Well, I got some great deals today, but boy, am I tired after starting my shopping at 4 am.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. No. Waking up at 4 am is not something I would do voluntarily.
H went into work today, even though his office is closed (poor H has been working his heart out lately on a big case), and my mom and I lazed around and then went shopping at about 11:30. And you know what? All those crazy early morning sales were still going on. I can understand getting up freakishly early for a crazy deal on electronics that you need or the Cabbage Patch Kid your daughter is going wild for in the year 1985 (thanks, Mom!), but here is a secret. KOHL'S IS ALWAYS HAVING SALES. Where was I? Oh, yes. I woke up at 10 am and still got good deals.
After shopping, we came home and made awesome hot turkey sandwiches. Then we decorated the house for Christmas, and it looks awesome. We are waiting for H to come home, and then we will decorate the tree. Suddenly, I am excited about Christmas!
But do you know what I am not excited about? Football. No more football. I cannot take it any more.
Showing posts with label Grrrrrr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grrrrrr. Show all posts
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Life Lessons
When I didn't write anything yesterday, were you thinking I had traveled to Texas to go on a church trip with my new friends? Well, much to dismay, they have not yet invited me on their trip, so I guess I will stay in Minnesota for now.
A post Jonniker wrote the other day, plus some of your comments on my last post, made me think of some weird phone calls I have received.
When I moved to Minnesota, I got a new cell phone and a new phone number. One Sunday, I got a phone call from a woman I didn't know. "YOU STOLE MY HUSBAND'S PHONE!" she yelled. I asked her what phone number she was trying to reach. She said her husband's phone number was XXX-XXX-XXXXZ. I tried to explain to her that phone numbers only have 10 digits and that the number she had just said was not a real phone number. She screamed, "I KNOW MY HUSBAND'S PHONE NUMBER! IT IS XXX-XXX-XXXXZ, AND YOU HAVE HIS PHONE!" Then she threatened to beat me up. I don't know about you, but I do not care for psycho idiots yelling at me. H took the phone from me and started screaming back at this lady. H hung up. The lady called back at least 10 times. So I called the police. An officer came to our house to take the report. Meanwhile, psycho idiot lady who doesn't know how phone numbers work kept calling me. The officer called psycho idiot lady from his Official Police Phone and tried to explain to her how phone numbers work. Eventually, he just said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but this woman does not have your phone, and if you keep calling her, I will arrest you for harassing her." And she never called again. Yay!
The lessons of the day are (1) people are stupid, and (2) I am not afraid to call the police. But you already knew that.
A post Jonniker wrote the other day, plus some of your comments on my last post, made me think of some weird phone calls I have received.
When I moved to Minnesota, I got a new cell phone and a new phone number. One Sunday, I got a phone call from a woman I didn't know. "YOU STOLE MY HUSBAND'S PHONE!" she yelled. I asked her what phone number she was trying to reach. She said her husband's phone number was XXX-XXX-XXXXZ. I tried to explain to her that phone numbers only have 10 digits and that the number she had just said was not a real phone number. She screamed, "I KNOW MY HUSBAND'S PHONE NUMBER! IT IS XXX-XXX-XXXXZ, AND YOU HAVE HIS PHONE!" Then she threatened to beat me up. I don't know about you, but I do not care for psycho idiots yelling at me. H took the phone from me and started screaming back at this lady. H hung up. The lady called back at least 10 times. So I called the police. An officer came to our house to take the report. Meanwhile, psycho idiot lady who doesn't know how phone numbers work kept calling me. The officer called psycho idiot lady from his Official Police Phone and tried to explain to her how phone numbers work. Eventually, he just said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but this woman does not have your phone, and if you keep calling her, I will arrest you for harassing her." And she never called again. Yay!
The lessons of the day are (1) people are stupid, and (2) I am not afraid to call the police. But you already knew that.
Monday, April 09, 2007
I'm Short
I am devastated. I went to the doctor last week. And the nurse told me that I am only 5 feet 1.5 inches tall. NOOOOOOOOOO! I am at least 5'2", and I always round up to 5'3". The reason I am devastated is that I fear the nurse who measured me is correct, and I am, in fact, barely over 5 feet tall. I am tiny! NOOOOOOOO!
Not surprisingly, I was always one of the shortest kids in my class. In third through fifth grades, my best friend was one of the tallest kids in my class. Her parents met in college, where they both played basketball. In fifth grade, my friend was at least as tall as my mom. Probably taller, because when my friend's younger sister (who was in my sister's class) used to play dress up with my sister, my friend's sister had to wear my mom's shoes, and they were too small. IN SECOND GRADE.
Another story about how tall my friend and her sister were: Our moms took us to see Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and my friend's mom asked for tickets for one adult and two kids. The kid selling tickets did not believe that my friend and her sister were under 12. My friend was 10, and her sister was 7 or 8. Their mom had to show their birth certificates to get the kids' rate. So yes, my friend was tall.
Anyway, in fifth grade, my friend wanted to play basketball on the co-ed intramural team at school, but there weren't any other girls playing that year. So she asked me to play on the team with her, and I agreed. Not only was I much shorter than everyone else, I was also slow and uncoordinated. But I was just participating to support my friend, and I didn't care too much that I sucked. I just ran up and down the court and stayed out of the way of the action. Every once in a while, the coach made my team throw the ball to me, and all the boys would get out of my way to let me attempt a shot. I don't think I ever made it. I much preferred when I could just run up and down the court and daydream about whatever dorky things fifth graders daydream about.
So I have always accepted that I am short, but I am not 5'1.5". I am 5'3", dagnabbit.
Not surprisingly, I was always one of the shortest kids in my class. In third through fifth grades, my best friend was one of the tallest kids in my class. Her parents met in college, where they both played basketball. In fifth grade, my friend was at least as tall as my mom. Probably taller, because when my friend's younger sister (who was in my sister's class) used to play dress up with my sister, my friend's sister had to wear my mom's shoes, and they were too small. IN SECOND GRADE.
Another story about how tall my friend and her sister were: Our moms took us to see Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and my friend's mom asked for tickets for one adult and two kids. The kid selling tickets did not believe that my friend and her sister were under 12. My friend was 10, and her sister was 7 or 8. Their mom had to show their birth certificates to get the kids' rate. So yes, my friend was tall.
Anyway, in fifth grade, my friend wanted to play basketball on the co-ed intramural team at school, but there weren't any other girls playing that year. So she asked me to play on the team with her, and I agreed. Not only was I much shorter than everyone else, I was also slow and uncoordinated. But I was just participating to support my friend, and I didn't care too much that I sucked. I just ran up and down the court and stayed out of the way of the action. Every once in a while, the coach made my team throw the ball to me, and all the boys would get out of my way to let me attempt a shot. I don't think I ever made it. I much preferred when I could just run up and down the court and daydream about whatever dorky things fifth graders daydream about.
So I have always accepted that I am short, but I am not 5'1.5". I am 5'3", dagnabbit.
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