Perpetually Peeved


The Ancient Art of the Encyclopedia

Have you ever wondered what people did before Google?  Rough morning today.  Forgot my phone.  Oh!  The horror!  How will I ever survive without the ability to Google (at the red lights) the answers to the all the random questions Smalls has?  Think I’m being a baby?  Take this test… how many of these questions do you know the answers to – WITHOUT looking them up?

What is the difference between a porcupine and a hedgehog?

Ew.

Do bees poop?

He's been contemplating it for years now...

Why do viking hats have horns on them?

Only the blue ones.

Do hedgehogs have tails?

Maybe this guy would know.

Do airplanes have batteries?

Why is the sky blue?

Why do girls have to wear high heels to work?

Do we come from dinosaurs?

 

Why won’t God make you give me a puppy?

Hmm…. so, that’s what encyclopedias are for.

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Jr. Peeves

Everyone knows Smalls has a little body and a big personality.  So, what pisses off a 4 year old?  You’d be surprised.

Say what you mean, already!

Smalls’ pre-K class is gathered around for circle time and they start off the activities by playing the alphabet song on the CD player.

Smalls: (sticking fingers in her ears) I am so over this song.

Teacher:  Smalls, what’s the matter?  Why are you sticking your fingers in your ears?

Smalls:  Because, Ms. Teacher, I just don’t get it!

Teacher:  What do you mean “you don’t get it,” Smalls?

Smalls:  Well, I just don’t get it.  Is LMNOP one letter?

Teacher:  No, it’s 5 letters.  (writing on board)  See…  L… M… N… O… P.  Five letters.

Smalls:  Then why do they say it LMNOP, like it’s one letter?

Teacher:  Because it goes with the music of the song.

Smalls: (sticking fingers back in her ears)  Well, that’s just silly.  If it’s five letters, they should have made the music fit five letters!

 

Image from lmnop magazine

 

Never underestimate a four-year-old.

Smalls and my sister-in-law are were walking to the ice cream shop in town the other night.

BabySister: Smalls, you have to hold my hand.

Smalls:  Why, Aunt BabySister?

BabySister:  Because, you know, there are cars on the road and there are strangers…

Smalls:  If I see a stranger, I know what to do.

BabySister:  You do?  What’s your plan?

Smalls:  Well, I would run away as fast I can and I would climb a tree and I would hang upside down like a sloth and then they wouldn’t even know what to do!

BabySister:  Hmm… good plan.

 

photo courtesy of brazilianfauna.com

 

Don’t try to label me.

Driving home from work on our nightly commute together, I usually ask Smalls about her day…

Peeved:  So, what did you do today?

Smalls:  We learned about animal doctors.

Peeved:  Oh, that’s fun.  Would you like to be an animal doctor when you grow up?

Smalls:  No, when I grow up, I’m going to be Smalls.

Peeved:  No, I mean, what do you want to do as your job when you get older, Smalls?

Smalls:  Job?  I don’t want to WORK!

Peeved:  Well, most people have to work.  If you have to work, what would you want to do.

Smalls:  I want to be a colorer and a painter… NOT an “artist”!

Peeved:  Well, good.  Because being an artist isn’t a job anyway.

 

photo of a Pollack from ibiblio.org

 

Are you there God?  It’s me, Smalls.

Smalls:  Mommy…  God makes everything, right?

Peeved:  Yes, honey, God made everything in the world.

Smalls:  Then, why did God make me a human?

Peeved:  Because, you were a gift to mommy and daddy and we are humans.

Smalls:  But, I really wanted to be a cheetah!  I didn’t ask to be a human!

Peeved:  Well, I’m sorry honey.  That’s how God made you.

(silence for about 3 minutes…)

Smalls:   Mommy… God is in heaven, right?

Peeved:  Right.

Smalls:  And when you say prayers, they go up to heaven, right?

Peeved:  Yes.

Smalls:  And God is supposed to hear your prayers and answer them, right?

Peeved:  Yes.

Smalls:  (tearing up and whining) Well, then, how come every night I pray that I will wake up as a cheetah and every morning I’m still a stinky human!??

Peeved: Um… (stifling laughter)

kids courtesy of Peeved, cheetah courtesy of... God?



The Wanderer

Conferences are good for three things: free food and drinks, free vendor goodies, and blog fodder. Really, folks, I’m getting some good stuff for you here. What sucks most about conferences? There are a lot of people, all in one place, and they all want to talk to you about the weather. Um, we’re in San Diego. It’s beautiful. Good talk.

Have you ever tried to talk to someone with a wonky eye? You know, when one eye is looking at you and the other is looking just a little to the left? Disconcerting, right? Especially when they switch halfway through and you’re left wondering if you were looking at the right eye the whole time. At least they have a physical defect. I mean, it’s not like they can help it. You just have to look right between their eyes and hightail it out if there as soon as possible.

Barring physical defect, there is no good reason not to look someone in the eye when you’re speaking with them.

(I’m blogging from the train on my iPhone… That’s all I got, sorry)

*****
[yesterday, at the conference]

The Wanderer: So, where are you from? (looking at a spot somewhere in between over-my-shoulder and my left boob)

Peeved: The southeast. (Oh my god, do I have dandruff?) And, you? (discreetly brushing off my shoulder)

The Wanderer: Oh, the Northeast. (Not even a flicker of eye contact.)

Peeved: Oh, they were supposed to get snow today. (A booger in my nose? An Alphalpha hair or two? Did I write on myself with pen again?)

The Wanderer: Yep, they did. Sure glad I’m in San Diego. (still staring)

Peeved: Yeah, the weather sure is beautiful. (My bra strap showing? Something in my teeth? Slunch dripped down my suit? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT LADY?????!!!!!)

The Wanderer: Yep, beautiful. (I don’t think she’s even blinked.)

Peeved: Well, nice to meet you…(Shuffling off to the bathroom where I was sure I would see a tiny twin growing out of my left collar bone.)

*****
Seriously. The shit we put up with for some free swag.



Wednesday “What the…?”

Yesterday was full of weird stuff I didn’t have pictures of.  Today, I’ve got proof.  It’s the weird, wacky, wondrous, Wednesday “What the…?” – Enjoy, folks.

1.  What the… are you trying to say?

That might be hard to read, let me tell you what it says.

          XXXXXXXX@YAHOO.COM

          Is this a valid email address for you (for your protection, the email address has been partially masked)?

Um, there is no X in my email address.  So, by partially masked do you mean completely obscured?  WTF Your Security Levels Are So High You Even Tell Me I Got My Father’s Middle Name Wrong On The Security Questions?

2.  What the… are you wearing?

Have you ever been going through old photographs and come across something that makes you go WTF?  Well, here’s a classic case.  Even Smalls is trying to figure out what’s going on there.  I guess stereotypes have to come from somewhere.  WTF Mr. I Buy My Outfits Out Of a Catalog Called DING!DING!DING!?

3.  What the… is that?

I sure hope they’re paying you.  WTF Hello Krazy Kitty?

4.  What the… kind of school do you go to?

(driving home from school yesterday)

Biggie:  Aren’t you going to ask me what new Connections (this is a fancy word for electives) I got today.

Peeved:  Sure, but the last 3 times I asked you, you told me you didn’t know yet and to stop asking you.

Biggie: Well, I got Music Appreciation and Family and Consumer Science.

Peeved:  Family and Consumer Science?  That sounds cool.  What’s that?  Budgets and stuff?

Biggie:  No.  You cook stuff and you get to carry around an egg and stuff and, like, pretend it’s a baby.  It’s really cool.

Peeved:  You mean you got Home Ec.

Biggie:  No, it’s called Family and Consumer Science.  Home Ec is, like, when they teach you budgets and stuff.  They don’t call it that anymore, Mom.

Peeved:  Family and Consumer Science?

Biggie:  Yes.

Peeved:  Where’s the science in it?

Biggie:  Cooking is science.  And, so is having babies.

Peeved:  Sounds like Home Ec to me.

Why does everything have to have a fancy name now?  It’s no longer English, it’s Language Arts.  It’s not Gym, it’s Exercise Science.  WTF Fancy Pants School – Why Don’t You Try Teaching Them How Eggs Get Fertilized Now That You’re Calling It Science?

5.  What the… kind of backwater town are you from?

 
 

This is what you get when you cross a mullet with a helmet bang.

 

 When wearing flip-flops with pants and no pedicure is the least offensive thing you’ve got going on, you’ve got issues.  WTF Ms. I’m So Country Even My Hairdo Is Inbred?

6.  What the… is wrong with you?

Some days, I wish I had one of those jobs that don’t do random drug testing.  You know, like pizza delivery guy, waiter, Xfinity writer, garbage man.  Either someone likes to wake and bake, or they have a sick sense of humor.  WTF Is Afroman Doing As My Garbageman?

I’ve got $50 that says the owner of the gold Toyota would, in fact, jump off a bridge if all of his friends did first.  WTF Doublemint Douches?



Well, You Don’t See THAT Every Day…

Our first Halloween together, Mr. Peeved and I dressed up as Elvis and a showgirl. 

Yes, I made both costumes and I vowed never to iron a tiny metal dot onto polyester again.

The costumes were a hit and Elvis lives on to this day in the form of an employee who has “borrowed” it and keeps finding occasions in which he needs to wear it in to work.  I digress.  Later that same year, it came time for Mr. Peeved’s place of employment’s annual employee appreciation party.  Each year, these parties have a theme and everyone goes all out.  Apparently, that particular year, our Halloween costumes inspired a Casino Night theme.  Everyone kept telling us we had to wear our costumes again.  And, we did.

*****

(driving in the car in comfortable silence… until…)

Peeved:  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA….

Mr. Peeved:  No way.

Peeved:  You don’t even know what I’m laughing about.

Mr. Peeved:  Of course I do.  No way.

Peeved:  Okay.  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Please?

Mr. Peeved:  No.  Forget it.

Peeved:  Okay, but it would have been damn funny.

*****

(later that week, shopping in the maternity section of Target for an XL black tank top)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Mother of a Toddler: Honey, stay over here by mommy, sweetie.

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

*****

(putting mascara and lipstick on Mr. Peeved at the hotel room)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

(putting a long blonde wig on Mr. Peeved at the hotel room)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

(putting bobby pins with disco beads and feathers glued on them onto Mr. Peeved mandals at the hotel room)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

(putting feather butt boa skirt on Mr. Peeved at the hotel room)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

(walking out into the hotel corridor dressed as Elvis and holding Mr. Peeved’s hand)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

Male half of little old Jewish couple walking towards us: (turning to wife) Well, you don’t see that every day!

Little old Jewish wife: Hmmpf.

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

(walking through the lobby of the hotel with Mr. Peeved sashaying around his feather frocked butt)

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

One of the two big meatheads at the check-in counter:  (while simultaneously smacking his counterpart on the shoulder to get his attention)  Ah, Shiiiii…..

Peeved: BWAHAHAHAHA!!

Mr. Peeved:  Hi, Sugar!

Seriously, this guy will wear the costume anywhere.

The point of this story, you ask?  Well, today I encountered more than a few things that were borderline bizarre.  However, like the old Jewish couple and the meatheads, I didn’t have a camera handy to snap a shot.  So, in no particular order, here are the weirdo things I saw on my way home today:

  • A bischon frise wearing sunglasses.  Not shades that a vet would give you if you had eye issues, but full-on, designer-looking sunglasses.  His owner had a matching pair.
  • A Christmas tree lot.
  • A man brushing his teeth while driving his car.
  • A sign at the adult “toy” store advertising a “BLOW-OUT” sale on videos.
  • A man playing air drums… while riding a bike… without headphones in.


Come as you’re not

Halloween is one of my favorite times of year.  I love getting dressed up.  This year, for whatever reason, I wasn’t feeling very inspired.  Maybe it’s that I’m busy sewing nine costumes (I can’t say no), or that I recently dyed my hair dark brown (I usually go as a famous red-head).  Yesterday, my luck turned.  I was invited to a “Come as You’re Not” party.  Now, from what I’ve heard this is a popular theme for sorority parties, but it was the first I’d ever heard of it.  Maybe because the thought of wearing pearls and various accessories adorned with greek letters makes me cringe.  I digress. 

Now my problem is, I’m over-inspired.  Here are the myriad ideas I’ve come up with – help me pick one?  Or, suggest your own?

I am not a mindreader. (scrapetv.com)

I am not an optimist. (nittanybeaglerescue.org)

I am not one to hold my tongue. (scrapetv.com)

I am not a doormat. (But, if I was, I'd be this one.) (roadsidescholar.com)

I am not your maid. (halloweencostume.com)

I am not 'cho cheese. (costumesbycameron.com)

I am NSFW. (designboom.com)

I would not be caught dead wearing a pink velour tracksuit. (chicthreadz.com and myspace.com)

I am not on par. (spectrum2105.com)

I am not sweet. (halloweencos.com)

I am not afraid. (flickr: elrina753)

I am not balanced (a/k/a unbalanced). (costumezone.com)

I am not special. (I can't even believe you thought I was going to make fun of the mentally handicapped - what is wrong with you?) (nydailynews.com)

I am not NOT funny. (Or, maybe after that last one you think I am?) (imeanwhat.com)

So, what’s your vote or suggestion?



10 things I learned from camping…

1.  Ants bite.  

Upon our arrival to the campground, Mr. Peeved set about getting a fire started, Biggie grabbed her chair and fishing pole (coordinating colors, of course) and headed to the “beach,” Smalls found the nearest downed tree and started to climb all over it, and I set about unloading the car and hauling all our stuff 50 feet down a 45 degree slope covered in loose rocks.  Just as I was taking my third slide down the hill with provisions, I hear an ear-piercing screech.  Smalls, who was playing nicely by herself (this should have been the first warning sign something bad would happen) had been bitten by ants.  

Smalls:   EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  

Peeved:  Okay, Smalls, let me see. It can’t be that bad.  It will be fine, I’ll kiss it.  

Mr. Peeved:  It’s an ant bite.  Those are the worst.  They hurt like hell.  

Smalls:   EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  

Peeved:  It’s okay.  It will be fine.  That’s not an ant bite – it’s not a little white bubble.  It looks just like a mosquito bite.  

Mr. Peeved:  It’s not a red ant bite, it’s a regular ant bite.  Those are worse.  

Smalls:   EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  I got bit by an ant!!  EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!   It hurts worse than a red ant bite!!!  

Peeved:  Maybe that’s not helping, Mr. Peeved.  Smalls, mommy has lotion, let me put some lotion on it.  

Mr. Peeved:  That’s not going to work.  Do you have that after-bite stuff?  

Peeved:  No, I have bug spray, sunblock and lotion.  

Smalls:   EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I need the bite stuff!  

Mr. Peeved:  We are going to have to cancel the trip if you don’t fix it.  Don’t bother putting up the tent yet.  Can you go to the store and see if they have that stuff?  

Smalls:   EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I want to go home!  I hate camping!  EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!   

Well, something tells me this has happened before because the campsite store was fully stocked with after bite lotion.  A few dabs of that, an hour of coddling and a Coca-Cola later, Smalls was off fishing with her sister.  I put up the tents, inflated the air mattresses, put out the chairs and lost 3 pounds of water weight while Mr. Peeved made the most perfect camp fire, ever (or at least, that’s what I’m told).   

2.  It’s all fun and games until you run out of clean clothes and marshmallows.  

This cartoon and a bunch of other totally awesome cartoons can be found on this site: http://www.nataliedee.com. Think I found a new source of entertainment!

Around 7:30 pm on the day of our arrival, we were almost out of marshmallows and, aside from pajamas, almost completely out of clean clothes.  Apparently, after bite and Coca-Cola don’t do much to improve a nap-missing 4-year-old’s disposition.  Smalls spent most of the afternoon throwing rocks at the ducks and stomping off into the woods when we tried to talk to her.  Finally, when the first signs of dusk started settling in, we decided it was time for the kiddo to hit the air mattress for the night.  Smalls melted down faster than a marshmallow hit by a blow torch.   

Smalls:  I don’t want a smores pie!  I don’t like graham crackers!  I don’t want just marshmallows!  I just want marshmallows and chocolate!  No, not like that!  I want marshmallows and melted chocolate, but no bread or crackers!  Mommy!  Biggie is eating my smores pie!!!!  WaaaaaaaaawaaaaaaaWaaaaawaaaa!   

Squirrels scurried off like roaches when you turn on the light.  Nature wants nothing to do with a whiny, screaming preschooler and neither do I.  So, I do what any resourceful mother would do – fling her over my shoulder, strap her in the car and try to drive around until she falls asleep.  

Smalls:  You left Biggie and Daddy! They’re all alone!  Turn around! Turn around!  You can’t leave them!  

Peeved:  I wonder if the campsite store has Benadryll…  

Smalls:  Hey, maybe they have marshmallow and chocolate ice cream.    

3.  Tents were invented by the Department of Torture.  

They make it look so easy.... (www.coleman.com)

4.  The ability to fish is not genetic.  

spicy, crispy minnows... who knew?allthaicooking.com

The only time I ever caught a fish growing up was when I was sitting on the dock and got up to move farther down the way.  Completely coincidentally, just as I stood up, a fish bit my line and I “caught” it.  Yes, we can add fishing to the long list of things I’m not good at – right after cooking and just before passing driving tests.  Biggie did not inherit this gene.  She caught six fish.  Granted, they were all slightly larger than minnows, but still it was quite an accomplishment given her DNA.   

One would think that the children would want to throw the poor little fishes that were too small to eat back into the lake.  Not my kids.  

Mr. Peeved:  Okay, we have to let them go now.  

Biggie:  No!  You said we could eat what we caught!  

Mr. Peeved:  There is no meat on this fish, Biggie.  

Smalls:  Daddy!  You said we could eat them!  I wanted to cut its head off!  

Biggie:  Yeah, and I was going to gut it!  

Guess you could say the kids like to eat.  That, they may have gotten from their mother.  

5.  Everything tastes better with white bread.  

Next time you go camping, buy yourself one of these babies! vtarmynavy.com

Smores pies, ham & cheese pies, salami & cheese pies, steak & egg pies, cherry pies, pizza pies…. I could go on in the spirit of Bubba Gump all day.  

6.  It’s okay to ban technology for two days.  

  

I turned off my iphone for two whole days.  Guess what?  No one suffered except my ego.  Apparently, I’m NOT that important.  

7.  The firmness of an air mattress is directly proportional to the heftiness of your bed mate.  

What this picture doesn’t show is the way the poor lady gets catapulted to the other side of the tent when her husband climbs on to the air mattress.  What it also fails to capture is the way her ass goes slamming into the ground in the morning when he gets up to pee.  

8.  Children who can’t read also have trouble listening. 

 

There were “no swimming” signs posted all along the shore of the lake.  This, of course, meant nothing to Smalls because unlike those phonetics phenoms you see on the TV at 6 in the morning, she can’t read.  Apparently, reading and listening go hand in hand.  I told Smalls she was not allowed to go in the lake unless she wore her water shoes, rolled up her pants and stayed on the opposite side from where her sister was fishing.  I may as well have written it on a sign for all that she paid attention to me. 

Smalls:  [skipping barefoot in the “fishing section” of the lake with her pants soaked up to her underwear]  What, mommy?  I didn’t hear you. 

Peeved:  Smalls, I said it five times.  Put your listening ears on. 

Smalls:  Oh, sorry.  What did you say?  la la la…. [skipping barefoot in the “fishing section” of the lake with her pants soaked up to her underwear]  

9.  Nothing makes a 12-year-old happy. 

Peeved:  C’mon Biggie, we’re going exploring. 

Biggie:  Ugh, I don’t want to go.  I’m busy.  I’m fishing here, mom. 

Peeved:  Okay, stay here.  We’re going to the campsite store.  Smalls, you want to see if they have ice cream? 

Smalls:  Let’s go! 

Biggie:  Gosh, you guys can’t even wait for me to get my shoes on?  You’re so rude! 

***** 

Biggie:  Is that a pool?  Is it open? 

Peeved:  Yes, but I didn’t know it was here, so you don’t have a bathing suit. 

Biggie:  I can’t believe you forgot our bathing suits. 

***** 

Biggie:  Oh my gosh!  They have slushies.  Mom, can I have a slushie? 

Peeved:  Sure, but that’s it.  One treat.  Either ice cream or slushie. 

Biggie:  Okay, thanks mom. 

Peeved:  You’re welcome. 

Biggie: [sipping on slushie at check out stand]  Oh!  Mom!  They have sour straws!  Please, please, please? 

Peeved:  No, Biggie.  You got your treat. 

Biggie:  Come on!  You are so mean! 

**** 

[pout, moan, whine, repeat x5] 

**** 

[checking out at the campsite store later that night] 

Peeved:  Mr. Peeved, can you get those sour straws for the girls for the ride home, please? 

Mr. Peeved:  Sure. 

Biggie:  Yay!  Sour straws. 

Smalls:  Sour straws! 

Biggie:  I am not sharing with her. 

Peeved:  Yes, you are. 

***** 

[chomp, chomp, gobble, gobble for all of about 5 seconds] 

Peeved:  Are you done with those already? 

Biggie:  Yes, because I had to share them.  And, I can’t believe you didn’t bring our bathing suits! 

10.  You should always unpack your camping gear immediately after arriving home. 

 

 

This was on the ceiling of my car this morning.  Good thing I’m not a complete arachnaphobe!  I have a good friend that’s probably doing the heeby-jeeby dance just looking at it (hey – you made the blog!).  Smalls thought it was “cute” and wanted to name her Charlotte.  I guess it’s better than a gerbil or a dog…




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