Let's Teach Our Kids to Blow Themselves Up!

We've all seen stories like this...

"Please read.  It won't hurt to forward."

"Please share.  Save a life."

"Daddy will buy me a new Porsche if I reach 1,000,000 likes!"

Well maybe not the last one but you get the idea.

FaceBook is a love-hate relationship for me. I'm on it all the time, following my friends posts, posting my own stuff, pictures of my kids (especially DD since she's only a few months old and she's of course the cutest baby ever!).  I have access to it everywhere thanks to my smart phone, except while driving (don't want to end up a car pretzel).

However, I absolutely LOVE IT when the bully from my 7th grade class sends me a friend request (more like LOVE to deny his request). I can't stand when people you never even talked to in school suddenly appear and say, "How are you?  I haven't seen or talked to you in ages. What are you up to now?"  Do you really care or are you just trying to find out how much better you are than me? 

All that aside, I have bigger issues.  I really hate it when people post things that aren't true, or possibly dangerous.  Save yourself and your friends a lot of time by taking down this address.

www.snopes.com

Take 30 seconds out of your busy FaceBook filled day to save your friends, and their friends, and their friends the 3 minutes it will take to read the two page story that an onion will keep you healthy that isn't even true.  Before you hit that Share button, look it up.  Is it true?  Could it possibly be dangerous?

Luckily, I actually have this skill called tact. It's a trait that seems to be on the endangered species list.  I don't normally correct my friends that they've been taken in by something so easily proved wrong.

So my fuse ran out when I read a warning that a friend of mine posted.  It was about kids making bottle bombs and leaving them in people's yards, mailboxes, etc.  "They mix this, with a little of that, and put a ball of this in a bottle and put in people's yards."  Long story short, home owner picks it up, the mixture explodes and you have no fingers left and serious injuries to your face and eyes.  Only this, that, and this had all the ingredient names to make a bottle bomb.  Thanks for the warning by why the hell are you spreading around the ingredients for a bottle bomb?!?!?!  Kids get into enough trouble on their own, they don't need your help!  Why are you sharing in plain site of the thousands+ youth on FaceBook how to make a bomb?

Yes, I understand that you can Google it.  But it's one thing for a kid to go looking for the instructions to something dangerous and something entirely different to hand it to them saying don't do this!  You just put the thought in their head!  Yes, most kids won't do it, but what about the curious kids or those who just attract trouble to them?  Even worse, what about the kid who is so defiant, he's going to do whatever you tell him not to? You just gave them the recipe!  Hey everyone!  Let me show you how to blow yourselves up.

Anyone see the Butterfly Effect? Yeah, it's Hollywood, but point made.

Is it true?  Yes and no.  Bottle bombs have been around as long as the ingredients have been readily available.  Have their been recent threats with bottle bombs? Yes, if you live in Beavercreek, OH.  Anywhere else, probably not, at least not yet.  Now that this warning is going around, there might be a bunch of copycats.

So, you want to share how to do Cough CPR to save some one's life? Take a class on it (you'll learn it doesn't work in most cases and could actually make things worse). No, Bill Gates is not going to give you or anyone else $5,000 for sharing his picture (that's obviously been photo shopped if you look at it).  And the kids who want a puppy, make them earn it.  Teach them they will be rewarded for their hard work, not how many people shared their photo.

As for the kid who has leukemia, please like/share.  We all need a little happiness and a reminder that people care.  :-)

One of the funniest waxing stories....

I know I haven't posted in like a week but I promise I'll make up for it now.  I'm new to this whole blogging thing, anyway.

The following is not of my own making and I don't know who Tina is.  I found it on FaceBook and it was too good not to share.  If this story isn't viral yet, it will be!

You know the term lmfao.  This is one story that makes takes lmfao literally!

Disclaimers:  Use the bathroom or use some type of incontinence protection.  You'll need it!  Also, be careful of drinking any beverage or food that you don't want to come out through you're nose.

Waxing! (Tina's Story)...

My night began as any other normal weeknight.  Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: 'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.

No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.  (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. 'Cold wax,' yeah... right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!

OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!

I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.

Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted.

I think I may pass out.....must stay conscious...must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.

I hold up the strip!

There's no hair on it.

Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip...it's not! I touch. I am touching wax.

I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake... remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.

Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself 'Please don't let me get the urge to poop..

My head may pop off!' What can I do to melt the wax?

Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand, into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???

*WRONG!!!!!!!*

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.

Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub....in scalding hot water.

Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter. 'So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!'

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me.

She wants to know exactly where the wax is located,

Are we talking cheeks or hoo-ha?'

She's laughing out loud by now. I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.

What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.

IT WORKS!!

It works !! I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair... THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color......

The Power of Hormones

Ever meet a person who just can't let it go? I don't mean a stalker or anything. Well, maybe a stalker, an idea stalker. Stubbornly persistent at the very least. Here's what I mean.

CW: "Why can't we send out a mass email?"

Boss: "Our system is outdated and a lot of email clients kick it out as spam. Even then it takes forever which is time we don't have."

The luxury of working for a non-profit!

Anyway, back to the story. Several minutes later while on a new topic....

CW: "Why can't we send out a mass email?"

Boss: "As I said earlier, our system is outdated and it gets kicked out as spam. And it takes a long time to do."

15 minutes later after a few other items are discussed....

CW: "I know I asked this earlier, but I don't understand. Why can't we send out a mass email?"

At this point the rest of us are fuming, holding on to our seats for dear life, digging our nails into the arms of the chairs so we don't strangle the fucking idiot.

Me: "We just can't! We barely make enough to keep the place open let alone upgrade our computers! Stop sounding like a broken record and go back to the village! They miss their idiot."

That's what I'd like to say, anyway.

But of course, I sit there quietly, getting splinters under my nails, while I pretend to have the patience of a saint like I'm suppose to, wondering if this will carry on throughout the whole meeting, or if he'll switch to a second topic he can't let go of, while our boss nicely explains again why we can't send out a mass email. (Wow! That's a really long run-on sentence. That would really piss him off!)

Every meeting it's the same thing. One time CW went on about the correct spelling of a word for several weeks. We even brought in a hardbound dictionary (he doesn't do smart phones) to show it was correct. We started placing bets the last few meetings to see if he gave up yet. He didn't. It still comes up occasionally.

It's not like CW isn't intelligent. In fact, he's very smart. Occasionally, he's even likable.  Not often, but sometimes.  He's just so unavoidably annoying!  He acts like a three year old who can think of nothing else but the toy he can't have. I have enough toddlers and kids in my life. They are at least cute and trainable. 

However, I remember fondly the day I finally did a Mount Saint Helen's and blew up at him. It was wonderful! Unfortunately, it didn't do any good. But hey, I felt much better and I didn't lose my job over it (mainly because it was blamed on the fact I was nine months pregnant with DD).

Gotta love the power of hormones! (Not the best title, but I like the sound of it)

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog!  Not sure why I said that considering I don't ever expect anyone else to read this except for me. I always thought blogs were stupid. Why would you bother and who cares anyway?  Then I came across an article in the Huffington Post about Rules for grandparents. It was great!  Turns out its from a blog, People I Want to Punch in the Throat, by Jen. So I started reading some of Jen's other posts and loved it!  What a great way to vent (and I have a lot I need to vent about)!  Wish I could do something like that. But I'm not like Jen. She's awesome and I wish I could be more like her.  But we have different personalities and as much as I'd like to tell people what I think of them, most of the time I can't.  Either because it's someone at work, I just care to much about hurting them, or what they'll think of me afterwards. Plus I'm one of those people who thinks of the witty comeback 10 minutes after its over. However, I highly recommend her blog (www.peopleiwanttopunchinthethroat.com).

Then the little lightbulb hovering above me went on. I could do that. I'd have to be myself but I could totally do that! Treat it like a journal or something. Write what goes on in my head (welcome to the looney bin). But I have to be careful of what I say, but how can I be completely honest without doing that?  It would defeat the purpose if I couldn't say what I think.

So everyone is anonymous, including myself, no identifying specifics while still getting the point across, and hopefully get a little humor out of it, too.

So what am I going to write about? Things I can't say out loud (most of the time).  Considering my job and I have a six year old and a three month old, I should have a lot to say. Opinions will be a definite. Funny stories of the present and the past. Fortunately, I have lots of these! And I imagine some sappy, sentimental crap, but not too much. I like to make people laugh, not cry (myself included), unless its laughing so hard you're crying! Just be careful not to piddle in your pants. Use the bathroom first.

Enough mushy shit. Time to overstate the obvious. So I've decided to start a blog. Do I expect anyone but me to read it? No. I can hope but I really don't expect it. I need a sounding board and this is it. And if someone enjoys reading it, great!  If not, piss off! It's my blog.