So The Hubby and I were at the stizore the other day, we had this craving for steak on a Sunday night.
Nothin is really better than steak on Sunday, sort of a good way to start the week off right.
So we are shopping looking for a good buy and a good cut, when I notice a bunch of meat with a sticker on it "Nebraska Beef" it says and I was thinking, "Wow that's cool, Nebraska grown beef. Now that's got to be good."
Then on the sticker in little letters it says "From New Jersey." Now that's BS.
And what is up with that?
Monday, February 25, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Horses v. Chuck
Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse... horses are hung like Chuck Norris.
Nuff said.
I do wonder if that gets in the way of his round house kick sometimes you know. I'm sure a man like Chuck has learned to overcome any obstacles and turn said obstacle to his favor.
Nuff said.
I do wonder if that gets in the way of his round house kick sometimes you know. I'm sure a man like Chuck has learned to overcome any obstacles and turn said obstacle to his favor.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Real Gas
Not to be one of those that complains about the price of gas...but I think I'm going to take a minute and complain about the price of gas.
just spent $52 to fill up my tank. I also just realized I'm spending $80 more a month on gas then I was just a few months ago. And I'm spending twice as much as I spent 5 years ago when I first moved to Texass. And I drive a fuel efficient car.
Its left me wondering when is it going to stop? And if it doesn't can I really afford it? I found myself looking at Vespas on-line yesterday. And today I contemplated how long it would really take me to ride my bike to work everyday. I'm definately thinking about getting a hybrid. I just read an article about how the demand is up way more than it was in the 90's and how, countries like Russia, Iran and Venezuala are not producing as much oil becuase there isn't a need.
And also becuase of the strained relationship we have with these countries they aren't going to do anything to help us. Couple that with the debaucle in Iraq, which has greatly affected their ability to export oil like they used to. Puts us in this situation.
Interesting really, so now I'm also wondering will it ever go back down to the $2/gallon range? Or will this demand for oil and continued higher cost, move people out of thier SUV's and gas guzzlers and back to a more fuel efficient economy? Hard to say. I also read somewhere (probably CNN.com) where only a small percentage of the United States considers the rising price of a gallon of gas is causing econimic hardship to them and their family.
So most Americans are fine with paying $4/gallon for gas. I know I'm not. I just wonder how high it will go before we are all forced start changing the way we live and help make this country less dependent on oil.
I think I may have just had an ah ha moment...I guess if the price of gas doesn't change. I may have to change. And you thought this was going to be another story about flatulence....I'm just full of suprises.
just spent $52 to fill up my tank. I also just realized I'm spending $80 more a month on gas then I was just a few months ago. And I'm spending twice as much as I spent 5 years ago when I first moved to Texass. And I drive a fuel efficient car.
Its left me wondering when is it going to stop? And if it doesn't can I really afford it? I found myself looking at Vespas on-line yesterday. And today I contemplated how long it would really take me to ride my bike to work everyday. I'm definately thinking about getting a hybrid. I just read an article about how the demand is up way more than it was in the 90's and how, countries like Russia, Iran and Venezuala are not producing as much oil becuase there isn't a need.
And also becuase of the strained relationship we have with these countries they aren't going to do anything to help us. Couple that with the debaucle in Iraq, which has greatly affected their ability to export oil like they used to. Puts us in this situation.
Interesting really, so now I'm also wondering will it ever go back down to the $2/gallon range? Or will this demand for oil and continued higher cost, move people out of thier SUV's and gas guzzlers and back to a more fuel efficient economy? Hard to say. I also read somewhere (probably CNN.com) where only a small percentage of the United States considers the rising price of a gallon of gas is causing econimic hardship to them and their family.
So most Americans are fine with paying $4/gallon for gas. I know I'm not. I just wonder how high it will go before we are all forced start changing the way we live and help make this country less dependent on oil.
I think I may have just had an ah ha moment...I guess if the price of gas doesn't change. I may have to change. And you thought this was going to be another story about flatulence....I'm just full of suprises.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Idiots behind the wheel
I saw Britney Spears yesterday.
Well not Miss Spears herself, but someone emulating her.
There weren't any paps around, and she wasn't wearing a pink wig and headed to Starbucks.
Saw a woman driving around with her child on her lap in the drivers seat. I guess maybe she wasn't a very good driver or something becuase her son was helping her steer as well, maybe she just had her hands full.
I wonder if she had her infant working the pedals as well? I mean driving around is pretty difficult work, I mean we can't expect mother's to be able to do everything themselves. To her credit she didn't appear to be smoking a cigarette, but I'm thinking she may have just put down the crack pipe.
Well not Miss Spears herself, but someone emulating her.
There weren't any paps around, and she wasn't wearing a pink wig and headed to Starbucks.
Saw a woman driving around with her child on her lap in the drivers seat. I guess maybe she wasn't a very good driver or something becuase her son was helping her steer as well, maybe she just had her hands full.
I wonder if she had her infant working the pedals as well? I mean driving around is pretty difficult work, I mean we can't expect mother's to be able to do everything themselves. To her credit she didn't appear to be smoking a cigarette, but I'm thinking she may have just put down the crack pipe.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Don't Ask "How are you?"
I grew up in a small town. And as small towns go, you have your token window peeper (we called ours Nanner Nose) the token black guy (ours was different people throughout the years, but my favorite was the kid who came out of his white momma and was black, and she swore it was her husbands, who was blond haired, fair skinned and blue eyed…but I digress) and we have the token crazy person, whom we called Norma.
Norma is a sweet old lady; I never once saw her drive a car, although I think I would hide in the next county away if I did hear that she was behind the wheel of an automobile. Why you might ask, because she was crazy.
No, Norma walked. She walked and she walked and she walked. She had to be in pretty good shape because she walked so much.
One of my favorite things to do was dive by and honk at her when she was walking on the highway. She would stop and turn and wave, then stare at you with her hands on her hips until you were out of site, probably muttering under her breath about how her hip and her heart aren’t doing as well as they used to.
I don’t know how old Norma is but she’ll probably live forever because of all the cardio she does. She probably was in her 60’s or 70’s when I was growing up. She was definitely a little person. She couldn’t have been more than 4 foot tall. She used to come down to the Deli where I worked a few times during the day. First she would come in and get a Diet Coke, then later in the afternoon she would come in for an ice cream cone. Between each of these trips she would go the seven or so blocks back to her house then walk back up to town for another errand.
She would go to the grocery store then back to her house, go to Gas ‘n Shop, then back to her house, to the bank and back to her house. I would venture she would make the trip 7-10 times a day, rain, snow or shine…
Norma was one of those people; you just didn’t want to get started (if ya know what I mean). Once she started talking she would talk and talk and talk and talk.
I always hoped when she came into the Deli that we were busy or there would at least be one other person in there to distract her from me. Or if you wanted to piss off the person you were working with, go and hide in the bathroom as soon as she came in.
But luckily Norma probably liked to walk more than she liked to talk so she would just continue with the conversation she was having as she walked away from you. The door would be closing behind her as she talked about how her arthritis in her knee was making her pinky toe hurt.
I did learn at a very young age not to ever ask Norma how she was doing. The best thing was to just say “Hi Norma!” if you really wanted to go out on a limb you could say “Crazy weather we’re having huh?” But never ask her how she is doing, or you’ll be standing there listening to a full detailed report about her health, and she’ll cover everything from head to toe…
Good ol Norma, she may have been a little crazy, but definitely hard to forget.
Norma is a sweet old lady; I never once saw her drive a car, although I think I would hide in the next county away if I did hear that she was behind the wheel of an automobile. Why you might ask, because she was crazy.
No, Norma walked. She walked and she walked and she walked. She had to be in pretty good shape because she walked so much.
One of my favorite things to do was dive by and honk at her when she was walking on the highway. She would stop and turn and wave, then stare at you with her hands on her hips until you were out of site, probably muttering under her breath about how her hip and her heart aren’t doing as well as they used to.
I don’t know how old Norma is but she’ll probably live forever because of all the cardio she does. She probably was in her 60’s or 70’s when I was growing up. She was definitely a little person. She couldn’t have been more than 4 foot tall. She used to come down to the Deli where I worked a few times during the day. First she would come in and get a Diet Coke, then later in the afternoon she would come in for an ice cream cone. Between each of these trips she would go the seven or so blocks back to her house then walk back up to town for another errand.
She would go to the grocery store then back to her house, go to Gas ‘n Shop, then back to her house, to the bank and back to her house. I would venture she would make the trip 7-10 times a day, rain, snow or shine…
Norma was one of those people; you just didn’t want to get started (if ya know what I mean). Once she started talking she would talk and talk and talk and talk.
I always hoped when she came into the Deli that we were busy or there would at least be one other person in there to distract her from me. Or if you wanted to piss off the person you were working with, go and hide in the bathroom as soon as she came in.
But luckily Norma probably liked to walk more than she liked to talk so she would just continue with the conversation she was having as she walked away from you. The door would be closing behind her as she talked about how her arthritis in her knee was making her pinky toe hurt.
I did learn at a very young age not to ever ask Norma how she was doing. The best thing was to just say “Hi Norma!” if you really wanted to go out on a limb you could say “Crazy weather we’re having huh?” But never ask her how she is doing, or you’ll be standing there listening to a full detailed report about her health, and she’ll cover everything from head to toe…
Good ol Norma, she may have been a little crazy, but definitely hard to forget.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Technical Difficulties
It’s been a little while since I posted a Bittie Story. So I thought today would be a good day for one.
This is an oldie but a goodie. I saved this email from Spanky, back in our heavy emailing days, so that I could remember the details, and because it was really funny to me...
I’d only been married for three months and I got my security and computer identity changed at James' House so that I could officially start using my newly acquired last name.
I informed Bittie and Queen Bittie of this because they might need to change some of their mailing lists for department emails they send out, phone listings ect.
I send an email to Bittie and Queen, now Queen Bittie is actually a fairly smart, with-it individual, I actually kind of enjoy her most times. So anyway I send out this email so they could update their distribution lists and what nots with my new address. After I send out the email Smelly calls me. Yes I said calls me, as in, on the phone, not calls out to me. Have I not mentioned she is literally 10 steps away from me? I mean, she is close enought that I can hear her speaking with my open ear and hear her on the phone.
Anyway…“You sent this email to say you have a new email address but you didn’t say what it was,” she says in her disgustingly syrupy sweet southern accent.
“Well I don’t need to, I sent the email from my new address, just click on my name or hit reply or whatever and you’ll have it,(grrr) just a sec I’ll show you…”
So I go over to her office and tell her to right click on my name, “No RIGHT click on my name, ok see that little box that comes up, click on it and voila my name, email, phone number everything right there,” I say.
All she would have to do is click save to contacts and be done with it.
Well she sees my email, grabs a pencil, and let me just say she is pretty darn pissed off at this point, she writes my email on her desk. Not on a piece of paper literally ON HER DESK, then she says, “It would’ve been a lot easier to just have put it in the body of the email…”
This is an oldie but a goodie. I saved this email from Spanky, back in our heavy emailing days, so that I could remember the details, and because it was really funny to me...
I’d only been married for three months and I got my security and computer identity changed at James' House so that I could officially start using my newly acquired last name.
I informed Bittie and Queen Bittie of this because they might need to change some of their mailing lists for department emails they send out, phone listings ect.
I send an email to Bittie and Queen, now Queen Bittie is actually a fairly smart, with-it individual, I actually kind of enjoy her most times. So anyway I send out this email so they could update their distribution lists and what nots with my new address. After I send out the email Smelly calls me. Yes I said calls me, as in, on the phone, not calls out to me. Have I not mentioned she is literally 10 steps away from me? I mean, she is close enought that I can hear her speaking with my open ear and hear her on the phone.
Anyway…“You sent this email to say you have a new email address but you didn’t say what it was,” she says in her disgustingly syrupy sweet southern accent.
“Well I don’t need to, I sent the email from my new address, just click on my name or hit reply or whatever and you’ll have it,(grrr) just a sec I’ll show you…”
So I go over to her office and tell her to right click on my name, “No RIGHT click on my name, ok see that little box that comes up, click on it and voila my name, email, phone number everything right there,” I say.
All she would have to do is click save to contacts and be done with it.
Well she sees my email, grabs a pencil, and let me just say she is pretty darn pissed off at this point, she writes my email on her desk. Not on a piece of paper literally ON HER DESK, then she says, “It would’ve been a lot easier to just have put it in the body of the email…”
Monday, February 4, 2008
I'm going to hell
I am a terrible daughter…
I didn’t call my mom on Mother’s Day, if I believed in Hell, that is where I would be going. I then perpetuated the sin by lying to my mom in an email and told her that I called and no one answered then I forgot to call back later, because I fell asleep really early. None of which I did.
In my defense, I sort of dislike talking on the phone, and generally don’t call people that much, especially when I’m spending time with my own family. (Or playing Mario Kart, as was the case last night.)
What’s worse, I forgot to call her on Christmas a few years back as well. Oh well she didn’t go to my wedding…we are almost even I figure.
I didn’t call my mom on Mother’s Day, if I believed in Hell, that is where I would be going. I then perpetuated the sin by lying to my mom in an email and told her that I called and no one answered then I forgot to call back later, because I fell asleep really early. None of which I did.
In my defense, I sort of dislike talking on the phone, and generally don’t call people that much, especially when I’m spending time with my own family. (Or playing Mario Kart, as was the case last night.)
What’s worse, I forgot to call her on Christmas a few years back as well. Oh well she didn’t go to my wedding…we are almost even I figure.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Chuck Fact
So I know many anxiously await the Chuck Fact of the (I'd say day but I don't do it every day) so the Chuck Fact of the Week. (But it might be more than once a week.)
"When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris."
I'd like to add to this, when I was younger I wasn't afraid of the Boogeyman, I was afraid of witches.
Treebee, my darling little sis, and I shared a room and we had a bunk bed, I was on the top, (of the bunk bed that is) and I had a routine every night that I would perform in order to keep the witches at bay.
First I'd jump up to my bed, cover my head with my blanket and count to 20 holding my breath.
I'd then let my head out of the covers, keeping my eyes closed and hold my breath and count to 20 again holding my breath. This was supposed to keep the witches from getting me.
I'd then open my eyes and look around, check the room as best as I could. Then I'd try to fall asleep, and hopefully not dream of the witches.
I read in a dream book once, that I found in my school library, that when you dream of witches it means you have homosexual tendancies...something that my 9 year old brain had a hard time comprehending.
"When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris."
I'd like to add to this, when I was younger I wasn't afraid of the Boogeyman, I was afraid of witches.
Treebee, my darling little sis, and I shared a room and we had a bunk bed, I was on the top, (of the bunk bed that is) and I had a routine every night that I would perform in order to keep the witches at bay.
First I'd jump up to my bed, cover my head with my blanket and count to 20 holding my breath.
I'd then let my head out of the covers, keeping my eyes closed and hold my breath and count to 20 again holding my breath. This was supposed to keep the witches from getting me.
I'd then open my eyes and look around, check the room as best as I could. Then I'd try to fall asleep, and hopefully not dream of the witches.
I read in a dream book once, that I found in my school library, that when you dream of witches it means you have homosexual tendancies...something that my 9 year old brain had a hard time comprehending.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Bitties
I work with very eclectic group of people. And there is a group of support staff that I call "Bitties." Now my Bitties are a great source of entertainment for me. Whether they are throwing a hissy fit, talking politics or anatomy, I constantly find myself in utter amazement at the words that flow from these aged lips.
The Bitties are called the Bitties because they are somewhat of a click, like the ones I hated in high school, only instead of being in their teens they are in their 50's and 60's. They generally eat lunch in an office next to mine and when I decide to eat at my desk, I typically get an ear full.
Now most of the Bitties are very nice ladies and are named as follows:
Bittie Bittie - Because she is a Bittie.
Betty Bittie - she reminds me of Betty Rubble.
Chatty Bittie - the gossip of the office.
Queen Bittie - probably my favorite Bittie, and is also the big boss' assistant. And she seems to be the common thread that holds all the Bitties together.
Then there is also the Shuffler, named because of her walk. She isn't a Bittie, she is kind of like the department "special person." How she got a job here and retains a job here is beyond me. I have on several occasions walked by her office and noticed her sitting there staring at a blank computer screen literally twiddling her thumbs...
Well today's Bittie story involves Bittie Bittie, a lot of my Bittie stories will involve Bittie. While at a breakfast meeting for our entire department, she stated that our stomachs are, where she pointed is at what I would consider directly below my chest bone. Sorta in the middle of the girls. I was like, "no sir, that is not where my stomach is" but she insisted.I never really took a lot of science or anatomy type classes in college but I just knew my stomach didn't hang out between my girls. So I looked it up... http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/images/ency/fullsize/19223.jpg
Not exactly right, but kinda. Damn Bittie strikes again. Well I guess if the girls hang down low, I guess then your stomach would be between them. And for this reason my friends, is why you will see me wearing a sports bra until I'm 90.
The Bitties are called the Bitties because they are somewhat of a click, like the ones I hated in high school, only instead of being in their teens they are in their 50's and 60's. They generally eat lunch in an office next to mine and when I decide to eat at my desk, I typically get an ear full.
Now most of the Bitties are very nice ladies and are named as follows:
Bittie Bittie - Because she is a Bittie.
Betty Bittie - she reminds me of Betty Rubble.
Chatty Bittie - the gossip of the office.
Queen Bittie - probably my favorite Bittie, and is also the big boss' assistant. And she seems to be the common thread that holds all the Bitties together.
Then there is also the Shuffler, named because of her walk. She isn't a Bittie, she is kind of like the department "special person." How she got a job here and retains a job here is beyond me. I have on several occasions walked by her office and noticed her sitting there staring at a blank computer screen literally twiddling her thumbs...
Well today's Bittie story involves Bittie Bittie, a lot of my Bittie stories will involve Bittie. While at a breakfast meeting for our entire department, she stated that our stomachs are, where she pointed is at what I would consider directly below my chest bone. Sorta in the middle of the girls. I was like, "no sir, that is not where my stomach is" but she insisted.I never really took a lot of science or anatomy type classes in college but I just knew my stomach didn't hang out between my girls. So I looked it up... http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/images/ency/fullsize/19223.jpg
Not exactly right, but kinda. Damn Bittie strikes again. Well I guess if the girls hang down low, I guess then your stomach would be between them. And for this reason my friends, is why you will see me wearing a sports bra until I'm 90.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Breaking the seal
I think I was 15 or 16 when I started my "Doodle Book." It was mostly poetry and maybe a short story, a very short story or two. I moved here to Texass and sort of quit writing for fun once it became my profession. So now that writing is not my profession anymore I think I'll do it again. Oh boy, hold on to your seats this is gonna be fun. Well it will be for me anyway. I think mostly I'm going to write about my years growing up, my life now, friends, work and family. They always say write what you know, so there you go.
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