Tag Archives: humor

Gibbs says: Rule #9

Special Agent Gibbs has been visiting me in my sleep…in a totally un-scandalous sort of way. Considering what a total NCIS nerd I am and my propensity for bizarre dreams I’m not really surprised I’m starting to get guest stars from the cast, I just am impressed by how horribly awkward my sleeping brain has managed to make them.

Dream #1

Paper or plastic?

I’m in line at the grocery store when I realize that Mark Harmon was my checker. We make extremely awkward small talk when I realize who he is. I say something along the lines of “Wow, I mean, you’re the star of a really popular tv series and you still have to get a second job at a grocery store to make ends meet? That….sucks.”

He stares at me for a minute then in total Gibbs fashion replies “…..yah.” <extremely awkward silence>

I awkwardly gather my groceries and as I turn to leave realize that the rest of the cast is waiting for him.  Dinozzo (not Michael Weatherly) gives me a look like what the fuck is wrong with you?? And I leave. The end.

As if that one wasn’t weird enough last night he showed up again. This time he made his appearance as Gibbs himself and he had a message for me: Shave your armpits “because no one wants to see that”.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

PS: Just in case you’re as concerned as Gibbs about my grooming habits, I never don’t shave my arm pits. Now you know.

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Horses and Their Supernatural Powers

This is an old one (ya know, back when I had landlords and stuff), but it still makes me laugh 😉

 

I believe my landlords horses are capable of teleportation.

Its true!

Not too long ago I was cleaning stalls when I thought I saw something move in the dark. Looking hard, I didn’t see anything so I continued to muck. As I was leaving the barn I saw “something” move again and realized that it was Sadie, the 16 hand 1500 lb black Percheron, grazing on my front lawn. Needless to say I was slightly surprised and spent the next few minutes trying to herd her back into the barn.

To this day though I’m confused as to how she got OUT of the barn, since the ONLY way out would have been for her to silently and stealthily sneak past the stall I was cleaning without me seeing her. Now in my experiance 16hh 1500lb Percherons are not really known for their skills in stealth movement so the only other option is….

TELEPORTATION!! Its only logical :nod:

Then today they did it again! I was filling water buckets and so was peering in the stall to see how full they were. I observed Rusty, a chestnut morgan, munching on his hay. I took two steps to turn off the water faucet and pick up his scoop of grain. I entered Rusty’s stall and not really looking at the horse said “Rusty you’ve made a total mess of your-” I was going to say grain bucket, but at that point I had looked up and realized that the horse I was staring at wasn’t Rusty, but Khaiber (a bay arab)! We just stared at each other for a moment or two, Khaiber blinking with doe like innocence. I walked back out of the stall to see Rusty, in Khaibers stall! WTF?

The paddock gates were open, but still, they would have had to left the stalls, gone out of their fairly large paddocks and back through the others, and back into each others stalls in a matter of a few seconds. So they either completed the fastest equine Chinese fire drill in history, I’m out of my mind and cant tell the difference between a chestnut morgan and a dark bay arabian, OR….(you guessed it)

TELEPORTATION!!

Alternate theory…they’re unicorns in disguise. I’m gonna think on that one.

 

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The Curious Incident of the Bassets in the Night-Time

Super Sexy Boyfriend Luke has two basset hounds named Roofus & Roxi. They’re sweet and silly and smelly, which I think defines every basset hound ever. At night they sleep in the laundry/mini mud room to keep them from following their noses into the garbage/recycling. Their dog door is in the laundry room door, but it’s locked at night to keep them from baying at nothing all night (and I mean ALL night). Typically everyone is ok with this situation, until last night.

I woke up at 3:30 to the sound of a basset hound scratching at the floor in the laundry room.

Scratch Scratch Scratch

I rolled over and tried to ignore it, but it was pretty noticeable.

Scratch Scratch SCRATCH

It had been quite a few minutes. I assumed it was Roxi since she’s fond of knocking her food bowl over and then burying the kibble in her blankets so later when you go to do laundry in your bare feet it’s like a mini mine field.

SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH

Ok, I had had enough of dogs keeping me awake. I swung myself out of bed determined to take whatever toy or food she was attempting to bury on the linoleum and finally have some peace and quiet. Something to note at this point, which is a total overshare, but totally makes the story more funny (at least for me) is that I sleep in the nude. I stormed, totally naked, across the house to the laundry. To my surprise, I saw Roofus, not Roxi, scratching at the baby gate keeping them inside.

Something I hadn’t considered in my quest to quiet the dogs, is that, unlike Sammy who simply wags her tail when she notices I’m awake, Roofus and Roxi are basset hounds. The moment they saw me they both began baying at the top of their basset hound lungs. At 3:30am.

Roofus: ROOF ROOF ROOF ROOF!!

Roxi: AHROO AHROO AHROO AHROO!!

Me: NO! AHH! For the love of god be quiet! Luke and the girls are sleeping!!

Bassets: ROOF AHROO AHROO ROOF ROOF!!

I quickly opened the gate into the laundry room to try to quiet them down. Still making as much noise as possible, Roofus began to throw himself at the dog door while Roxi began to throw herself at me.

Me (still naked): No! No jumping! Ow! The claws! Gah the drool! Noooo!

I opened the dog door for Roofus and he bolted outside. I peered through the window to see what the big fuss had been about (turned out the water bowl was outside & he was thirsty). In the fraction of a second I took my attention off of Roxi, she realized that I had left the gate open. She flew through it at the speed of light and careened around the house, nails clacking loudly on the wood floor like a little four legged tap dancer. I sprinted after her, grabbing her by the collar right before she made it through the door to Luke’s room (if he wasn’t already awake he would have been when she dove onto the bed!).  I lead her back to the laundry room, shut the gate behind us, and waited for Roofus to come back inside. Roxi leaned against the dryer and beat her tail against it like a drum BONG BONG BONG until I grabbed it to keep it from wagging.

Finally Roofus returned, I closed the dog door behind him, and then headed back to bed (being sure to close the gate securely behind me). As I crawled back into bed I was convinced I had woken everyone in the house (I don’t think I could have made any more noise if I had let a marching band through the living room) and Luke would be furious since he had to be up in a couple hours. He rolled over and groggily (and non-furiously) asked “errythin’ okay babe?”

Me: OMG babe I’m so sorry! Roofus was scratching cause he was thirsty and then Roxi escaped and I was chasing her naked and-

Luke: ZZZZzzzzzzzZZZZZ

Me: ….never mind.

And then finally (FINALLY!) everything was quiet.

…..Until the thunder storm started a half hour later.

Roxi: AAAAHHHHRROOOO! AHHHHROOOOOOOOO!!

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Be Like Ants

On my last visit to visit Roo I accompanied her to church. You might not get why that statement alone is funny, but maybe you will when you’ve been reading this blog for a while.

Roo: I’m going to church with D tomorrow.

Me: LOL try not to catch fire when you walk in the door.

Roo: Fuck you.

She’d been going with D to his awful mega church and this was the third part of one of those awful sermon series on giving. Even back in the day when I was attending Crosslegs Church regularly with my family, if we caught wind of one of these sermons coming up we were making a bee line to Skip Church’s Bistro instead.

Aside from the expected condescending money advice (said pastor might actually have more money than God) he had this important wisdom for us to adhere to:

Be like ants.

Ants. The idea was that ants instinctually save up their food and supplies for the winter time, and likewise we should save our money for times of recession yada yada yada. Be like ants! Roo and I made eye contact and it was on.

So we should…

Be attracted to sugary substances?

Carry over 100 times our body weight?

Walk in orderly lines?

Sneak into my kitchen?

Worship our queen?

Show up uninvited to picnics?

And then, oh then, we found this: Eat some freaky fungus and become a zombie?

And thats the lesson I learned from church that Sunday.

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WTF Acronyms

The internet is full of  acronyms such as OMG WTF, which, coincidentally enough, is what what I say after seeing some of those acronyms. As nice as it is to shorten up phrases you’re using all the time, there really should be rules for making these things up, like, they can’t already be widely in use with a different meaning. Because when acronyms have multiple meanings, it gets awkward.

That being said, here’s a couple acronyms I’ve seen that you will NEVER see on this blog (at least, not used like that):

AF (aunt flow aka your PERIOD)- as a photographer this means Auto Focus and it always will. Even my lens agrees with it’s little af/mf button. I see woman writing about the problems they’re having with their “AF” and I’m like “JESUS CHRIST…my lens has never done that!!” If at any point your lens produces THAT kind of spotting, you probably should call the repair shop…or an exorcist.

STD (save the date)- this is a wedding term that should never ever be used. It makes me want to slap someone. If you don’t know what an STD actually is you aren’t ready to be married. Also you’ve probably never left the house. Save The Date cards are typically really cute and fun, can we not use an acronym that brings to mind itching and burning during urination (at best!)?

“OMG I just got Lindsay’s STD! I’m just itching for the wedding!”

DH (dearest/darling husband)- No. Just no. I get that ladies out there may not be as sports savvy as some, so let me explain: DH is Designated Hitter. It’s a baseball term. It has been for about five trillion years. If you ask your husband if he’s your DH he’ll probably give you a look that is partially terrified and partially confused…unless you’re the type that has a safe word in the bedroom, and then he’ll probably be like “I’ll get the paddle!!”

So please, for the love of god, if you all could come up with some alternate acronyms that would be awesome. If not for me, for the sake of your designated hitter.

What are some internet acronyms that make you want to stab someone with a fork?

 

PS: I use OpenOffice which tries to autofill longer words. Apparently I forgot to put a space when I typed “your PERIOD” which it immediately learned. So now every time I write “you” it’s like “Do you mean ‘yourPERIOD’??”. No OpenOffice. Just…no.

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Midnight Munchkin Attack

Super Sexy Boyfriend Luke has two beautiful little girls who live with him two weeks out of the month. They’re his of course, I’m not saying he just has these cute random little girls who come and pester him and eat his food…that’s my job. I haven’t come up with clever nicknames for them yet, so I’ll just call them K & L.

I love them to death, but not having little ones of my own, there have been some things that have taken getting used to. Mostly the way that they’ll show up in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Not because of…reasons *nudge nudge wink wink*, but because they’re absolutely stealthy about it  until they are RIGHT NEXT to the bed. Only then do they say something that wakes me up. And my un-baby-seasoned system, not accustomed to tiny people waking me up at night, is CONVINCED that anyone who is suddenly in the room MUST be an axe murderer.

K (silently moving across the house and appearing beside the bed): …………DADDY I FREW UP! 😦

Me (jumping out of my skin into adrenaline pounding fight or flight mode because theres an invader in the room): AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

K:  AAAHH!*BAARFFF*

Oopsie.

I’m getting better though, earlier this week L came into the room crying that her pillow pet wasn’t in her bed (it had fallen next to the bed) and I did NOT leap up and try to karate chop her, so that’s an improvement.

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A great cat name, or the best cat name of all time?

Four score and seven years ago, back when I was living in a McMansion with no furniture, I worked with my best friend “Roo” in a pet food store. We didn’t sell animals at The Pet Food Store which was cool because my view of puppy stores is about the same as puppy mills, which is about the same as cancerous sores. What we did do isadopt out kittens and cats through a local rescue which is way more awesome because the kitties come fixed & with all their shots. And also because we could decide not to give you a cat if you say “supposedly” “supposably”. Just kidding, we would never turn someone down for saying “supposably”, but drop an “irregardless” and you are right out.

All of our kitties also came with names that are usually picked by the rescue. The rescue sucked at naming cats. One kitty we had was named (100% serious about this)… Catcat. I desperately wanted someone cool to adopt Catcat just so that she could get the dignity of a decent name.

I shared my hope for Catcat to a cat loving customer. “Well,” he said “Its better than Clamidia.” which is a difficult point to argue since MOST things are better than a venereal disease but begs the question …WHAATT??!?!

Apparently he had been at a shelter and came upon a cat that the rescue had named (you guessed it) Clamidia. And they could NOT figure out what he found so funny. We, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious and fantastically awkward. Imagine the awesomeness/terrible misunderstandings a name like that would lead to:

I went to the cat rescue and got Clamidia.

My wife was lonely so I got Clamidia for her.

I paid $100 to get Clamidia.

Now that we have Clamidia our house feels like a home.

Awesome.

My best guess was that someone thought they were naming her after a flower and were terribly, terribly wrong. Either that or they totally got it and were in the back making jokes like we were:

That last couple looked like they were interested in getting Clamidia.

We could give Clamidia to that old woman!

We finally got rid of our Clamidia.

I would totally adopt that cat and keep her name. I’d call her Clap for short.

As for having the best cat name of all time, Clamidia only has one contender that I’ve heard of, and its tough competition: Roo’s former cat, Poonani.

I could go there, I really could, but I won’t.

You’re welcome.

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What have I agreed to??

When my aunt asked if I would be interested in joining her networking group, every fiber in my body said no, but for some reason, my mouth said yes. My mouth said yes because the photography phone has not been ringing like I would like it to and the idea of a bunch of strangers feeling obligated to refer people to me and/or use my services themselves sounds alright to me. Every other fiber of my body said no because I’m a complete introvert and networking meetings are what I imagine hell to be like. I went to one once and spent most of the time hiding in the bathroom.

Is 11am too early to start drinking? Because I don’t have a prescription for valium or xanax or any of that good stuff and I’m thinking it would definitely help. Also does anyone have any valium or xanax they’d like to share? Kidding… Sort of.

I’ve decided I should definitely practice my elevator speech so I don’t mess it up when I get there. Here’s what I have so far:

Hello, I’m Liz. I shoot people. Maybe you could be next. Thank you.

That’s just a rough draft, I’m open to suggestions.

 

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Turtle Burgers = Night Terrors

I’ve heard people say that eating rich foods before you go to bed can give you weird dreams, and I definitely think there’s something to that. Last night I had the freakiest flipping nightmare I’ve ever had and what had I eaten that night?

Oh, just a turtle burger.

When my super sexy boyfriend Luke first texted me if I knew what a turtle burger was I was a little…worried. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about and I was afraid to google it for fear the text had stemmed from an inappropriate workplace conversation and they were something horrible akin to “blue waffles” or “lemonade parties” (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T GOOGLE THOSE!). Turns out turtle burgers are perfectly safe to google as long as you’re not a vegetarian.

If you’re not familiar with turtle burgers they’re a seasoned ground beef patty, wrapped in cheddar cheese, wrapped in woven bacon, with cut hotdog limbs. It’s an adorable little heart attack!… Or a terrifying one if you go off of the pic I found on flickr of one and considering the horrifying night I had later.

08 Turkey Bacon Turtle Burger

Turtle burger, you scare the shit out of me…and not just because you’re kinda creepy looking.

Seriously y’all. This was a straight up horror movie. Like Paranormal Activity combined with one of the billion Saw movies (or at least I think, I don’t watch that scary shit!). I woke up at 4:30 in full fight or flight mode, woke super sexy boyfriend Luke up I was clinging to him so desperately, then made him turn on the lights, and then made him check my phone to make sure it wasn’t being controlled by a demon since that was part of the dream. And yes I realize that’s moderately to extremely crazy, but this was some SCARY SHIT!

While truthfully the turtle burger may not have had anything to do with it, it’s not like I’m super stressed or took some seriously hallucinogenic drugs or ate the mushrooms in the yard, the only thing that was different than normal was the turtle burgers. So in the same way that I unconsciously blame Little Smokies wieners for me giving me the flu when I was 9, I blame turtle burgers for this awful dream.

What do you call fear of turtle burgers? Carnechelonaphobia?

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Oh Shiitake!

I’m growing magical mushrooms in my front yard. Not on purpose of course, unless you count grossly neglecting basic lawn care until mushrooms start growing as “on purpose”. I know this because yesterday when I came home from running errands in town I found my 60 year old neighbor from across the cul- da-sac yelling at a stoner kid….in my front yard. Their argument went as follows:

SharonP: THEY’RE PSYCHEDELIC MUSHROOMS!!
Stoner Kid (in the most stoner kid voice you can imagine): they’re not psychedelic, man, they’re totally not!
SharonP: PSYCHEDELIC MUSHROOMS!!1!!ONE!
StonerKid: they’re for my biology class-
SharonP: I’M CALLING THE POLICE!!!

And with that StonerKid got on his bike took his “not psychedelic” mushrooms and got the heck out of there, flipping Sharon and I the bird as he sped away. I was still standing in my driveway blinking in confusion as to what had just happened.

Later Sharon came over to point out my magical mushrooms to me. I ohhed and ahhed and acted very shocked, but the truth is I had actually suspected that they were magical mushrooms when I first saw them the day before. Not because I know what magical mushrooms look like (I can quite honestly say I’m totally clueless with anything drug related and plan to remain so), but because I had heard the entire neighborhood has issues with magical mushrooms growing in the lawns and the trespassing dirty hippies that go along with them.

Truthfully, I find that pretty awesome, not because I’m pro dirty hippy or magical mushroom, but because this is probably the nicest neighborhood in Monroe. People think they’re very fancy living in their fancy boxes made of ticky tacky…and the lawns are infested with magical mushrooms and dirty hippies.

Is it wrong that I kinda want them back? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to EAT them, it’s just on principle! You don’t see me showing up in front of StonerKids house yurt and taking things out of HIS yard whatever it is that hippies have instead of yards, do you?

So I guess my task for tomorrow is to rid my lawn of mushrooms, which should be pretty easy, all I really need to do is mow the lawn, plus a little fungiside I think. The drum circle and sit in are going to be a little tougher to eliminate though, anyone have ideas on that?

PS: Side note this is what I found when I googled “hippie yard” to try to figure out what it is that hippies have instead of yards http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Nocturnal_Hippie_Artist

Awesome. “The Chair Incident” is my favorite part, although I can’t say I remember that happening to me.

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