I’ve been wanting to write on my blog for about a week now, but haven’t had the time. I got very little sleep last week and didn’t get to catch up on rest during the weekend, either. My brothers and their families came to visit for Easter, and the sleep deprivation was totally worth it.
Let’s see…where to begin? I wrote notes to myself throughout the week to remind myself what I wanted to include in my blog. The first note says "Walkin’ the dog, kickin’ the cat, out havin’ fun, that’s where we’re at." It was the answering machine message of a subscriber I called a few weeks ago. If the content of the message wasn’t sophisticated enough, imagine it in a redneck accent. Now that you have almost the full picture, let me tell you the last name of this family…
WAIT FOR IT…
WAIT FOR IT…
THIS IS GOOD, I PROMISE…
AND I’M NOT MAKING IT UP…
The name was Butts.
During class on Tuesday, instead of saying anything thought-provoking (or anything at all), I wrote "p. pig, go…see?" This is in reference to two stories I should probably share now that I’ve told you I made notes of it, and you’re wondering what it means.
My dad could tell you what "p. pig" stands for, as he is the creator of it. I’m not sure if it was sometime after I broke both of my wrists and had to wear two casts, or another time when I was whining about something, but the story Dad told me went something like this:
Once upon a time there was a princess. Now, her favorite thing to do was to go downtown and ride the purple pig. You see, an attraction in their town was a huge purple pig you could ride for $1. The purple pig was only available to the general public for riding every few days. However, since she was royalty and all, the princess demanded to ride the purple pig EVERY DAY. Day after day after day. Soon the pig began to grow tired. One day when she went to ride it, the purple pig plumb passed out from exhaustion. Her father told her, "NOBODY rides the purple pig every day." The moral of the story is that no one gets what they want all the time. I am frequently reminded of this reality of life by the phrase "Nobody rides the purple pig every day."
I don’t know if my mother could tell you the second story based on the second half of that note, but the phrase "Go…see?" will always and forever be famous in my mind. My family was living in Colorado one summer when my Mom took my brothers and me to the pool. I was probably only 5 or so, and didn’t know how to swim. The pool had a huge slide at the deep end, and my brothers were going down the slide over and over again. I was so jealous. I really wanted to go down that slide, but I couldn’t because I didn’t know how to swim. So I went over to where my mom was laying out, and I asked her if I could go down the slide. She said it was probably too deep for me. Then she said this:
Which to a rational non-five-year-old means "Go take a look at the water level, and if it’s too deep, don’t go down the slide."
But what I heard was "Go…see?"
Which means this:
Go down the slide. It’s not deep, see?
So I went down the slide, against the advice of my brothers who were also in line for the slide. I got to the end of the slide, flew into the water and promptly began to sink. I can’t remember for sure, but I don’t think I even tried to not drown. The next thing I knew, the lifeguard was pulling me out by my hair. It’s possible she actually got in and pulled me out, but for some reason I remember it as being dragged out by my hair.
I have no idea what that means. I wrote it during a particularly soporific History of Magic lesson.
Yes, it rained a lot. And it flooded a bunch, but not enough to keep me from going to work or school, which makes it unimpressive flooding, in my opinion. Although we did get several faxes at work of press releases from a Baptist church in Wichita saying that they were glad people died in the floods and hoped 15,000 more people would die and that southeastern Missourians were wicked, debauched, etc. Um…yeah…because southeastern Missourians are so drastically different from Wichita folk…morons.
Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi
Pepsi is gross enough on its own, but if you take away the sugar and you’re left with Diet Pepsi, my advice is not to accidentally leave your bottle of Diet Pepsi next to a bottle of formaldehyde, because you might not be able to tell the difference between the two. I broke down and bought a Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi at work the other day because I was out of nice normal Diet Coke. I thought maybe with the cherry flavor it would be tolerable, but I should have known better. You can’t put a feather boa on a pig and expect it to rumba.
I’ll just tell this story, because if I tell you the note first, it will give away the punchline.
I was using a three-hole punch at work and I accidentally knocked a bunch of little round circles of paper onto the floor. I picked up as much as I felt like picking up, because it was Tuesday and the cleaning crew would be coming in that very night. Some of the other employees saw me do that and teased me about making a mess. I explained that I would normally pick it all up, but I knew the cleaning crew was coming and so didn’t feel I needed to be obsessive-compulsive. Then they told me that the cleaning crew was not very good at what they did. The little old lady who works part-time in our front office had "tested" the cleaning crew by putting several paper clips on the floor, in what was more or less the middle of the room. I was informed that the paper clips stayed there for months and were never picked up by the cleaning crew. I thought to myself, "Putting paper clips on the floor to test the cleaners – sounds like something an old lady would do."