a fashion trend that some of us find…interesting: Manscaping. I don’t just mean a little mowing the yard after a shower–I’m talking serious, no-hair-anywhere Manscaping that leaves most actors in the 35-and-under category weirdly hairless—like pre-pubescent boys.
Now, I’m all for not seeing Sasquatch peeking out from under the collar, just as I imagine no one wants to see a fig leaf bikini on the beach with palm fronds growing out of it. But one guy in the conversation (which was started and dominated by women, so kudos to the guys there for holding their own) finally asked, “So if a man is hirsute and he’s trying to do this, exactly where does the carpet stop and the tile begin?”
Excellent question. I went to that trustworthy source, Google, since asking my friends was doing nothing but causing hysterical laughter as we talked about waxing and trimming horror stories and mistakes.
There a lot of how-to sites, most concerning the techniques of using razors and wax and laser removal. But here are a few tips from Esquire magazine (and a couple of other sites) that I agree with:
- For the chest that does not see a lot of gym time, a layer of hair can be a blessing. But if you do choose to show it off, make sure your chest hair is in proportion to your arm and leg hair. You can trim them all, but the key word here is TRIM. The character Schmidt on the television show New Girl is the perfect example of things not matching up. The guy has a crazy-thick head of hair and 5-o’clock shadow, but no hair anywhere else that network television will show. For the chest, waxing or using clippers is recommended to reduce ingrown hairs and shave-rash.
“Schmidt”
- Back hair—it’s gotta go; and the neck too. No matter how much you rock your partner’s world, no one needs that extra something there to hold onto. As for the neck, any decent hair stylist should be taking care of it anyway.
- The buttocks—back to the carpet/tile question: “No one wants hair shorts,” says Esquire. Maybe trimming is the compromise?
- Nose and ear hair—really? Is that still even a question? And no, there isn’t an age limit on when that should stop being an issue. I view nose, neck and ear hair as the weed whacker areas. Get the proper tools and it’ll go quickly, while making everything else look better.
- The undercarriage: Word on the street is that trimming up the undercarriage can make the muffler look bigger; however, you can’t run around in your tighty-whities anymore afterward. Hair on any part of the body acts as a moisture wicking device, as well as a friction reducer. Tight underwear can cause rashes, itching and chafing.
- Trimming your chest/body hair into cute shapes is a no-no (see below).
- The Boyzilian—I’m not touching that with a 10-foot pole (that’s probably trimmed to look like 12). A man getting that done–that’s an image I DO NOT want in my head. If it’s something you want to try—good luck to you. Your partner should spring for the Advil and the bag of frozen peas.
Now that summer is over, waxing season has begun. Start now, and it will be less painful and less frequent by next summer. Christmas is coming up (according to most stores you’d think its next week. It’s only October, people! Can’t we get through Halloween first?), so that might be a good time to ask for that trimmer. Whatever you choose to do, you might want to make sure it’s not permanent. Just look at all those women out there with eyebrows like a pencil line; that style’s out now, and thicker brows are in. They don’t make chest hair pencils—yet—just sayin’.
(And after looking for all of these pictures, there are now about a dozen images I can’t ever un-see…you’re welcome.)
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, humor, Internal Revenue Service, IRS, marketing, news, phones, scams, south, southern, subourbonmom, telemarketers
Hi there, y’all—my apologies for the recent hiatus, but we had a death in the family, and it has been a grueling time for all of us. Now that things are settling down a bit, I can come up for air and share with y’all some of the other craziness that’s been going on outside of all of that.
The other day, my friend Gail received a phone call from a number she didn’t recognize. Against her better judgment, she answered it. A heavily-accented, female voice said, “Hello, my name is Julie Smith and I am from the Internal Revenue Service.”
Gail: “No you’re not. Take me off your call list and don’t call me again,” and hung up.
Ten minutes later the phone rang again. Annoyed, Gail answered, ready to put a stop to it.
Caller: “Hello, this is Julie Smith from the Internal Revenue Service.”
Gail: “No it’s not. Do you know that calling with a scam is illegal in the United States? Now take me off your call list. ” She hung up again.
Another ten minutes goes by and the same number calls her again. Gail picks up the phone.
Caller (male this time): “Hello, this is (something unintelligible) from the Internal Revenue Service.”
Gail: “No, you’re not! Do you know that making scam calls is a terrorist activity? And that terrorist activity in the United States is punishable by death?”
Caller: “No, this is not a scam. This is the Internal—“
Gail: “No, you’re not!” She hung up.
Gail waited about twenty minutes, then called the number back. A new voice answered. “You have reached the Internal Revenue Service—“
Gail (in a very stern voice): “This is Homeland Security. Identify yourself.”
Caller: “I-I-uh-…this is not a scam!”
Gail: “This is Homeland Security. Identify yourself.”
Caller: “This not a scam! It’s not a scam!”
Gail: “This is Homeland Security. We have identified your location. I suggest you identify yourself.”
Caller: “I’m so sorry! It is a scam! It is a scam!…I LOVE YOU!”
The caller hung up.
I wonder if that would work for the political calls we will be getting from now until November…
20 more ways to get rid of a telemarketer….
http://www.blippitt.com/20-lol-ways-to-get-rid-of-telemarketers/
Filed under: Parenting, Posts | Tags: adulthood, driving, family, humor, kids, Marriage, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, south, southern, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens
Wow–times have changed in our house. The conversations have moved from questions like, “Mommy, are unicorns real?” to “Mom, did you ever smoke weed when you were in high school?”
That question alone has sent many a parent into a tailspin. Add to that the following recent family conversations, and you begin to see why bourbon’s calming effects are…welcome.
Yesterday, my newly-minted driver, Daughter #1, went to Whole Foods after soccer practice and got some chocolate milk for herself and her sister. After deciding it tasted good at first, like butter or melted ice cream, apparently it wasn’t so hot at the finish.
Daughter #2: “It tasted kind of like udders.”
Hubby: “How do you know what udders taste like?”
Me (to myself…): Oh no…
Daughter #2: “I harken back to my youth.”
An actual, recent road trip conversation:
On a road trip in the car, Hubby decided to pass the time (briefly–he learns quickly) by beating out the rhythm of a song on the top of my exposed thigh.
Me: “Just so you know, it’s really not cool to play the drums on your wife’s thigh fat.”
Daughter #1 (in the backseat): “I know! He does it to me too!”
Hubby (to Daughter #1): “Yeah, but yours is all muscle. It makes a different sound.”
Me: GLARE
And finally, after Daughter #2 owned up to lying to one of her teachers last year, Daughter #1 couldn’t stand it:
Daughter #1: Mom, you laughed when Daughter #2 told her teacher she had a disease so she could wear her short shorts to school, but you got mad when I told my teacher I couldn’t turn in my homework because the printer was broken when it wasn’t. That’s so not fair!
Daughter #2: It wasn’t a total lie–I was still getting tested.*
Me: There’s a big difference between lying about not doing your homework and wearing shorts that are too far above the knee, when you’re legs are a mile long.
Daughter #1: (Sighs…) I guess either way you’re going to end up a hooker.
Hubby: True, true.
*(Daughter #2 does not have a disease. She’s fine!)
Filed under: Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Ben & Jerry's, capitalism, Food, free markets, health, humor, ice cream, Marriage, nutrition, shopping, subourbonmom
I’ve got a serious issue with Ben & Jerry’s. Twenty-five years ago, Hubby and I spent a lot of our college dating time riding around in the shuttle he drove for extra money, eating Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. This year, on our 20th anniversary, Hubby went out for some Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, and came home with…Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Toffee Crunch.
It was NASTY.
We Googled why they changed, and apparently they were feeling guilty about the state of America’s health, and of developing country’s economies, so they changed to a healthy version from a free trade country.
Um, news flash, Ben & Jerry’s: if I’m eating Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, chances are I’m not too worried about my health. And just for you capitalists out there, Ben & Jerry are missing a major point: if it tastes nasty (and it does), people won’t buy it. Then you’re not helping anybody.
Hubby sent a nasty-gram to B&J, and they kindly sent us some coupons. But what we really want is our flavor back–so please, Ben & Jerry, stop researching ways to make “Fish Food” flavor out of salmon for those good omega-3s, and bring my Coffee Heath Bar Crunch back.
Subourbon Mom 