What are you here for?

Ever seen the Blue Collar Comedy tour? Well if you have, you're familiar with the phrase, "Here's your sign!" Seriously I think I have at least a few of those kind of moments every day. But this one was blog worthy.

Me and the hubs are in the process of mattress shopping. So we went to Sit-n-Sleep, a mattress store, naturally. We walk in and are greeted by the sales guy whose first words, very cheerfully I might add, following his greeting is, "So, what are you here for?". Without missing a beat my husband says, "We're looking to buy a new car." bahahahahhahaaaaaaa
HERE'S YOUR SIGN!

I realize the salesman's question was probably more geared toward "what type of mattress are you looking for", but it doesn't take away from how dumb he sounded. haha

ACCESS DENIED!

Not sure if all of you in the work place have experienced internet blocks for websites deemed inappropriate, but my work does. The way it works is if you type in key words, like porn or boobs, a screen will pop up and indicate: ACCESS DENIED!
And then it indicates the catergory it falls under, like Pornography.
So I'm on my way to work and a rock hits my freakin windshield. I'm barely going 35 and so is the vehicle in front of me which apparently kicks up a rock that put a bulls eye the size of a penny on my winshield. So right after I crapped my pants (because the impact was so shockingly loud I jumped), I say to myself, "great, now I gotta have it repaired before it spreads." I get to work and google "windshield crack repair". To my dismay, up pops "ACCESS DENIED!"... categorized under Illegal Drugs. Huh. Really?
Maybe it's protocol to just set these internet barriers to a list of words associated with bad things, which is probably the case. But it begs the question, why? Are there really people stupid enough to look up things at work that could implicate them in illegal situations that would result in arrest? Apparently so. So FYI... be leary about the person sitting next to you at work. They could be a drug dealer.

Ohhh, she said LIKE! Well that clears it all up.

So I'm sitting in Young Womens class at church (a sunday school type class for girls ages 12-18) and we asked them about their 4th of July celebrations. We have sisters in there that don't always see eye to eye, one is 13 the other 17. The 13 year old says, "we stayed up till like midnight doing fireworks." And then her sister smugly/accusingly corrected her, "no, you guys went to bed at 11:30." And then the 13 year old very seriously/smugly corrected her... " I said like! (emphasis on LIKE with a very much "duh" tone in her voice)." It was your average sibling bickering, but I found it hysterical. And also found it enlightening. To think that I've been understanding conversations wrong all this time. Wonder how well that would go over with my boss...
"MB, I thought you said these numbers were good to go."
"I said they were like good to go." Duh.

Crazzy's Wasewagan

So this last week I spent up in Big Bear at girls camp as a "cabin mom" (although all my girls thought I was a Laurel (the 17-18 year olds) :). We went to a campground named "Crazzy's Wasewagan". The camp was built in the 30's and though much of it has been restored, it still had some spooky looking parts. Like this little shack, maybe about the size of a king size mattress in square footage, and just tall enough for me to stand up in. The whole top half was open and lined with screen material and had tattered green material hanging around the inside as make-shift drapes. The door had no knob, just a latch with a stick through it to keep it closed. (I would have taken a pic if my camera battery wasn't dead :P) And then behind the mess hall, there was a peculiar looking concrete mound with a door on it high enough for people to walk in. I'm guessing it was some sort of storage room, but looked eerily similar to the huge hearth in Hansel and Gretel that the witch cooked the kids in. So naturally my head started flowing with scary stories and between me and my friend Erin (another cabin mom), the story got pretty out of control quick, to our delight. I mean with things like described, the story practically writes itself. I had the 13 year olds in my cabin, and Erin had the 12 year olds in hers. She managed to tell the story the first night, and then it spread through camp the next day. I tried to tell it to my girls the next night, but every time I tried, they would scream NOOO, and would start singing "I am a Child of God." LOL...hysterical. Why so scared? Well let me tell you the story of the crazy bum named Lazy Eye Jenkins that used to roam these parts not so long ago...

(stay tuned for the story....)

Maturity Leave?

I've heard of military leave, maternity leave, personal leave...but maturity leave? That's a new one. The thought came from an email at work where the author of the email was inquiring about someones maternity leave, but spelled it wrong, giving the impression this individual is on a maturity leave. LOL... I can think of a few people off the top of my head that would benefit from such a leave....
hahaha

Perves Pardise

So I had the opportunity to spend a girls day out at Glen Ivy in Corona yesterday. While the day was full of fun and relaxation and some much needed girl time, I couldn't help but notice the number of men there. Granted the ratio of men there was probably less than 10%, but still that's kind of a lot for a place I'd consider "girly". Seriously, at one point there I am with my sister-n-law and mother-n-law sitting in the mineral spa when 6 gangley men invade the very same spa. Than came an involuntary and awkard conversation my sister-n-law had with one of the men where he asked about her unpainted fingernails and stated that all women should have them painted and then asked about her toes. As if that wasn't icky enough, he then kinda tapped her leg (mind you we're in swimsuits) and said, "don't worry, I won't bite." Needless to say we moved onto a different area.
I realize it's open to both genders, but I was really surprised to see so many flock to a place that most men I know see as a pointless place to hang out. So I asked myself, why? Why would these men pay 40 bucks to hang out at a pool all day. Yes we're in a day in age when the metro sexual man has...come out of the closet (or what have you), but these are NOT metro sexual men. They're frumpy old farts! And then it hit me all at once...it's a Perves Paradise.
Let's put it in perspective...
1) These days, seeing a man at a spa all day no longer labels him as gay thanks to the metro sexual man.
2) There's TONS OF PRACTICALLY NAKED WOMEN ALL AROUND AND BARELY ANY MEN.
3) Too many men at more public places that are free, like the beach.
4) Where else can a man go to casually oogle all day? And if called out on it his rebuttle would be something like, "well I don't know about you, but I paid $40 to relax. Why would I pay $40 to oogle when I can oogle anywhere else for free?" Please see point 2 and 3 sir. Not to mention, sir, many of your kind pay who knows what to get a girl to dance in your lap. Couldn't you also get that somewhere else for free?

Anyway, it sure would be nice if a place like that limited men to just a couple days a week so women can plan their spa days around those days. I went to relax, and did so, but still couldn't help but feel self conscious because of those men there. And they were oogling...

Really?

Why is that when you're trying to tell a story and then mention someone that's "older" than you, some people have to ask, "well what's older?" with a bit of a scoff in their voice. Like they're trying to be sarcastic, but there's that subtle hint of them being offended. Like heaven forbid someone is older than me.
Next time someone older than me tells a story about someone being "younger" than they are, I'll be sure to scoff in a sarcastic, but slightly offended manner. Wonder what kind of reaction I would get...

Are you Cold? Nope.

Like many women, I'm chronically cold. I could be in bed, have 5 blankets piled high, begging my husband to roll over to help me get warm. To which he rolls over, only to roll back complaining that I'm a furnace...to which I reply, "well then my bones must still be cold cause I'm freezing!"

Even as I type this my fingers are frozen from the freakin AC that blows nonstop in my cubicle. Yeah, it's like 80 out today, beautiful and sunny. But I'm indoors sitting in the Artic Circle. So my usual work attire consists of sweaters, jackets, and mittens with finger cut outs (so I can still type but keep these phalanges warm!).

So why is it that people will ask me if I'm cold?? I mean, I realize I'm wearing a jacket, but are my lips purple and my teeth chattering...? My usual reply to them is a simple, "no." And then they look at me like I'm the crazy one. I have a jacket on people.
Last I checked, jacket = warm, not cold.
I'm just sayin..

In case you missed this on my Facebook...

I just had to post this here too! It's too funny to not share with everyone.


Holy histerical! If you need a little "pick me up" and a good laugh, check out this link. It's a wolf t-shirt being sold on Amazon. It was in Yahoo news as somehow being one of their top selling items. The link below takes you directly to the comments people have left and I DIED of laughter. Granted I'm sure most are not truly genuine comments, but they are HILARIOUS! Make sure you look at pics of the shirt first!

http://www.amazon.com/Three-T-Shirt-Available-Various-Sizes/product-reviews/B000NZW3IY/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1

Going back Public

So, I've decided to take this puppy back public. Why deny the world the goodness of all things Ridonkulous? I've taken some of the personal aspects out, like pictures and posts about family stuff and just keeping the blog for amusement purposes. So feel free to pass it along to your friends for an occasional laugh.

Milk and Cookies

Milk and Cookies..mmmm... you know what I'm talking about. They just compliment each other so well. I can't think of two things that go together better. So last week I realized two things: 1) I can't stand it when someone else dips their cookies in MY milk, and 2) I coined a new phrase.

One day last week I had some of my in-laws over. So I made super delicious cake batter cookies, which were quite the crowd pleaser I might add. Now before I continue, two things you should know about me...1) I don't share milk from my cup. I can share any other beverage in a cup, but for whatever reason, milk is a no-go for me. Don't know why. 2) I'm not a cookie dipper. I like to eat my cookie and chase it with milk. I don't like the cookie messing up the milk with all it's nernies and how it makes the milk taste like cookie.

Moving on. So I've got everyone's cookies served and finally sit to enjoy their deliciousness with a glass of milk. As I'm eating, out of nowhere comes Nate (the hubs) with a drive-by dip into MY MILK!! WTFreak??? Whoooaaa buddy... where do you get off thinking that was remotely a good idea?? I mean, I know we never had an official sit down to discuss cookie eating ettiquette, but really? Who does that? Freakin Nate. You get a free pass this time pal, but next time there will be forks flying!

So the positive I took from this experience is a new phrase I coined (or at least I've never heard it before). Anytime you need someone to mind their own business or whatever, but can't find the words, feel free to say... "don't go dippin' your cookies in my milk!"

But you gotta use it with a little bit of a ghetto accent to really get your point across.

El Pollo Loco - crazy chicken or just crazy?

A friend of mine and I decided to dine at the local El Pollo Loco last Friday in an attempt at a healthy alternative for food. Not remotely a preferred place of mine to dine, but Subway was getting old.

So I ordered the skinless chicken breast meal as seen in my receipt I posted here. Now as your peruse the receipt, did you happen to notice the customer name toward the bottom? To think I've been spelling my name wrong all these years. No wonder I had to repeat my name three times for her to hammer it out.

Then my meal came. Now, I don't claim to be ridiculously smart, but I would have thought purchasing a skinless chicken breast implied there would be no skin. I guess I was out smarted again by the employees of El Pollo Loco. So I was left to pick off that nastiness myself. Nasty.

And then the mother of all nastiness. As I'm finishing up my meal, something caught my eye just to the left of my friends shoulder who was sitting in front of a window. Perched on the window sill was a very dead monster size furry moth. We're talking inches away from my friend, on the inside of the restaurants window sill. It was DISGUSTING!! Thank goodness I was already pretty much done with my food cause that right there would have done me in. I think I just vurped.