Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Parenting | Tags: adulthood, cell phones, children, family, humor, kids, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, sleep, sleep texting, smart phones, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens, texting
I recently read an article about “sleep texting.” Apparently, this is becoming an issue, especially with teens, who have their phone attached to their body, sucking their communication skills away as fast as the Seahawks sucked away Peyton Manning’s dreams.
This happens at my house, too!
Similar to sleepwalking, people are now reading and responding to texts while asleep. Some of those afflicted have even resorted to wearing mittens and socks to bed to prevent this from happening. Wow—that’s a generational difference. We older people have been known to wear socks with lotion in them to bed to keep our feet and hands from cracking–not so we don’t text our friends. In fact, I have no desire to hear from anybody after 8:00pm, much less contact them in my sleep.
One doctor said having your phone where you can hear it buzz while you sleep is similar to how a mother is conditioned to respond to a baby crying in the middle of the night; the slightest sound wakes her up. For those of you who had babies, you remember that sleep-deprived stage when you woke up to every little scratch and squeak your newborn made? Well, teenagers are sleeping as lightly as we did, and it is making them even more pleasant to be with during the day.
But in a world where communication is becoming such an issue, with bullying at the forefront, just imagine the drama that could ensue from sleep texting in high school. (Please note I am aware of how pathetic my attempts are at mimicking the texting shorthand Daughters 1&2 use–I still can’t bring myself to use the word “totes.”)
It’s 2:00am and “Julie” is woken up by the buzz from the phone on her night table:
Samantha: you up?
Julie: ya y?
Samantha: Jack just broke up with me
Julie (dreaming about Grey’s Anatomy, which she’s been watching non-stop since Christmas break): McSteamy?
Samantha: wut?!? Since when do you like jack… (red, angry face emoticon)
Julie: he’s hot but he likes Lexi
Samantha: Lexi? In Algebra?
Julie: Lexi loves him.
Samantha: how do u know?
Julie: they had sex
Samantha: when? how do u know? I thought she was a virgin!! (seven confused emoticons)
Julie: but he has a kid and she’s mad
Samantha: ???
Julie: (back asleep–no response)
Samantha: WTF I hate it when u do this u r so weird why don’t u answer me?
Julie: (no response—asleep)
Samantha: I knew u couldn’t b serious about it u always make a joke about everything u r supposed to be my best friend don’t even talk to me at school! (fifteen crying emoticons)
Now, imagine Julie trying to explain that she has no memory of sending those texts to an irate Samantha, just after Samantha has crucified Lexi and Jack at school. (is there a shaking head with pity emoticon?)
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Parenting, Posts, Sports | Tags: adulthood, apps, condoms, football, hormones, humor, libraries, Marriage, Middle-Age, mom, NFL, parenting, sex, sports, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens, WiFi
As promised last week, here are a few inventions I would like to patent but never will, because I am lazy, can’t do math or chemistry, and don’t want librarians or activists to hunt me down. Football coaches, I’ve seen your physiques–good luck catching me.
1. Condoms with the words “What Would Jesus Do?” printed on them. It’s the perfect compromise, people—pro-choice, and yet discouraging at the same time. For the non-Christians among us, substitute whatever deity you believe in. For atheists and religions that don’t worry so much about sex as much as Christians do, change it to “Do you like changing diapers?” If you are more worried about disease than pregnancy, or if you work for the CDC, change it to, “Do you have your $50 co-pay ready?”
Puke Pourri:
Spritz our smelly stuff about,
And the puke smell’s gone
By the time you check out!
2. A spray that makes library books stop smelling like vomit. Daughter #2 always asks me, “When we can go to Barnes & Noble?,” (we are not electronic readers) and I always reply that the library books are free, so we should go there instead. “Not thanks,” is her reply. When I asked her why she never wanted to go to the library, Daughter #2 said, “They always smell like throw-up.” So of course, I went to the library and amused myself (and others I’m sure) by smelling lots of books in the children and teen sections. You know what? She was right. They do smell like vomit. So, in the same spirit as the incredibly wonderful Poo-Pourri spray (sold at Hallmark–thanks Debra!) that eliminates poo odors in the bathroom, I would invent “Puke-Pourri” spray, conveniently sold at all libraries. It could even be a fundraiser for our national libraries!
3. A remote, phone-specific disconnection timer app that would disconnect certain phones in my house from the WiFi for certain periods of time during the day, like 7:00-8:00am, and during scheduled homework times. This would make getting out the door in the mornings with teenagers easier, and the process of getting homework done much faster. This app would be controlled by specific phones (mine), so the teenagers could not turn it off. I Googled it–so far all I saw was a list of sites complaining about phones disconnecting all by themselves…
4. The hormone alert wristband. If only humans were as straight-forward as cats when they want to have sex. When a cat is in heat, she will meow incessantly, sending out her mating call for all the tomcats in the area to hear (It’s only finny if it’s not your cat). If only men and women could send out signals like that in a bar, or, even better, after a decade or three of marriage. The hormone alert wristband can be made for both men and women. The woman’s band would determine estrogen and progesterone fluctuations, alerting her partner that her emotions might be running high, or that her estrogen levels are low, so trying any hanky-panky is most likely futile (unless you want to keep pestering for some pity sex, in which case I say good luck to you–keep trying and you might draw back a bloody stump). The men’s wristband would detect testosterone levels, alerting his companion to the fact that he is more likely to be aggressive; and it would detect vasopressin levels which, according to a Men’s Health article (http://www.menshealth.com/mhlists/understanding_sex_and_the_brain/printer.ph), are involved in regulating sexual persistence, assertiveness, dominance, and territorial marking. High vasopressin levels could alert his partner to the increased likelihood that the man will want sex, or might be inclined to wander. Either way, if a woman’s estrogen levels are low at the same time, put the basketball game on–he won’t bother you or anyone else.
Photo courtesy of ajc.com
6. An NFL coach that teaches players how to tackle.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Ducks, Fears, humor, Office Parties, Phobias, south, southern
This year, one of my favorite presents was a bathroom book filled with trivia. In addition to the myriad useless facts stored in the depths of my brain that prevent me from ever finding my keys, I now have even more ways to annoy my family and friends. One of the facts I came across was this:
Anatidaephobia is the fear that somewhere in the world, a duck is watching you.
Just to be clear, I looked up the definition of a phobia. A phobia is an overwhelming and unreasonable fear of an object or situation that poses little real danger…is long-lasting, causes intense physical and psychological reactions, and can affect your ability to function normally at work or in social settings.
So there are actually people who cannot get up and go to work because they are terrified that somewhere in the world a duck might be watching them?
I could see it, maybe, if someone during duck hunting season was suddenly attacked in an act of aviary revenge; or, if someone lived near a pond during duck mating season and was mistaken for a female mallard. Duck sex is violent (I live near a pond and have witnessed the attacks), and because of that I am glad I am human and have opposable thumbs. Mandy Mallard must fly faster and learn aerial acrobatics that rival super sonic jets in order to get away from her “partner.” I just have to be able to activate my taser with my thumb (and remember to bring it with me).
But there’s two things about this phobia I really don’t understand—first, Anatidaephobia isn’t just a fear of being watched by a duck. It’s the fear that ANY duck ANYWHERE in the world might be watching. In my head, all I can picture is one massive duck eye floating in the sky, watching us, like Saron in Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, or for you non-fantasy geeks, picture the unblinking eye that floats over the pyramid on our dollar bills.
Second, people with Anatidaephobia can’t function normally in their work or social settings. Picture this: You are at your office Christmas party trying to make small talk with Bill the accountant who is rarely out of his cube, and who pops some kind of pill with every Coke he swills all day long. He is sweating profusely, staining the bright green shirt he put on for the occasion, and constantly glancing out the windows.
“Is there something wrong?” you ask Bill.
Bill shakes his head, but can’t focus on you. He glances out the window again. You look behind you, but only see snow glistening off the bushes.
“Are you sure? Is there something out there?” you ask. Maybe Bill is afraid someone has reported his meager insider trading to the cops, and he’s waiting for them to show up.
“They’re watching,” Bill whispers urgently.
You decide Bill has definitely done something illegal, or else he’s smoked some bad weed and is having the worst trip of his life.
“Who?” you whisper back, playing along, hoping its just the weed.
The duck,” he answers, clutching his solo cup even tighter. A crack appears, but Bill doesn’t notice the white wine dripping down his hand.
You look out the window again but don’t see any ducks. There is only snow and other buildings. It’s an office block for God’s sake.
“What duck?” you ask, trying to wave Barbara from IT over. This one will go down in the annals of great office Christmas party stories.
Bill points a shaking finger out the window. “He’s out there. Watching me.”
“Where?”
More white wine sloshes onto the industrial-strength carpet.
“I don’t know,” Bill whimpers, “but he’s out there!” Bill scuttles off to the bathroom, hands shaking, his shirt soaked through. Ted from HR follows, cell phone in hand.
You can’t help but glance out the window one more time. You aren’t afraid of ducks, but you definitely are now a candidate for having Christo-anthropophobia, the fear of office Christmas parties. (Don’t bother looking it up—anthropophobia, the fear of social situations, is true a phobia, but I added the prefix.
I think I’ll go put it up in Wikipedia and see how long it stays…after I get over my Cyberphobia.
Filed under: Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, Christmas, Crockpots, family, Food, Holidays, humor, lingerie, Lobster, Marriage, Middle-Age, news, ohio, reporting, south, southern, television, thelapine.ca
In the days immediately following Christmas, I turned the national news on and saw that the scrubs were in for the usual anchors. I should have known right then to just turn it off, but like a driver passing a wreck, I couldn’t look away. I watched as some intern’s work went out over the air, and I cringed.
The anchor was reporting on the delays UPS and Fed-Ex experienced during the holidays, explaining that bad weather, a shortened shopping season and the massive on-line purchases contributed to the delays. Naturally, it followed that they would interview someone who had been inconvenienced. Unfortunately, they chose to interview one of their employees, who was complaining that the dozen or so fresh lobsters she’d ordered for her Christmas Eve dinner were delivered after the event, and her Christmas was ruined.
I’m sorry…a dozen fresh lobsters?
Wow. Her life is HARD.
Nice choice, editorial staff. Way to make a point.
Disgusted, I turned off the news and continued to avoid the holiday clean-up ritual by incessantly playing Candy Crush and Pet Rescue Saga.
A few days later, I was surfing FaceBook (more procrastinating), and I came across the following news report:
Ohio Wife Torches Husband’s Truck After Getting Crock Pot and Cheap Lingerie for Xmas (thelapine.ca)
DAYTON — Police arrested 34-year old Tracy Waters yesterday morning after she allegedly set fire to her husband Dave’s 2013 Chevy Silverado Crew Cab in a rage over her Christmas gifts.
“He gave me a slow-cooker and these red nylon crotchless panties with a push-up bra,” Mrs. Waters told police.
“The bra had tassels for fuck sake. Tassels.”
Police have charged Mrs. Waters with arson, assault with a weapon (“a 4-gallon ceramic crock pot with corn-on-the-cob pattern”) and using foul language in public.
Mr. Waters told the Dayton Daily News that he was excited about his gifts for his wife and doesn’t understand why she became angry and turned violent.
“Good food, good lovin’, and a good truck were all I wanted for Christmas,” said the 37-year-old warehouse worker sporting a swollen-shut right eye.
Seriously, you can’t make that stuff up.
These are the people I want to see being interviewed on the national news. When I read the article out loud to Hubby (before thinking it through that our daughters were also in the car), nobody asked why nylons would be crotchless, or why anyone would want tassels. I was grateful and horrified at the same time.
Hopefully, they also now know that a crockpot counts as a deadly weapon.
Subourbon Mom 