Friday, July 30, 2010

Politically INCORRECT

An old co-worker of mine, who happened to be from China became known around her satellite office for dropping the stinkiest farts you have ever smelled.  And the worst part was she never acknowledged it.  It just happened every single day.  Of course this became the subject of some pretty serious gossip and jokes at her expense. 

It got so bad they felt something had to be done, but not sure how best to handle the problem, they approached their manager.  He scolded them for being offended, and screamed, "THAT IS HER CULTURE!"

Ummm...I don't think so.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Once you Plop, You Can't Stop

On a vacation, a friend of mine (not Summer and not Teri) lamented that her body somehow knows she's not at home, and therefore she's completely unable to poop.

Days went by.  Nothing. 

Finally, we were sitting in the hotel room and she perked up.  "I think it's time!" She exclaimed, and ran into the bathroom.

Not 25 seconds later, she was flushed, hands washed, and sitting back on the bed. 

"I'm sorry", we all said.

She looked confused.  "Nope, 'Pringles Can'."

It was magical.  In no time at all.  A Pringles Can.

Oh, Hilarious Tampons

One of my very favorite tricks:  When somebody asks me to borrow a mint, or chapstick, or a pen...I hand them a tampon instead and wait for their reaction once they have it in their hand and figure out what it is.

Tonight's Doofass Story -- Straight out of the Lodge

You know the old trick, where you loosen the top of the salt shaker so some unknown future stranger gets a hilarious surprise?

Tonight, I did that to MYSELF with the carmel sauce.  Allow me to explain:

I was making a carmel ice cream sundae.  There are two kinds of carmel in our fridge.  Ice cream sundae  carmel that squirts like chocolate sauce, and then this stripe-making carmel designed so you can decorate the plate of a piece of cheesecake.  I wanted fast-squirt action, so I chose the former.  You squirt carmel in the bottom of the dish, then do a scoopy of ice cream and then cover that scoopy in carmel and do another scoop, followed by more carmel, then whipped cream and a cherry on top.

I ran out of the fast-squirt action stuff after the first squirt.  Now I had to use the stripe stuff and it wasn't coming out very fast.  So with all of my might and both palms I PUSHED and SQUEEZED it but still the carmel wasn't coming out fast enough for me.  So I unscrewed the top, poured a little bit on and then finished the last scoopy.  Time to cover it again with carmel.  I forgot I had loosened and then not tightened the top, and then proceeded to PUSH and SQUEEZE it with both palms, dumping the entire contents of the carmel sauce container onto this poor dude's sundae.

Of course it happened in front of the more experienced waitress who had already chided me Friday night for starting a fire in the microwave.  Also I washed too many napkins and she had to re-wash them because there were too many in the load to actually get clean.  And then I sort of purposely made it so she had to wait on three very drunk people. 

Saturday, July 24, 2010

What, you Can't Microwave Metal?

A couple nights a week I wait tables and bartend at a local resort lodge.  I used to think I was a smart cookie, back when I worked in an office cubicle.  But that's because we didn't have to know things like:
1) It's not OK to pick up the 468 degree dishes out of the dishwasher with a towel, so as not to burn your hand.  Unsanitary.
2) Bars close at 1AM.  It's not OK to stay open after that, even if your customers insist.
3) People under 21 are not allowed to drink, and so you should really confirm people's age by asking to see their identification.
4) You really can't carry that much stuff in your arms or you're going to drop it in front of everybody.
          4b) It's easier to bring a tub and clear the table than it is to clear it one dish at a time.
5) You not only have to clock in when you get to work, you have to clock out when you're done.
6) Pork tenderloin comes with cream sauce, and if the cook forgets the sauce, you should remind him to put it on there because people notice missing sauce.
7) Don't walkie talkie the owner to come here, without telling him why.

See what I mean?  Lots to know.  Don't get me started on the use of the register.

Tonight, a table of two arrived before I was completely ready for them, and I noticed that the buns in the warmer were still frozen.  WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO???  Oh right, we have a microwave.  Crisis averted.  The more experienced waitress told me to just throw the whole ziplock baggie (filled with six dinner rolls) into the microwave for like 20 seconds.  But, she didn't realize that I won't microwave plastic, and also I really only needed two rolls.  So I took the bread basket, wrapped up the two necessary rolls in the cloth napkin that goes in the bread basket, and chucked the whole thing in the microwave and patted myself on the back for being so SMART.  These buns would be ready to bring to the table when the 20 seconds were up.

As I stood there in front of the microwave, I rolled my eyes at the faulty equipment.  Lights were flashing on and off inside.  Sparking, almost.  "Crappy microwave," I muttered under my breath.  Then I saw a flame. 

And then it dawned on me.  Apparently there is metal in the bread basket.  I almost burned down the Lodge, folks.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

My Mom, My Dad and I Watched "The Blind Side"

This was one of the boot-legged DVDs I picked up in Vietnam.  For $1.  It was the one that Summer and I just couldn't get around to watching.  We watched the other seven DVDs I bought and this was the very. Last. One.  And then I watched it a second time with my parents tonight.

You know that scene, where Michael Oher graduates high school, and Leigh Anne acts all nonchalant, dismisses him and then goes back to the car?  And then Michael Oher doesn't put up with that crap and goes back to the car to get a 'proper hug'?  Well my dad started crying.  Yes.  The mountain man cries.

Here is our actual conversation:

ME:   "Dad, why are you crying?"

DAD:  "It's everything I'm missing in life." *smirks*
ME:  "What?"

DAD:  "A loving family."  *smirks*

ME:  "Shut up!  I love you.  Now give me a 'proper hug'."

DAD:  "What?  The last one?  The very last hug?  If I told you to go to Ole' Miss, would you?  If I told you not to go to Bree-zil, would you not go to Bree-zil?  So you don't end up in some moss-eaten grave in some cave-mountain?"

Deep down, I know he loves me.  One day I tried to force him to say it.  You know, "I love you".  The best I got, was:

"You know I do.  I don't need to say it all the time."

Dreaming 'Bout Celebs

Last night I dreamed that Jennifer Anniston needed help with changing a light bulb on her ceiling fan.  I knew my mom was really good at that and so I recommended her services.  Then Brad Pitt showed up.  (Odd, since I thought I was on team Angelina).

In a subsequent dream, I told Johnny Depp about the Jennifer Aniston dream.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Muprhy speaks

My nephew Murphy doesn't talk much, except to maybe identify items or repeat something you already said.  The other night I woke up so mad at myself because in my dream he was speaking to me in full sentences and I kept falling asleep while he was trying to talk to me.  In the dream I knew I would be mad at myself because it was such a monumental occurence, but I was SO tired.  And then I woke up and thought it was true.  Very sad.


Today, I said, "hey Murphy, how 'bout we get you changed out of your pajamas, and then how 'bout we go uptown and buy you a pool?!?"

He replied, clear as day, "How 'bout we don't?"

Monday, July 19, 2010

It Takes one to Know One

Tonight, I couldn't BELIEVE that the Masters' Degree scientist (who called himself simply a 'Swim Coach' so as not to put a target on his back) on Big Brother was 'hooking up' with a stupid VIP Cocktail Waitress!!  Then I remembered I'M a waitress.

Which reminds me...

The other day, my dad and I were doing the usual, you know, taking off the tire on the four-wheeler trying to determine why it was flat and where the leaky hole was.  We ended up bringing it down to the river to submerge it and look for bubbles.  The usual, right?  Yes.  Anyways we got back to the garage and heard on the radio that Border State Bank in International Falls was having an ice cream social on such-and-such-a-date at such-and-such-a-time.  We both realized that date and time was in ten minutes!  So we grabbed Murphy and zipped on into town and got our free ice cream.

Now, when we got there, my dad noticed all the people.  He leaned to me and muttered, not quite under his breath: "Freeloaders."

"Hello? Kettle, this is Pot.  You're black."

Saturday, July 17, 2010

My Dad Calls my mom "Mother"... in, "Better grab them scissors, Mother, the hair in my ears is getting pretty long."

Friday, July 16, 2010

The Events Surrounding my Birth

Me: "Dad, do you suppose you were more excited about getting this job than you were to have a baby that same day?"

Dad: "I'm sure."

Me: "UGH."

Dad: "Well, I was used to having babies.  I wasn't used to getting hired by the Federal Government."

Apparently that wolf-trapping job had my dad away from home quite a bit. I found per diem refund receipts that show him leaving for a week or weeks at a time to check traps. He told me that one day he came home from a stretch away. I was very tiny, but old enough to be standing at the door when he arrived. I looked at him, like very nervously, and my mom said, "that's your daddy. Go say hi!" (He probably had grown a long beard and I didn't recognize him.) He says I walked right up to him, turned around and sat on his feet. So there he stood, with his baby girl sitting on his feet.


Me: "Why were you and mom writing checks the day I was born?"

Dad: "Well I was probably going to the grocery store to feed you gol' dang kids."

Me: "Actually, it was mom.  And she wrote a check for 50 pounds of Purina High Protein dog food."

I called my mom today at work and she told me that I was born in the evening, because after running her dog food errand, (imagine buying 50 pounds of dog food 9 months pregnant!) she came home and decided that if she drank a beer, it would take the pains away and hurry up her labor.  So she had a beer and went to bed.  Then I was born!


I *think* when my mom was pregnant with me, she had to have her appendix out.  I have a memory of being told that the doctors thought I was a tubal pregnancy, and so they went in to take me out, but in a miraculous turn of events, they realized that the baby (me) was just fine, and it was the appendix that needed to be removed.  This memory is probably as untrue as me thinking my great-great-great-great-great grandfather invented the coo coo clock.  I can't remember who told me that, but it wasn't true at all.  Apparently a distant relative was from the Black Forest region of Germany, and maybe worked on them, but didn't invent them.

Here is my favorite childhood Legend:

And the whole family was in on it.  Supposedly, the reason I was the only blonde kid was that Olivia Newton-John was my REAL mother, but was too busy on the road to take care of me.  Naturally she brought me to live with Hal and Dianne Hexum of International Falls.  Makes sense, right?  For years I would listen to her records and cry and cry.  Imagining that some day she would come and get me and save me from these people...

I did find evidence of a Hospital charge for $200 before I was born, so maybe the legend of the tubal pregnancy/appendectomy is true?

You know what I didn't find?  Child support checks from Olivia N-J.  Deadbeat.  Didn't even take care of her own.  No wonder her husband faked his own death.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Hal-isms, Vol. 6

"You know what I'm going to do?  I'm going to go buy myself some Crocs, so I can blend in."

"Look.  There's a guy with a cane.  Why don't we stop and give HIM a thousand dollars?"

(While changing a tire) "Well THAT makes me pee."

"Oh my achin' ass.  Do you s'pose I should go lay down for a while?"

Speaking of Muttering Under One's Breath...

My mom and dad and my sister Keri and I shared a hotel room last year.  When we all crawled into bed, mom and dad into theirs and my sister Keri and I into ours, my dad started recounting his shock at my mom's drink-pouring by saying something like this:

"Yah your mom set her drink down on the table and I took a sip of it and HOO-EEEE it was strong."

And then my mom muttered.  Under her breath:


Wednesday, July 14, 2010

'Twas the Toilet Seat That Brought us Together

My dad and I bonded over toilet seat repair yesterday.  But not in a good way.  About two weeks ago, I leaned to the side to wipe, because that's how I do, and the toilet seat snapped off on the left side.  Which made leaning to the right very dangerous in future encounters.  (I do not approve of between-the-legs wiping.  It doesn't work for the 'front-to-back' rule, and also not for number two, and so for 33 years I have been a leaner-wiper.  Ooohh...I'd love to hear your comments on this subject...maybe an unofficial poll in the comments section.  And remember, you can remain anonymous!  But I'LL know who you are, because I have ways of finding out.) 

Anyways, of course my dad was angry, because who breaks a toilet seat?  ME.  His no-rent-paying, delayed-lawn-mowing, in-charge-of-nephew-who-spreads-sand-on-precious-grass-watching, internet-time-spending, TV-watching ingrate of a daughter who never can quite read his mind about pet peeves and irritations early enough to prevent them from happening in the first place.

Fast forward to yesterday, when we decided to run some errands and go to the bank and post office.  I had to exchange a $5 Canadian bill into real American money and he had to deposit cash in order to buy another dog my mom doesn't really want him buying.  (A "discussion" -fight- for which I was the mediator.)  Anyway, I wanted to spend my $4.55 US money on something spesh, because I arrived at that $5 bill by over-flirting with an adorable older German man from Fort Frances who happened to dine at one of my tables.  I decided to take my Prostate-Cancer-Recovering dad for ice cream, and why the heck shouldn't we stop into K-Mart and I'll pick up a brand new toilet seat while we're at it?

We went to K-Mart first (obviously) and I ran in by myself.  I grabbed the cheapest toilet seat, three brand new clean $1.79 toilet brushes for good measure, generic Swiffer dusters ($5 cheaper than Swiffer) cuz we out, and an Aveeno SPF moisturizer to stop my freckle-mustache from getting any bigger.  I got the heck out of there for only $41.51.  Take that, Target!  Good thing I saved all that money on the necessities, so that I could spend $19.99 on moisturizer.  But I digress.  Two Hardee's ice cream cones later we got home and set to installing the toilet seat. 

My favorite part was CLEANING THE GUNK OUT FROM UNDER THE OLD SEAT BOLTS.  Gross!  But so satisfying.  Insert rolled-dad-eyes here.  My second favorite part was when my dad had to remind me that it was almost impossible to break the toilet seat.  By muttering.  Under his breath:

"fat ass".

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Hal-isms, Vol. 5

*Stands up*  "OHPE!  I'm peeing!  I'm peeing!  No, wait.  I'm not.  But I will be."

Regarding Jennifer Lopez in her bubble-wrap dress at the Oscars (which I finally got to watch on my mom's DVR):
"Is she fat?  Or just padded?  Well look how far out her rump goes."

My Stupid Sisters, with an Erroneous Plug for my Blog

"Kelly, don't do that to yourself."  Also, notice Keri's righteous indignance at me filming.  And her incorrect statement of my blog address.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Reunited...And it Feels so Good

I almost can't even believe it, but my suitcase arrived this weekend.  Since we parted in Bangkok back on April 25th, it sat in a travel agency until Summer picked it up around June 8th...and then she brought it to Vermont...where Nancy picked it up and drove it back to Hutchinson, MN...and then my aunts/cousins picked it up on their way from Texas and delivered it.  Brilliant plan, complete.

When my cousin Jacqui told me to go and get it out of the trunk, she said it was super heavy, huge and black. I had a heart attack because it's army green, with neon green plastic wrap and I didn't remember it being super heavy or huge.  Thankfully we were both mistaken and it was in fact my suitcase.

Take that, doubters!  If it makes you feel any better there wasn't really anything good in there, just a bunch of warm weather clothes.  I am most excited about the Tea Tree clay mask I bought in New Zealand for $20 and my hair goo.  Couldn't spare the weight at the time, I guess, but it's here now!


A five and a four!  (Somewhere near Uranus.)
Take that, doubters.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Taking a Walk Down Memory Highway

We're getting my parents' house ready for sale, and my mom had to confess that she has every check she has ever written boxed up in the garage.  Not to mention every light bill, tax return and pay stub.  Check out this receipt for gas:  8 gallons for $3.05.  In 1970.

Maybe Kim was their favorite daughter back when she was their only daughter.  Because apparently they bought her this bike, and it must have been brand new to come with an owner's manual like that:

Here we have a check written to "cash" for $4.00, in December of 1967.  Maybe they went for dinner and a movie?

It might seem like my mom's house is filled with crap and junk, but it's really not.  All this info was neatly organized into boxes in the top of the garage:

Oh, and I remember as a kid (during the I-wish-I-was-a-hippie-in-the-60's-phase) asking my parents if they went to Woodstock.  My mom laughed and told me they were too busy having kids and being married and p.s. they had no interest in such a thing.  Out of curiosity, I looked up the dates for the original Woodstock and found the corresponding dates for checks my mom wrote.  Yes, they were at the grocery store.  National Foods, $5.00 on August 19, 1969 and Red Owl, $30.33 on August 20, 1969.  Too busy having kids and being married was right.

And how did they afford such exorbitant grocery bills?  By these insane pay checks, of course:  To save you from doing the math...that's $3.41 an hour!

OH, and here's where they bought a 1967 GTO and put up the household goods and appliances, (now owned or heretofore acquired) as collateral:

This isn't very fun for my mom and she's apprehensive about burning all of this stuff.  "43 years of my life..." something like that.

We're burning all of the 1967-1975 records, but we're glad we went through all of it first.  Not only for laughs, but also here is the tiny baby bracelet that my brother Scotty wore when he was born. 

Stay tuned for 1976-present!!

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Acting a Fool at Angkor Wat

I spent a morning exploring Angkor Wat by myself because Summer wasn't feeling well.  Against my better judgment, I strolled past the souvenir stands on my way in.  You can avoid them.  If you want.  But I purposely went shopping.  I needed a fan and a magnet and I wanted to check out T-Shirts for my nephew. 

In Cambodia, the pressure to buy stuff is really bad as I mentioned before.  This is why my decision was a bad one.  I was immediately harranged, harrassed and irritated into browsing or not browsing at a row of twenty to thirty shops, all selling similar items. 

I accidentally told a woman that I would maybe shop in her store if she would stop talking to me.  What I meant was, please, just let me browse.  I'm more likely to buy something.  I felt like such a craphead, but she understood and said, "yes, peace and quiet."  So now I knew that at least I wasn't the first person to make such a request, but now I had a new, more polite way to ask for no talking.  And I bought a fan and a magnet from her.  But as usual that's not the point of my story.  I think I'm just sort of leading up to the embarrassing behavior on my part in this next section:

Four stalls down the line, a short little tiny girl came up to me and showed me some keychains and stuff in her hands, beckoning me to her store.  "Do you like my things?  Do you want to buy my things?", she said, and no, I did not want to buy her things, but she was ADORABLE. 

I proceeded to say, "I like YOU!" (in baby talk) and poked her in the arm.  "You are so CUTE!", (in baby talk) and I poked her again.  She asked me again if I would like to buy something, and I continued pinching and squeezing and squinching her and calling her adorable and cute and saying that I liked her every time she asked me if I liked her stuff.  This went on for a long time.  I was about to ask her why she wasn't in school, but thought better of it, and instead asked her how OLD she was. (In baby talk.)

"Twenty-one".  She replied. 

"HAHAHAAAAAAhahahahaaaHHHAAAA!!  Good one!"  I said.  "No really!  How OLD are you?!" (in baby talk).  *Pinch!

"Twenty-one."  She replied.  "I have a son.  He is 13 months old." She said.

Now her friend agreed and confirmed. "She's twenty-one."

"No WAY!  Not possible.  REALLY??  How old is she?!" (in baby talk).  *Poke!

I would not stop.  Until finally I looked closer at her tiny little face and realized that in fact she did look pretty old.  But now come on, she was like four feet tall.  Then I insisted on a photo and look how irritated she is.

"Shut up lady, I'm old enough to be your Grandmother."

Another Hal-ism

"Why do you want to leave the country?  To see a bunch of backward people.  Pissing in the streets."

Monday, July 5, 2010

Osha Video

I have had a second job for the past few years watching my disabled nephew Murphy.  I am employed by a company that provides Personal Care Attendants for families who need help caring for their kids.  Typically I would watch Murphy on Sundays at my house.  But, since I quit my job to spend some time traveling, I also had to spend that time away from my nephew and I really missed him.

Fortunately, his mom and dad are letting me watch him ALL SUMMER at my parents' house!  He has to be back to school around September 7th, so until then it's me and Murph and grandpa and grandma up in Northern Minnesota.  We're having a good time too.  Murphy loves City Beach, he loves chillin' in the yard here, he loves grandma's popcorn, and I am going to get our tandem bicycle up and running tomorrow so we can ride out to go swimming whenever the sun shines.  I know, I know, I'm supposed to be taking a year off from work, and now I have a full time job watching Murphy and a part time job waiting tables.  Somebody's gotta pay for luxury hostel accomodations, folks!  (read: somebody spent too much money in Australia.)

The point of this story is that when I got home from the first leg of my trip and picked up my mail, not only did I discover my drivers' license was about to expire, but I also found out that in order to work this summer, I had to go into the office of my employer to watch some safety videos from OSHA.  I found them incredibly disgusting and wildly hilarious.  At the same time.

The videos depicted multiple stabbed-by-hazardous-needle-in-hand-under-rubber-glove/blood-everywhere scenes.  Thank goodness Murphy and I don't have to work with needles, but two of the three videos were specifically related to Sharps safety.  And nobody warned me.  GROSS!  Ben (Murph's dad) came with and watched the videos with me (because I had no car and I forced him to drive me up to Coon Rapids).

The two of us spent 32 of the 60 minutes laughing and the other 28 minutes barfing into our mouths.  I should mention the movies were made in the 1980s.  In one protect-your-back scene, a "patient" fainted and fell to the floor.  But the actress playing the "patient" was apparently conscious enough to make sure her underwear weren't showing underneath her gown because she kept tugging it down to cover up.  Uh...take two, anyone?  Here is another thing I found funny:  An ANCIENT box of "Spic N Span" being measured with a teaspoon into a bucket.  ON TOP OF A TOILET.  Brilliant cinemetography. 

And here you can sort of see the fantasic hair and wardrobe people at work:

Ironically, I spent the following week in the hospital with my dad and had to get him in and out of bed.  Thanks, OSHA!

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Surprise, Surprise

I don't even know why this would shock me in any way, but here was the scene in my yard as my mom and I pulled out of the driveway to grab some groceries.  It seems that somebody in town had a problem squirrel.  My dad trapped it, then set it free for the dog to tree it...and then my dad shot it.  Right next to the house.  In town. Note the binoculars in the second photo.  This is why I carry my camera with me at all times.

Pad Thai Miyo

Look at Meeps in her little 'silly' pants, as Summer and I like to call them.  I got them for her in Bangkok.  They have a little elephant butt and tail on the back...and the best part is she can wear them until she's like 10 because they are all adjustable.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...