I Hate Flying Things...

The roomie and I spent a relaxing Sunday pampering ourselves with mani's/pedi's and really good coffee.
As we were leaving the nail salon, I spotted a snickers bar. Snickers bite sized, of course. But still snickers. And still ooey and gooey and caramel-y and chocolate-y and .. and.. well, you get the point.

As I was ripping open the elusive snickers bar, I ruined my nail. For the third time. (yes, I'm super impatient and/or spastic and always hit my nails on something or touch them too early and pow! it's ruined.) And the roomie was totally making fun of me for being spastic/impatient and was all, "Wow.. I can't believe you had to have your nails retouched 3 times because you can't just sit like a normal person and let them dry."

Truth hurts.Whatevs.

I was plotting my revenge when all of a sudden a flippin' stink bug the size of Montana flew and landed on my hand. If you know anything about stink bugs, you know you can't squish them because they smell all kinds of gross. And they are totally prehistoric looking, so they look like they may be distant relatives of triceratops.

In my head I'm all like, "WTF do I do?! I can't squish this thing because there will be bug guts all over my hand. And I can't move my fingers because the roomie will make fun of me and I'm out of the salon now so I can't even get this shiz fixed. CRAP!" Outside my head, I'm all like, "aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" and I blew on the darn thing and won't you know it wouldn't even move! It was like the spider man of stink bugs. Again, I'm all like, "aaaaaaaaaaah!" and blowing my brains out trying to get this thing to fly away.

Roommate? Laughing.

Me? Freaking.

Stink bug? Likely laughing.

I finally decided to flick my hand. Won't you know that thing stood there and took it! I finally gave one good blow and it didn't budge, but then jumped off my hand. I totally showed that thing who is boss!

From there, we headed to the pet store to check out the prices on dog bones because when you have two dogs, it's like you go through bones in a hot second and all we ever do is spend $20 here and $20 there on stupid bones for the dogs. So we wanted them cheap.

We're just walking in when I see some 10 year old holding a freakin' gerbil in his hand and I'm all like, "Holy shiz! Drop that thing! It might bite you!" As I'm having a mental freak out, a bird begins squawking. We're talking screaming at us.

Now would be a great time to time-out and remind you that I'm deathly afraid of birds. I was attacked on multiple occasions growing up and I just can't handle them.

So I'm having a mental freak out about the creepy crawly gerbil while this 10 year old is all but making out with it, when the bird screams bloody murder at me. You know what I did? I ran. I ran out of the bloody pet store because I'm a baby and I'm scared to death of birds.

And you know what that 10 year old did? He laughed at me.

Sucker. Wait 'til the gerbil poops on your hand.

Images:
http://blog.webosaurs.com/tag/triceratops/
http://www.arkadiapest.com/stink_bugs

Tolls? Psh.. Who Pays 'Em Anyway?

I may or may not have taken a wrong turn on my way back from the city today. Read: Baltimore. Said wrong turn resulted in taking the tunnel, which is, of course, with a fee. A toll. Crap.

Guess who NEVER carries cash? This girl.

See the problem?

At least the people in Baltimore are much nicer than those neighbors to the north, in PA. They totally were like, "Oh it happens all the time. Here's a ticket, call tomorrow and pay with your credit card! Drive safely." as opposed to the jerks in PA who made me pull over, wait for a manager to write up a darn ticket for me and then proceeded to tell me that I had to pay it with a check or money order. Um.. hello? Have you ever heard of plastic?

Yes, this means I've been caught twice without cash at a toll plaza.

Mom mentioned something about having cash in my wallet just in case. Where's the fun in that?

Blonde..

Just bought a birthday card for a GIRLfriend... and after signing it, realized it said "Hey Guy! It's your birthday..."

Blame the blonde. Good thing she knows I'm a complete moron sometimes.

In other news, The Bachelor is on. Right now. Adios.

You're..er.. I'm so vain..

The other day, a student was asked who his teacher was (he is new to our school, someone was wondering where he belonged..) and he said, "Uh, the white lady with bright yellow hair." Um, wait. White? Yes. Bright yellow hair? No. Does that mean I let Rose lighten me too much? Now I'm all worried about having bright yellow hair!

And now, for the real reason I should question my vanity. The tanner. Go ahead, judge away. I know it's bad for you, causes skin cancer, blah, blah, blah. But this chick is heading to Florida at the end of March and having fair skin means lots of sunburns when on vacation. In order to curb that, I tan a bit before I go so I don't have to reapply the sunblock every five minutes two hours. I've always had this irrational fear of someone walking in on me in the dressing room or the tanner. We're talking, double and triple check to see if the door is locked. Today? I heard a door open and someone shout, "Sorry!" while I was tanning. Talking myself out of near hysteria, I proudly told myself it wasn't me. Just someone who bumped into someone else in the hallway. I was totally fine. Crisis averted.

Until I was leaving. The helpful lady at the counter quietly says, "Ma'am, make sure you lock your door when you are tanning. Someone walked in the wrong room today. It was a mistake." Walked in the wrong room? Walked in the wrong room? As in my room? Crap. She saw me naked. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to tan in peace again... or at least without having a panic attack.

Open Mouth... Insert Foot..

Actual conversation with a Police Officer in a gas station...

Setting: Gas station...

In walks girl. As she enters, she notices two gentlemen watching her. One a police officer, one the clerk for the gas station.

Girl: (startled) Oh! I suddenly feel like I did something wrong... Like I was naughty!

Guys: hysterics...

Girl: Um.. that didn't come out right.

Police officer: I'm sure it didn't.

Another Blonde Moment..

A little bit of a cooking oops...

See this? It's the spaghetti squash. Apparently you're supposed to poke it more than three times when you cook it in the microwave or it will literally explode in your microwave.

A close up of the explosion....

The white "tumors" coming out of it? Just the pressure and the steam coming out of the poked holes.

The microwave after the explosion.

Oops. My bad.

But.. it was really good. And totally good for you! That's a double bonus!!

My Bad..

See how this....?

Looks a lot like... this?
Turns out they make police-issue mace look a lot like a mag lite flashlight. I figured that one out today as I was sitting in the car playing with my friend's key chain. As I was wondering how on Earth the little hole on the end could make for a good flashlight, I turned it and pushed the button. SPRAY! Mace. In the car. Right by my face

My bad.

Caution!

I should not be left alone. With the absence of grad classes and the trillions of papers I always had to do... I have a bit of free time on my hands. Hubby is gone for the evening. This is never a good thing. I always come up with some crazy ideas. Once, I tore up the carpeting on the stairs without asking hubby. He was a little surprised when he came home. Another time? I dyed my hair. It turned orange. Then I tried to dye it a more natural color and it turned yellow. Not blonde. Yellow.

This time? I bought a wave maker blow dryer and new sunless tanning lotion. I now have crazy hair and a deep bronze shimmer to my body. Unfortunately, it's not quuuuuuuuuuite right. Streaks and wavy hair just don't mix.

Blame the Blonde..

Today? Hubby and I were on our way to the vet with Big Dog (that's a story for another post) after we had dropped his car off to get an oil change. As I shut the door, I remembered that my keys were in the house.

Me: (dead serious tone) Crap.
Hubby: What?
Me: My keys.
Hubby: What?
Me: My keys. They are in the house.
Hubby: So go grab them.
Me: The door. It's locked.
Hubby: Very funny.
Me: Seriously.
Hubby: How were you expecting to get to the vet?

In my defense... Hubby ALWAYS drives when we go places. Therefore I never need my keys. The one time I don't grab them.. we're locked out. With a dog. In the rain. For an hour.

$88.00 later, we're in the house with the keys.

The locksmith? He definitely just slid a card in and opened the door. He made $88 in less than 30 seconds. What an awesome job.

That's Odd...

I just got back from the grocery store (note: it's currently 9:40) and while I was there I noticed two different families with school-aged children out and about doing their shopping. I'm no rocket scientist or parenting guru, but I am a teacher, and I know that if you're doing grocery shopping at 9 something on a Sunday night, then your child will not go to bed at a decent hour. Sleepy children= headache for their teacher.

I'm not judging, even though it sounds like I might be, but I think it's just unhealthy for kids to be out and about that late. I know there are some children who do not require 10-12 hours of sleep a night, but the average child does need to be in bed or winding down from the day at 9 something at night.

On a lighter note, I did manage to make a fool of myself in the grocery store parking lot. As I was just reaching to get in the car, I used the remote to unlock the car. Unfortunately I pushed the panic button. The loud honking caused me to drop my keys. Under the car. I definitely had to climb under part of the car to grab the keys while the car was in full blown panic-mode. I think they call those a panic button because we all tend to panic when we hit it!

Blonde hair: 3, Lori: 0

Blonde Moments...

Last night we were getting ready to play pictionary when I loudly* ask, "We have to draw with those little pencils? How do we get them out of the little holders? I know they always have little pencils, but these are just ridiculous!" Um.... hello, those are the markers for your spot, not the pencils you draw with. Oops.. blonde moment.

*I do not have an inside voice. No matter what I say, everyone is bound to hear it.

This morning I was getting all creative in paint when hubby asks me what I'm doing. I giggle to myself and say, isn't this guy creepy? I'm blogging about how this creepy guy is always on my email. every.day. He begins giggling.. he's like, I think you can just click the x above his head and he'll go away. Oops, my bad. Blonde moment numero dos.

He is pretty creepy looking. He looks like he really wants to have a face to face convo with me. I mean REALLY wants to talk to me. I'm glad hubby explained to me how to get him to go away. I kind of felt like he was always staring at me. Weird.

Blame the Blonde...

Um.. so this morning?

I lost my keys.

Guess where I found them?

In the refrigerator. Because isn't that where you keep your keys?

Didn't think so...

Uh-Oh...

Those were my exact words today when I proceeded to throw away my engagement ring/wedding band. On accident.

As soon as I said it, I had two ladies helping me dig through the trash can to find it. Thankfully (I think..) I was in a bathroom so the only trash in there was paper towels. It took about 5 minutes, but we found them.

Seriously? Could that be any more disgusting? Digging through a trash can? In an airport? Gross.

But they are safe and sound right back on my fingers. Don't worry, I soaked them in ring cleaner for no less than 30 minutes.