Delicate Sensibilities

I've got a big work event coming up that requires some advertising.  The Publicity Coordinator has been working with one of our Graphic Artists to design the print ads. Our Graphic Artist is a rock star and has the patience of a saint.

That patience was recently tested, though, when our Publicity Coordinator took issue with the phrase "Pap Smear" in our print ad.

Apparently, it offended her and she thought that we shouldn't put that phrase in our ad.  However, that's exactly what the ad is for...free Pap Smears.  I'm not sure what else to call it, unless we use the actual name of the screening: Papanicolaou test.  Now tell me, would you have any idea what that was?

Nope.  Didn't think so.

So, I told the Graphic Artist to change the name of the screening to "Healthy HooHa".*

It's got a certain ring to it, doesn't it?

*not really, but it's the only other thing I could come up with.

Too Hot

to even consider composing a post.  Sorry :(

Tomorrow's the 4th of July Parade, so my mind's been occupied with how I'm going to do Estee's mane this year and what I'm going to wear.

I had to actually break down an buy another pair of jeans.  I wasn't going to buy jeans until I hit my goal weight, but only having one pair isn't working out so good anymore.  So I took my trusty Ashinator with me to find a pair of jeans.  She dragged me into Ross (a store I despise, because I hate to shop) and in ten minutes found me a pair of good butt jeans.  On the way out, she found me a shirt for the parade, too.  Not bad - that little girl of mine can shop.  New jeans and a new shirt for under $20.  Maybe I shouldn't hate Ross so much.  Or maybe I should always take my little fashion consultant with me.

Have a safe 4th of July!  I'll be back with pics and stories after the 4th.

No Fires, and No Boogers

How 'bout just a random post?  Because I'm pretty sure I ran off Momma Fargo with my boogers posts - she don't like 'em.

And frankly, I'm sick of the f-i-r-e, though I did find out that one of my friends lost his house.

But we're not talking about fires or boogers.

Shit.

Now what are we going to talk about?

The sunset sure is pretty, the way the fading sunlight reflects off the smo...crap, that's f-word related and we're not talking about that.

We were joking at work today that we need to buy stock in Kleenex because we all have snot...we're not talking about that either...

Oh. My. God.

What is with this whole FIFTY SHADES OF GREY business?  You know, if y'all want to be reading porn, that's your business, but since when does an erotic novel become the subject of such conversation?  Holy shit - everyone and their sister is reading it, and it's all anyone can talk about.

I'm not against porn erotic novels, but for all that's Holy, keep that shit to yourself in the bedroom where it belongs.  I cannot believe how many women are proudly announcing it.  Have you no self-respect?  Stash it under the mattress next to your hubby's Penthouse.

Gah!

Job Offer

Opened my email today and found this job offer...thought I'd share it with you.  Maybe you'll get as big a kick out of it as I did.  I think I'll pass on this big opportunity, though.

GunDiva,
 
I have reviewed your resume today. (A resume I never submitted!) Well done, I must say! (Freaking magical.  You know, since I never submitted one!) We have an opening for a gift wrapper associate (full-time and part-time). (Yep folks, that's what my $82K degree in Biology will get me.  A job as a professional gift wrapper.) I would like to offer you this position. Please let me know if you're interested.
 
* Offer valid 5/28/2012 thru 6/8/2012. (Apparently, the job has an expiration date.)
 
Mr. DimWitt, HR Manager
JCPenney Department Store 
 

Only RCC

From Google Images

I wish I was half as quick with witty comments as RCC is.  We've been watching a lot of Top Gear, the UK version, not the US version.  And we've been learning a lot of colorful phrases.  I mean, if you were to walk up to someone and call them a "cock", well, it wouldn't be very pleasant.  But for the Top Gear guys, calling each other cocks is the norm.  Heck, on one episode, they even had a cock-o-meter, to see who looked more like one driving a car.

But one phrase just cracks me up every time I hear it and it's "wedding vegetables" or "wedding veg".  If you don't know what wedding veg is, it is also known as the "gentleman parts" or "gentleman vegetables".

So last night, just as I'm falling off to sleep after another marathon of Top Gear on Netflix, my sleepy little mind wonders, "if boys have wedding veg, what do girls have?".  And since I was just on the verge of falling asleep, my brain/mouth filter didn't work and I thought it might be a good idea to ask RCC the same question.

Me:  "Hey, honey?"

RCC:  mumble

Me:  "So, if boys have wedding veg, what do girls have?"

RCC:  "Wedding vag."

Dang, I wish I could be half as witty wide awake as he is half asleep.

Randomness from the Nut House

Words of wisdom from the Ashinator:

• all I've learned about being an adult is that I can't fucking afford it.
• what screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it's supposed to be.

Original Digger quotes:

• "Don't worry, I'm something of an animal expert ... I watch Animal Planet."
• "On a scale from George Clooney to Ryan Reynolds, I'm better than all of them." <-- sometimes I think I'm too cocky
• "I hope I have fun in hell, I'm working really hard to get there."

Randomness from RCC

Vegetarians eat eggs, right?

Credit: CookieAthlete.com

But aren't eggs just liquid chicken?

Credit: Google images

Pre-tired

I keep telling my counterpart at work that I'm "pre-tired".  He doesn't get it.  Maybe I'm the only one who suffers from it.

Pre-tired is what happens when you look at your upcoming schedule and realize there is just not enough time in the day/week/month/year to get it all done.  And the thought of trying to do it all is exhausting.

That's pre-tired.

Which is what I am now.

My life is about to get a whole lot busier, which means the gym will probably go by the wayside for a while (at least, going as often as I'd like, will go by the wayside) and I'll get even further behind on reading y'alls blogs and posting my own.  It's about to get ugly busy around here.

But...once I'm done being pre-tired, start putting one foot in front of the other and trudge my way through the next four weeks, I'll have the luxury of being actual-tired.  Actual-tired is okay, because you can rest up and recover.

Hopefully.

B-I-N-G-

-Oh, hell no, never again!

One of the main fundraisers for Autobot's gymnastics booster club is bingo.  Lots of people love bingo.  Lots of people win big at bingo.

Nebalee spends half of her life in the bingo hall, working toward Autobot's gym/meet/travel fees.  On ocassion, one of her family members goes to bingo.  RCC and I have gone, Junior and his future wife have gone, Deejo and his family have gone.  It's something to do, and you might win some money.  Breaks up the monotony for Nebalee.

RCC and I have gone a couple of times.  In fact, I think we went on New Year's Eve.  Do we know how to live large, or what? 

Last night, I got the bright idea to go again.  What the hell was I thinking?

I was thinking it might be kind of fun.  We had received our own daubers on NYE and, well, why not?

We loaded up our daubers, hit the ATM and headed into the bingo hall.

It took me about halfway into the first game for me to remember why bingo isn't such a good idea.  I suck at it.  I know it's all supposed to be random, but the random bingo gods hate me.  And they hate RCC.  Every time we've been to bingo, we have just pissed our money away.

But then, I got close.  Like one ball close to winning big.  So we stayed for the second session, even though that meant a trip to get more cash.

And I got close again.  This time to a $500 jackpot.

And that's it.  Close certainly wasn't good enough.

We came home with $1.00 - that's what was left over of the $80 we dropped at the bingo hall.  We're the cheapskates.  There were people there spending their entire pension in boards.  I can't imagine how on earth they can afford to go as often as they do and drop as much money as they do.  It's insane.

But I won't be doing it again.  We threw our daubers away, just to get rid of the temptation.

Next time I feel like blowing $80 and having nothing to show for it, I'm making RCC take me out to dinner and a movie.

Or I'll just give the money straight to Autobot to put towards her gymnastics.

But I'm boycotting the bingo hall.

Snow Day?

While I'm not one to complain about an unexpected day off of work, 6 inches of snow didn't used to be enough to shut things down.  I know other parts of the area got hammered.  I heard Compass grumbling about two feet and still falling up in Allenspark. 

Compass' dog, Ingrid.
You can almost see her.

The livery.
The hitch post is four feet or so high.

Haven't called Mom and Bill yet to see what the total is...hang tight, I'll find out...according to Mom, she had 31 inches (up to her hips) at morning feeding. It hasn't stopped snowing since, but she promises to get pictures up soon and some new measurements.

I had some grandiose Snow Day plans.  Free time to do some revisions on HUNTED LYON, sleep, workout,  maybe sleep some more.

What have I done today?

Well, I slept until 9 am.  Got up and opened the computer with every intention of opening the book and diving into the revisions.

But first, I had to check my email.

And then Facebook.

And then the blogs.

Which reminded me that I had a post I wanted to put up on The GunDivas.  So I wrote that.

Then I checked the blogs again.  Who knows?  Maybe someone had put up something new.  No?

Well, I haven't heard from Rachel in a while.  I'd better check her blog.  Oh, my, I was behind.

Every blog I checked, I was at least a week behind on.  So I had a lot of reading and commenting to do and that took a fair bit of time.

And then I remembered that I had a second blog half-written for The GunDivas, better finish that one.

And check Facebook.

And check my email.

And here it is...5:10 pm and I've yet to open the file for HUNTED LYON.

But now it's time to dig out and go to the store.  I've a hankering for Green Chile Stew.

So...what have you gotten accomplished today?

~~~~

Oh! Oh! Oh!  I just realized that my next blog post is #500!  What on earth should I do for my 500th post?

It's Been Awhile

Long enough, that I don't actually remember my last post.  Yeah, sorry about that.

Anytoolazytoreadmyownlastpost, I have some crazy randomness that is my family.  In fact, I told Ashinator that she may have lost her spot as the funniest (Digger is going to kill me for that comment) one-line dealer in the family.  Nebalee's youngest is only three, but dang, is she a funny kid.

Exhibit A:
While riding Estes with her, Estes gave a hefty old farmer's blow and blew horsie boogers all over the place.  I was really glad we were riding and not in front of her - we would have been covered in horse boogs.  When I told Asset that was gross, she said, "I jus' pick my nose an' eat my boogers."  Then she shrugged her shoulders, tossed her hair back and said, "I'm jus' a little girl, I can eat all the boogers I want."

Well, hell, who can argue with that logic?

Exhibit B:
During the second weekend of baking, toward the end of the day, Asset came running into the kitchen, crying.  Nebalee dropped down to her knees and asked her what was wrong.
"I jus' burned my finger a little bit."
"Let me see.  How did you burn your finger?" Nebalee asked.
"I jus' burned my finger a little bit on a flashlight."
"Well, let me kiss it better then," Nebalee offered.
"No, Mom! Kisses don't make it better! Ice does!"

Again, who can argue with that logic?  Especially if she's right.

I'm kind of thinking Asset should get her own blog, "Shit my 3 year-old niece says".  But that would be just one more blog I'd neglect, so maybe not.

Other random thing:
On the packaging for my toilet paper, it very proudly announces that it is "flushable and septic safe".  Really?  I didn't know they made toilet paper that wasn't flushable.  Hmm.  Who knew?

Rant

For those of you who don't know, I'm an Associate Dean at a for-profit career college.

There, I laid it out, you all can gasp over the fact that I work for a 1) for-profit, 2) career college.  Sadly, they've gotten a bad rap, mostly because we threaten the hell out of the State Colleges/Universities.  But that's a rant for another day.

Oh, I suppose I should tell you to look at the disclaimer on the right side of the page that says that I don't speak for my employer.

As an Associate Dean, I carry a full teaching load (if you ask my hubby or kids, they might tell you it's more than a full teaching load - it's more like working two full-time jobs) in addition to my administrative duties.   One of the things that drives me absolutely bat shit is students who put ZERO effort into their education.

School's expensive, especially a specialized school like ours, though we haven't seen nearly the tuition hikes that the State schools have.  We sat down once and figured that for every F a student earns, it costs them approximately $1,800 in additional tuition.

As I was entering my grades tonight, I was dismayed to see that I have four morning students and one evening student who have earned 'F's.  FIVE!  Know what the common denominators were? 

Attendance and failure to turn in work (funny, how if you don't come to class, you don't know what the assignments are and since I don't accept late work, if you're absent the day it's due you're screwed).

Every. Single. Student who failed did so because they didn't come to class or turn in their work.

That's not to say that the students who do attend are being "given" grades - they earn every point they get.  I am not an easy teacher; I have high expectations and I hold them to it.  These students are going to be medical assistants and healthcare administrators who have a good chance of giving care to me, my family, or my friends in the future.  I want them, at minimum, to be competent.

All I can say is it's a damn shame when the instructor puts more work into the students' education than the students do.

Randomness. Again.

Digger's my oldest child.  He's also a bit of a pain in the arse.  He's ten inches or so taller than me and likes to use my shoulders as arm rests.  It's annoying.  But not as annoying as what he told me at our friends' wedding:

"Mom, you're so little.  It's like having a fun-sized parent."

Funny, but annoying.

Little shit.

~~~~~~~~~~

So today, I went for up the hill for a ride.  It was cold enough that I wore my duster to ride in; I've found that riding bareback with a duster on will keep me nice and toasty.  The duster acts like a tent that holds in the horse's body temp.  It's actually quite cozy.

After my ride(s), two actually, Mom needed Bill and I to move some hay.  Since walking in my duster is like walking in a damn prom dress, I changed out of it and into my Carhartt jacket.

And was able to zip it closed.

For the first time in a long time (we're talking years).

Not only could I zip it closed, but I had layers on underneath!

Long Week.

Glad it's over.

Managed to finish my challenge today: 32 push-ups in one minute.  Pathetic.

Don't care.

It's bed time.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

My Cat Can Beat Up Your Dog

...and I've got the warning summons to show it (of course, my phone's not playing nicely and I can't get it to upload).

Last week a disgruntled concerned neighbor visited our home to complain that our cat attacked his dog.  His precious little Shih Tzu got beat up by our little black and white cat.

I opened my mail today to find a "warning summons" for an "Animal at Large" who is a "Public Nuisance".  The officer's notes:

The cat was at large in the informant's yard and attacked his dog.

I have to tell you, my neighbor's a lot more secure in his manhood than I would have expected.  I mean, to admit - to Animal Control, no less - that my little five pound black and white ball of fluff kicked the ever-loving shit out of his little ball of fluff  dog.

Who is he going to complain to when the coyotes get ahold of his little precious?  Our neighborhood may have been recently incorporated into the city limits, but someone forgot to tell all the coyotes that they're not country coyotes anymore.

Randomness

My boss likes to send out daily inspirations.  Mostly I look at them, nod and throw them in the recycle bin.  Today's, though, cracked me the hell up.

Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a good person is a little like expecting the bull not to attack you because you are a vegetarian.

~Dennis Wholey

Holy Busy Life, Batman!

I've been running hither and yon having an absolute blast this summer, which means my posting has gone down the toilet, but I'll have blog fodder through the winter when it's too cold to be doing all outdoor timewasters I've been doing.

Digger moved home from Wheatland (again); he's hoping to start school in the spring.  Ashinator is planning on joining him for spring semester.  In the meantime, they are job and apartment hunting.  Sadly, I think they're going to have to lower their standards for their first apartment.  But then, didn't we all?

Monster finally got back into school after being out for two years.  He's my youngest and school has been a constant uphill battle for him.  He doesn't get why we have to jump through the hoops and just do certain things.  School is one of them.  He'd rather just get a job and work than be in school.  Well, after two years, he's decided that maybe school isn't such a bad thing - no one wants to hire a sixteen year old drop-out.  He even mentioned to me that he regrets his decision to drop out, as the only school that will admit him is an on-line high school; he's burned all of his bridges in the public schools.  The good news is, that even though he's been a drop-out for two years, he scored well enough on his placement exams to be admitted as a junior.

This whole kids-growing-into-adults thing is rough and I don't think I like it.  I liked it so much better when they were my good kids and we were thick as thieves.  Now we each have our own lives/friends/goals and I miss the "all for one and one for all" thing we had going when they were little.  It was us against the world.  I spent some time the other night just wondering when it all changed and I can almost pinpoint it.  It was when I got hired on with the college.  The first year I was an adjunct instructor there, we were able to keep it up, but working 7 am to 10 pm every night kept me away from the kids too much and it hasn't let up at all.  In fact, over the past seven years, my schedule at the college has been ten to fourteen hours a day.  The job seemed like God's gift when I took it so long ago - we really needed the increase in pay to keep a roof over our heads - but there are times now that I wonder if it was worth it.

I see my girls, Robs and Staci, with their children (who are much younger than mine) and miss those times with my kids.  This whole transition-to-adulthood thing really sucks.

Gah - done with that touchy-feely crap.  It was getting thick there for a minute.

Anywho'sadamnsaplately, I'm off to ride the best mare on the planet and then Ripley gets her last (I think) cosmetic present - a European Rally stripe.  She's been wanting one since I brought her home.  I've had it for months, but my schedule hasn't worked out with getting it applied until today.  I can't wait!!

With A Little Help From Bill

Allenspark Lodge said...


Let me help you start.
Once upon a time...
Nah
How 'bout
It was a dark and stormy night...
Bill

You got it, Bill.

It was a dark and stormy night... 

I was sleeping in a cot outside of the horses' pen, determined to catch the critter(s) that insisted on breaking the fences. Armed with a flashlight, shotgun and one mother of a case of PMS, I was ready.

I would have sworn my eyes had just closed when I heard the scuffling sound of critters along the fence line.  My eyes flew open, and I reached for the shotgun, searching the shadows for the source of the noise.  Finding an indescript large shadow looming over the fence, I attempted to shoulder the shotgun only to have it flop at my side when my left arm refused to cooperate.

My cries of "DAMN YOU, EL POQUITO DIABLO!" succeeded in scaring off the critters.  Cursing loudly at the Little Bastard El Poquito Diablo for torturing me at the gym, I broke down the cot and dragged my gear back to the house, where I slept in a warm and comfortable bed.

The End

A Whole Lotta No Time

It seems like I should have a lot of time to get my blogging done.

And then reality hits and there's no time. (Unless I give up my once-a-week nap)

WTH happens to time?  It just keeps disappearing.

I've got a lot of blogs I want to write.  Hell, they're written in my head.  I just have to find the time to sit down and get them outta my head.

I will one of these days.  I really, really will.

What I Learned This Week

• The cure for hiccups, courtesy RockCrawlinChef: go poop.  The hypothesis being that the, uh, fecal matter is backing up in the colon and pressing on the diaphragm causing the hiccups. Of course, that only works if you're full of shit (and apparently he was, 'cause it worked).
• Flatlanders can't drive in the mountains.  Here's a little tip: rarely are brakes required when driving uphill.  Usually gravity will help with the slowing of the vehicle if you just take your foot of the skinny pedal.
• Popping a piece of Polar Ice gum into your mouth immediately after eating spicy chicharrones is a Bad Idea.  You will immediately regret it.  Trust me on this.
• I'll do pretty much anything for $20 an hour.  This includes getting up at the butt-crack of dawn (4:30 am) to go work as a phlebotomist for four hours before reporting to work at my real job.  Luckily, it's only for three days.  Unluckily, it's for a health fair at Campus Crusade for Christ.  How is that unlucky, you ask?  I have a mouth that could embarrass a sailor.  I can keep it under control when working with patients by merely thinking what I want to say outloud.  Only, being surrounded by so many super-religous people, I feel guilty even thinking bad words.
• Studies have actually been done that show that cursing decreases pain levels, lowers blood pressure and helps to reduce stress.  Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I'm going to be under after three days of no stress reduction?  Like a pressure cooker, I have to be able to vent some steam or I'll blow.  I'd be scared, but I've got some sessions scheduled with El Poquito Diablo.  He's pretty good about withstanding my venting.
• Birthday calories do, in fact, add up and count on the scale.  Damn it.