Chuckle #431 | November 24th, 2010
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I really thought I was moving up the decorating food chain the day I installed cushy, expensive wall to wall carpet in my bedroom. A sea of pale green luxury beneath my feet, and most importantly, warm toes. So classy, I said to myself.
A mere 3 years later I hated that carpet with all my soul. There is a reason why carpet cleaning products abound and carpet cleaning businesses thrive…it’s because carpet is a filth collector. Wall-to-wall is a man-made mite and dirt magnet that cannot be cleaned to any socially acceptable standards, (even my own relatively low ones.)
Not to mention the fact that super magnified pictures of dust mites really freak me out.
Dust mites thrive in an area where it's about 77 degrees, and the relative humidity is 75 percent. Their ideal habitat is a fully-carpeted room. (Hint: do not carpet the bathroom.) Yet the mite itself is not the problem, though they are seriously ugly little 8-legged arachnids. It’s their POOP - which they generate by eating bits of our dead skin. From our carpets.
Grossed out yet?
What really bothers me is that for almost the same price, I could have installed hardwood in my bedroom and saved myself from a decade of steam cleaner rental, frantic calls to the carpet stain removal guys, and the purchase of endless vats of Carpet “Fresh” and Pet “Fresh.” (“Fresh” meaning “laden with toxic chemicals.”)
None of the above, including intensive vacuuming had any visible effect on the dirt / dog hair / mite-poop buildup on my carpet. No matter what we did, that carpet looked DIRTY.
What bothers me even more is that I did this to myself; I chose carpet over hardwood in the first place.
Finally, after 10 years of punishing myself, I’ve ripped up the wall-to-wall and installed beautiful ebony-stained hardwood. It looks awesome. And yes, I still have to vacuum, but I’ll take a few dust bunnies and dog hair tumbleweeds over 100 billion dust mites any day.
Now when the dog barfs I’m no longer faced with a 6 hour barf scraping de-staining project. Red wine spills…no problem. Coffee sloshes…bring it on. All I need is a roll of paper towels. Thanks to my new hardwood floor, I’m in stanky stain heaven. Maybe I should be embarrassed to admit that, but I’m not.
My carpet is gone and I’ve never been happier. So what if I have to wear socks in my room. So what if I have no-one to eat my dead skin bits and have to vacuum them up myself. It’s such a teeny tiny price to pay.
Of course it would have been a much teenier price if I had just put the hardwood floor in to begin with.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, USA
Inside the Floundering Fortune Cookie Industry
Chuckle #430 | November 17th, 2010
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I fully expect that one hour after eating Chinese food, I will be hungry. But what I don’t expect at the end of my meal is a LAME fortune. And that’s exactly what I’ve been getting lately. Take-out has never been so disappointing.
I used to be able to make major life decisions based on my fortune. New jobs, marriage, pregnancy, you name it, all came about because of 5 oracular words inside a (let’s be honest) not-so-tasty cookie. Nowadays fortune cookies seem to be filled with gimmicky feel good sayings that have no bearing on life, death, success or love.
Yet another reason to miss the ‘90s.
The superficial platitudes being passed off as “fortunes” today are an embarrassment to Sun Tzu, Confucius and the billion other people who live in China. For example…
- The more baths you take, the cleaner you will be.
- The road to happiness is paved with good deeds.
- Open your door to good fortune.
Obviously the Chinese are too focused on WORLD DOMINATION to write a decent fortune anymore. What happened to the art of abstruseness? Where is the inscrutable Chinese mind?
Fortunately, before I actually published this column I learned that fortune cookies are NOT actually Chinese. (Oops.)
Fortune cookies are Japanese in origin and manufactured solely in America. In fact, Wonton Foods (a second generation American company based in Brooklyn and run by guys with heavy Chinese accents and a database of 10,000 so-called “fortunes”) tried to export the idea to China, but the Chinese rejected them as being “too American”. Meanwhile, 300 million Americans are convinced that the fortune cookie is totally Chinese. That’s just weird.
But the discovery of incontrovertible facts does not change my desire to have my faux wisdom served up in deep, meaningful, and preferably poetic, prose. AND I want my fortunes to be as cryptic as possible. It's more intellectually challenging. Fortunes should read more like this…
- The chrysanthemum that blooms in fall is like the duck that swims in winter.
- A choice between two demons may be not a choice, but a punishment.
- Make every Tuesday sexy panty day.
- The sun may choose to shine on a single blade of grass.
That’s what I’m talking about! I’m more than happy to upgrade my panties, but what the hell does that really mean?! And why Tuesday? Do you see what I’m getting at? We need to get back to the way fortunes were meant to be written, enigmatically, like Haiku. (Yes, another deceptively simple Japanese art form with subtle, hidden meaning.)
Stop complaining, you say – it’s JUST a fortune cookie? Switch to horoscopes? I think not. The ‘fortune’ is king. Horoscopes are for needy people who require way too much direction in their lives. Fortunes are for people who can make a leap of faith from 5 fathomless words written in supposedly “food safe” ink on a tiny slip of paper.
Fortunes are for the bold.
I once thought that I would make a great “greeting card” writer. But now I have a better idea. I’m turning my dubious talents to the fortune industry, which is clearly in distress.
In my humble opinion, fortune cookie prophesies should…
• Have more sexual innuendo. (That goes over the kids’ heads but not mom & dads.)
• Be completely incomprehensible so that they can be interpreted however we want, like tea leaves.
• Have lots of typos so they seem more authentically Chinese, even though they are not.
• Be dipped in chocolate.
Anyone with me?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, USA
scroll down to leave a comment
I fully expect that one hour after eating Chinese food, I will be hungry. But what I don’t expect at the end of my meal is a LAME fortune. And that’s exactly what I’ve been getting lately. Take-out has never been so disappointing.
I used to be able to make major life decisions based on my fortune. New jobs, marriage, pregnancy, you name it, all came about because of 5 oracular words inside a (let’s be honest) not-so-tasty cookie. Nowadays fortune cookies seem to be filled with gimmicky feel good sayings that have no bearing on life, death, success or love.
Yet another reason to miss the ‘90s.
The superficial platitudes being passed off as “fortunes” today are an embarrassment to Sun Tzu, Confucius and the billion other people who live in China. For example…
- The more baths you take, the cleaner you will be.
- The road to happiness is paved with good deeds.
- Open your door to good fortune.
Obviously the Chinese are too focused on WORLD DOMINATION to write a decent fortune anymore. What happened to the art of abstruseness? Where is the inscrutable Chinese mind?
Fortunately, before I actually published this column I learned that fortune cookies are NOT actually Chinese. (Oops.)
Fortune cookies are Japanese in origin and manufactured solely in America. In fact, Wonton Foods (a second generation American company based in Brooklyn and run by guys with heavy Chinese accents and a database of 10,000 so-called “fortunes”) tried to export the idea to China, but the Chinese rejected them as being “too American”. Meanwhile, 300 million Americans are convinced that the fortune cookie is totally Chinese. That’s just weird.
But the discovery of incontrovertible facts does not change my desire to have my faux wisdom served up in deep, meaningful, and preferably poetic, prose. AND I want my fortunes to be as cryptic as possible. It's more intellectually challenging. Fortunes should read more like this…
- The chrysanthemum that blooms in fall is like the duck that swims in winter.
- A choice between two demons may be not a choice, but a punishment.
- Make every Tuesday sexy panty day.
- The sun may choose to shine on a single blade of grass.
That’s what I’m talking about! I’m more than happy to upgrade my panties, but what the hell does that really mean?! And why Tuesday? Do you see what I’m getting at? We need to get back to the way fortunes were meant to be written, enigmatically, like Haiku. (Yes, another deceptively simple Japanese art form with subtle, hidden meaning.)
Stop complaining, you say – it’s JUST a fortune cookie? Switch to horoscopes? I think not. The ‘fortune’ is king. Horoscopes are for needy people who require way too much direction in their lives. Fortunes are for people who can make a leap of faith from 5 fathomless words written in supposedly “food safe” ink on a tiny slip of paper.
Fortunes are for the bold.
I once thought that I would make a great “greeting card” writer. But now I have a better idea. I’m turning my dubious talents to the fortune industry, which is clearly in distress.
In my humble opinion, fortune cookie prophesies should…
• Have more sexual innuendo. (That goes over the kids’ heads but not mom & dads.)
• Be completely incomprehensible so that they can be interpreted however we want, like tea leaves.
• Have lots of typos so they seem more authentically Chinese, even though they are not.
• Be dipped in chocolate.
Anyone with me?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, USA
Hungry Or Bored?
Chuckle #429 | November 10th, 2010
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I should be able to tell whether I’m hungry or simply bored, but that fine distinction often eludes me. Especially when there are vats of leftover Halloween candy scattered around the house. Twix and Heath bars call to me like last season’s peasant skirt on the clearance rack at Marshalls. It is not physically possible for me to simply walk on by. Skirt or candy.
Sugar makes me surly but I can’t stop indulging. My face is an unsightly mass of chocolate induced blotches, but put the Hershey’s bar down? Not a chance. The Chocolate Goddess has me in her thrall. Cocoa is after all, a drug of sorts. Why else would we crave it so much?
I begged my kids to donate their Halloween loot days ago, to no avail. Shouldn’t a more deserving family have the opportunity to pack on the pounds, ruin their complexions and rot their teeth? I certainly think so.
I eat the Halloween candy not because I am hypoglycemic (which is one of my more creative excuses) but because it is THERE. Hunger has absolutely nothing to do with my chocolate consumption. Even the kids now know better than to leave for school and leave their candy anywhere near mom.
But my problems go well beyond the short-lived temptations of Halloween.
My pantry is perpetually stocked with the snacks necessary to satisfy three kids and a voracious husband. How is a woman supposed to eat egg whites when hot dogs and cheese are so plentiful? As a mother, I have to meet the needs of my family - don’t I? Given the variety and quantity of food available for my snacking pleasure, I doubt I’ll have the chance to experience real “hunger” for years.
Sure, I occasionally utter the words, “Boy am I starving!” But by pot-bellied African children standards, that’s a gross exaggeration. In my case, “starving” usually means that I skipped my third cup of coffee or my 5PM pre-dinner bag of cheese corn. Not exactly the stuff of hardship.
Yeah, I’m a snacker. I pretty much snack all day long, starting with a handful of cereal at 7AM, a muffin at 8:30, then a brownie at 10. After 11 or so I start to debate whether I should have a mid-morning 2nd breakfast, or wait a bit and have a proper lunch.
In the afternoon all hell breaks loose because I have NO RULES, NO LIMITS, and from what I can tell, NO SELF RESPECT.
In fact, at this very moment there’s a Hundred Thousand Dollar bar SHOUTING my name – from a Ziploc bag stuffed in the back of a cabinet that I can’t reach without a stool. And I’m willing to bet you 8 pounds of leftover Halloween candy that it won’t be there when my kids get home from school.
I’m not saying it’s a healthy way to eat, but it’s what I do.
Actually, the "experts" say this approach is healthy. Nutritionists claim that “grazing” is best. (As long as the “grazing” isn’t primarily on Halloween candy and Brie). We’ve been told that rather than consuming three super-sized meals each day, it’s better to stare at the contents of the pantry 20 times a day; wonder what you “feel” like eating; then grab a few pita chips or a handful of nuts. Like me.
My “Snacker Diet” would be cutting edge if it didn’t consist primarily of sugar and caffeine.
And I take it back. I have rules. They just don’t kick in until the kids get home…
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT
scroll down to leave a comment
I should be able to tell whether I’m hungry or simply bored, but that fine distinction often eludes me. Especially when there are vats of leftover Halloween candy scattered around the house. Twix and Heath bars call to me like last season’s peasant skirt on the clearance rack at Marshalls. It is not physically possible for me to simply walk on by. Skirt or candy.
Sugar makes me surly but I can’t stop indulging. My face is an unsightly mass of chocolate induced blotches, but put the Hershey’s bar down? Not a chance. The Chocolate Goddess has me in her thrall. Cocoa is after all, a drug of sorts. Why else would we crave it so much?
I begged my kids to donate their Halloween loot days ago, to no avail. Shouldn’t a more deserving family have the opportunity to pack on the pounds, ruin their complexions and rot their teeth? I certainly think so.
I eat the Halloween candy not because I am hypoglycemic (which is one of my more creative excuses) but because it is THERE. Hunger has absolutely nothing to do with my chocolate consumption. Even the kids now know better than to leave for school and leave their candy anywhere near mom.
But my problems go well beyond the short-lived temptations of Halloween.
My pantry is perpetually stocked with the snacks necessary to satisfy three kids and a voracious husband. How is a woman supposed to eat egg whites when hot dogs and cheese are so plentiful? As a mother, I have to meet the needs of my family - don’t I? Given the variety and quantity of food available for my snacking pleasure, I doubt I’ll have the chance to experience real “hunger” for years.
Sure, I occasionally utter the words, “Boy am I starving!” But by pot-bellied African children standards, that’s a gross exaggeration. In my case, “starving” usually means that I skipped my third cup of coffee or my 5PM pre-dinner bag of cheese corn. Not exactly the stuff of hardship.
Yeah, I’m a snacker. I pretty much snack all day long, starting with a handful of cereal at 7AM, a muffin at 8:30, then a brownie at 10. After 11 or so I start to debate whether I should have a mid-morning 2nd breakfast, or wait a bit and have a proper lunch.
In the afternoon all hell breaks loose because I have NO RULES, NO LIMITS, and from what I can tell, NO SELF RESPECT.
In fact, at this very moment there’s a Hundred Thousand Dollar bar SHOUTING my name – from a Ziploc bag stuffed in the back of a cabinet that I can’t reach without a stool. And I’m willing to bet you 8 pounds of leftover Halloween candy that it won’t be there when my kids get home from school.
I’m not saying it’s a healthy way to eat, but it’s what I do.
Actually, the "experts" say this approach is healthy. Nutritionists claim that “grazing” is best. (As long as the “grazing” isn’t primarily on Halloween candy and Brie). We’ve been told that rather than consuming three super-sized meals each day, it’s better to stare at the contents of the pantry 20 times a day; wonder what you “feel” like eating; then grab a few pita chips or a handful of nuts. Like me.
My “Snacker Diet” would be cutting edge if it didn’t consist primarily of sugar and caffeine.
And I take it back. I have rules. They just don’t kick in until the kids get home…
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT
One Woman, One Vote, & 257 Oversized Political Postcards
Chuckle #428 | November 3rd, 2010
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Because I kept my maiden name, and because my husband and I are both registered to vote, we receive TWO copies of every political mailing. If there ever was a good reason to take your husband’s name, this would be it. My recycling bin is simply not big enough to handle this much political discourse AND the early holiday catalogues.
On the other hand, some of this propaganda has excellent entertainment value.
My favorite mailings are the ones where candidates have clearly tried to make their opponent look really unlikeable by using the most unflattering photos they can find off the internet. The best graphic designers can then realistically Photoshop in chain link fence backgrounds and pet Pit Bulls. It’s really quite remarkable.
And it's all done in the name of democracy.
By the time you read this, Election Day will have come and gone, and you, like me, will have recycled that 40 gallon bin full of diatribe and vitriol and cast your vote for the person who has annoyed you the least during the last 6 months.
This process of figuring out who to vote for takes a lot of effort. Reviewing candidates’ positions, visiting factcheck.org, and reading the League of Women Voter’s “Voter Guide” is time consuming. I can see why people sometimes take the easy way out and simply vote along party lines, or for their favorite pundit’s candidates. I totally understand. Participating in Democracy is easy; doing it with intelligence is really hard work.
So when I can’t decide between two candidates, or it doesn’t seem to matter who I pick, I choose the person who parts their hair on the left…like me.
At least I have a system.
Just so you know where I am coming from, I’m one of those “unaffiliated” swing voters who’s become so disillusioned with our two party system that I’ve been actively seeking a more moderate, normal third party to call my own.
My intensive research and deep soul searching has let me to the Modern Whig Party, to which I have now given permission to send me email. I have single-handedly broadened their base to include disaffected stay-at-home suburban moms who are deeply concerned about the state of our great nation, but are too busy arranging carpools to do much about it.
They say they are happy to have me, despite my limitations.
The Modern Whigs are moderates who believe in fiscal responsibility and social tolerance; the defense of our nation, and the need for US supremacy in renewable energy and education. The founding members are veterans of the Iraq and Afghan wars, and are therefore well acquainted with the M16.
Good friends to have as 2012 approaches.
The real reason I joined the party is because they have the best slogan ever, “Whig Out!” (and partly because I’ve always had a “thing” for Lincoln.)
While I’m psyched about my new party, I’m feeling subdued this election year. The euphoria is gone and all I’ve got left is political ennui and mistrust. Do you feel it too?
If you’ve got my political symptoms, and you think there could be some truth to the Mayan rumors of apocalypse in 2012, then the Modern Whigs might be right for you. At the very least they can teach you how to shoot that sawed-off shotgun.
According to the experts, the next few years are going to be all about survival.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT
scroll down to leave a comment
Because I kept my maiden name, and because my husband and I are both registered to vote, we receive TWO copies of every political mailing. If there ever was a good reason to take your husband’s name, this would be it. My recycling bin is simply not big enough to handle this much political discourse AND the early holiday catalogues.
On the other hand, some of this propaganda has excellent entertainment value.
My favorite mailings are the ones where candidates have clearly tried to make their opponent look really unlikeable by using the most unflattering photos they can find off the internet. The best graphic designers can then realistically Photoshop in chain link fence backgrounds and pet Pit Bulls. It’s really quite remarkable.
And it's all done in the name of democracy.
By the time you read this, Election Day will have come and gone, and you, like me, will have recycled that 40 gallon bin full of diatribe and vitriol and cast your vote for the person who has annoyed you the least during the last 6 months.
This process of figuring out who to vote for takes a lot of effort. Reviewing candidates’ positions, visiting factcheck.org, and reading the League of Women Voter’s “Voter Guide” is time consuming. I can see why people sometimes take the easy way out and simply vote along party lines, or for their favorite pundit’s candidates. I totally understand. Participating in Democracy is easy; doing it with intelligence is really hard work.
So when I can’t decide between two candidates, or it doesn’t seem to matter who I pick, I choose the person who parts their hair on the left…like me.
At least I have a system.
Just so you know where I am coming from, I’m one of those “unaffiliated” swing voters who’s become so disillusioned with our two party system that I’ve been actively seeking a more moderate, normal third party to call my own.
My intensive research and deep soul searching has let me to the Modern Whig Party, to which I have now given permission to send me email. I have single-handedly broadened their base to include disaffected stay-at-home suburban moms who are deeply concerned about the state of our great nation, but are too busy arranging carpools to do much about it.
They say they are happy to have me, despite my limitations.
The Modern Whigs are moderates who believe in fiscal responsibility and social tolerance; the defense of our nation, and the need for US supremacy in renewable energy and education. The founding members are veterans of the Iraq and Afghan wars, and are therefore well acquainted with the M16.
Good friends to have as 2012 approaches.
The real reason I joined the party is because they have the best slogan ever, “Whig Out!” (and partly because I’ve always had a “thing” for Lincoln.)
While I’m psyched about my new party, I’m feeling subdued this election year. The euphoria is gone and all I’ve got left is political ennui and mistrust. Do you feel it too?
If you’ve got my political symptoms, and you think there could be some truth to the Mayan rumors of apocalypse in 2012, then the Modern Whigs might be right for you. At the very least they can teach you how to shoot that sawed-off shotgun.
According to the experts, the next few years are going to be all about survival.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2010, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT
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