What if God Was One of Us? Specifically ME!

I’ve always thought of the things I would do if I were God.  I'm fairly certain I could sort the world out if given a couple of weeks of unbridled power.  So I was thinking about what I would do after of course, fixing all the disease, war, pain and suffering.  Here is my preliminary list. (Notice how beautiful and flowy my God hair is! I don't know why my breasts are crooked - nobody's perfect)

10 Things I would do if I were God:

1) Just admit that menstruation was a gamble and an epic fail.  New system implemented immediately.

2) More narwhals. 

3) When you get too old to have sex you become just like a Barbie because really, who likes old, dormant genitals?

4) Give dolphins the ability to fight back, possibly by cross breeding with narwhals - open to suggestions.

5) Salvation would be determined solely on how well you drive.  Put down the phone and use your blinker!

6) Declare an end to intolerance, starting with lactose intolerance. Its not ok.

7) Talking dogs, with the option of a non-talking dog. Whichever you prefer.

 8) David Sedaris is my official spokesman and official best friend. So basically Jesus but more hilarious. 

9) Walrus president because he would be “tusk on crime" and I think, super into the environment.

10)  One Commandment - "Don't be an asshole." I think everyone knows what that means.

What would you do if you were God?

5 Ways in Which Your Dog is Exactly Like Your Worst College Roommate.

1) He vomits on the floor and walks away.

2) She eats your food.

3) He humps your girlfriend.

4) She farts and acts like nothing happened.

5) He watches you have sex.

Reality Bites

 

When I was a girl I dreamed of becoming Grace Kelly.  I was convinced this was doable since we are both blonde, the rest was just a matter of sorting out the details.  Well, (begin resignation font) I have finally realized that try as I may, I am no Grace Kelly as evidenced by the following:

10 things I regularly say that Grace Kelly never said:

1) I think I forgot to shower today.

2) Yeah, the screw top Chardonnay is fine.

3) Flank steak on sale – Lucky Day!

4) Am I the ONLY person in this house who can change out a toilet roll?

5) Sorry about last night. I was wasted.

6) To my husband: “Don’t use the soap in the shower! Its my expensive department store soap. I got you some Irish Spring.”

7) If that’s how you want to play it, then you can suck my d%$#!

8) I just consumed the better part of a large pizza!

9) I killed it at Tae Bo today!

10) Pull my finger.

Maybe I still have a shot at being Princess Stephanie?

That Little Voice Inside Your Head

You  know how sometimes you are doing something and you hear a little voice in your head saying “mmmmm, maybe not the best idea Einstein” and then you ignore that voice because clearly, you are not Einstein?  Well, this is a mixed cautionary tale for those of you who hear voices.  Exhibit 1:

I call this “Paw vs. Broken Light Bulb”. 

Obvioulsy I was not the victor.  I was trying to take a little initiative and clean the exterior light fixtures, one of which had a broken blub.  I saw it and said “hmmm, that could be dangerous” but then I thought “I don’t want to take that out now and then have to walk alllll the way into the house to throw it away.  Besides, I’m just going to clean the outside of the fixture so what could go wrong?”  Well for one,  old blondie here could suddenly decide to clean the inside of the fixture blissfully forgetting the bulb. 

The kids heard the streak of blue streaming from my mouth and wisely made themselves scarce.  It was pretty nasty, so I cleaned and bandaged it up and hoped for the best.  Anyway, despite my best self- nursing care, I was still bleeding like a stuck pig so off to Right Time Urgent Care. 

As an aside, I must say, what a well run operation.  Made the appointment on the phone for 8:10 appointment, back in my car at 8:39! 

So I roll up there trying to keep my hand up to keep the bleeding down but the end result was that I looked like I was taking an oath or testifying or something.  I tell them I have an appointment and they take me right in and give me this electronic medical history pad thing to fill out. Like a Speak ‘n Spell with a touch screen. So I’m doing that with my left hand with limited success – the stylus is tricky.  Meanwhile,  a young man with badge that says PCT under his name comes in and starts cleaning my wound.  I ask what PCT stands for and he says “Patient Care Tech” – it was more impressive in letters.  Anyway, I’m joking around with him as I am wont to do in medical situations and he says to me: “So, you must be a school teacher”

Me: “Why would you think that?”

PCT:  “Because you’re really funny, so you must be either a school teacher or an actress.”

Now, I don’t know where he went to school but unless you went to clown college, I don’t exactly remember any of my teachers having hilarity as a defining characteristic (my brother is the exception to this rule). So I say “Nope, I’m just a mom” as I enter “Mom Extraordinaire” under occupation on my Patient Info screen thing. 

PCT:  “Well, you look like an actress.  You look like that hot actress in Terminator 3.”

HOLD THE PHONE – “Did you say that “hot” actress?”  He says “Yeah, in Terminator 3, can’t remember her name.”

Me: “Linda Hamilton” (which is plenty good enough for me)

PCT: “no, some other girl – Terminator 3 with Arnold.”

Me: “I have no clue but you had me at “hot actress.”  He could have been talking about the Human Centipede and I wouldn’t have minded.  I was just enjoying the term “hot” being used in conjunction with me. Turns out he was referring to Kristanna Loken, a name the Warden came up with immediately -- hmmm, here she is:

I KNOW!!  Henceforth, please replace all mental images you have of me with the image shown above!  Obviously this guy is my new favorite person for the foreseeable future – “Hot girl”.  I can live on this for yearzzzz!

Finally the PA (Physician Assistant – equally impressive in letters and words) comes in and he looks like Moby but with a kind of Michael Stipe edge to him.  I know, its totally baldist of me but truly, unless they are really fat, all bald guys look the same to me; its just are they either kind of empathic Moby or menacing Michael Stipe. So this fellow sits down and starts sewing me up and we engage in a meaningful discussion on the role of NPs and PAs in the future of healthcare mostly because if someone is putting a needle in my skin, I want to make sure they like me.  But also because healthcare and television are the only things I’m really smart at and most people don’t consider being t.v. smart, smart – so I usually go with healthcare.  

Anyway, he tells me that at 40 he made whole career change and went to school to become a PA and I told him “OMG, that’s totally what I want to do!”  Which IS totally what I want to do, but really only partially and really only if it didn’t involve too much work.  However, I did walk away totally inspired and really considering considering, taking life by the horns and becoming the funniest PA Urgent Care has ever seen.  (The medical community has really kept that bar low for me) He did give me his email if I wanted any information (wink, wink)  I don’t think he meant it THAT  way, but I can’t tell you the last time a fella gave me his 411 (I think that’s what the kids say today) so I included the winks.  But the very best part, was that when I said “Can I just take these stiches out myself?”  Not only did he say yes, buuuut he gave me my own little suture removal kit. 

Self-surgery is way less authentic when you use cuticle scissors dipped in alcohol.  

So kids, take it from me – Yes, sometimes that little voice in your head is the devil: “Yes, cut off all your hair”, “He’s not calling you because he is intimidated by you”, “No, you don’t need Spanx with that." But sometimes, when it comes to issues of health and safety, that little voice is right on so listen to it; keeping in mind that if you do, you won’t get hurt but you just might miss out on a super compliment and your very own suture removal kit.

Exhibit one in my: Everything That is Wrong With Parenting in America Today Segment.

So, there was  a TON of rain the other night and there were more emails than were necessary about whether the Little League Game would be held the next morning.  Here’s the email I received from the “team mom” – never a request for a “team dad” but that’s another post:

Hi Everyone,

The 9am game was cancelled but Brant is hopeful we can hold the 11am game if we can get the field ready.  Brant has a back injury so he needs grounds crew help from 9am--11am to get the field ready.  If you can stay after dropping off your player to help, that would be great  and will also help ensure we can play at 11am.  I'm not sure of all the details but "raking and field prep" are included.

Laura

  

So, Brant is the “Commissioner” which people totally address him as (again, another blog, another day) but I prefer to call him “The Commish” because I loved that show! By the way, I totally loved Michael Chiklis in that show and had a really hard time buying him as a badass on The Shield because he was so adorable on “the Commish”. I also love the opening of that show, such a lazy kind of bumbling song as we see this doughy, salami loving cop, who just can’t keep track of his pen.  

Watch: The Commish opening credits.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmY8h9Nrqfc 

They just don’t make tv like they used to. 

Back to Little League.  Apparently the “Commish” has indeed injured his back to the degree that we received a follow up email from our coach, who is a scientist at NIH, so it must be true.

Brant had an accident yesterday so his back is indeed hurt. Please bring a metal rake if you have one.

Thx

S-

Followed by: (subject title “Field workers Needed”)

Yes, please arrive at 10am warm-ups.  Those who can stay to help,  

Brant needs " rakes/buckets and muscles."

Thanks,

Laura

First of all, don’t like the term “field workers” it soo…manual labory.  Secondly, they need “rakes/buckets and muscles.”  Ummmm, I know the dude hurt his back, but did he also injure his rakes and buckets?  Who has buckets lying around the house?  AND we have ONE guy down and now we need to marshal the efforts of 15 adults?  What is he, Super Commish?

What really stuck in my craw and FINALLY relating back to the topic of this post, is that they expected the parents to get the field ready while the kids practiced.  Seriously? Is this what the world has come to?  How about the kids (9-12 year old boys)  get THEIR OWN field ready? Buttermaker never would have put up with this kind of nonsense.  How is this not happening every week?  The teams that have the first game get the field ready so THEY can play and enjoy the game.  When did I become an employee for my child?  I already paid nearly $400 for him to play in this league, how about the kid contributes a little sweat?  Its insanity.  There is this crazy expectation these days that I’m supposed to follow these two around like Farnsworth Bently followed Diddy  (didn’t think I could work a Diddy reference into a parenting blog did you?  Well I Diddy.)

So, in protest; because if someone doesn’t say something these people are going to take over the world; I sent this reply to ALL (this group BTW, is the owner and operator of the “I Love Reply All In Every Circumstance” page on Facebook):

Sorry to hear about Brandt.  What would really be terrific is if the boys (from both teams) could get their field ready.  This way they learn a little responsibility AND they learn how to groom a baseball field.  My husband cannot stay, but my son will help.

Yeah, my husband can’t stay to rake the field because HE WORKS LIKE A DOG ALL FREAKING WEEK! The only raking my husband will be doing on the weekend is in the sand trap!

The response was overwhelming!  Meaning whatever is quieter than crickets or the sound of one hand clapping. 

Anyway, the plot thickens (this portion is typed in Whisper font.  The previous portion was typed in Incredulity)  So we went to the game and I’m sitting there watching the game and who walks by DRAGGING trash cans full of dirt but..... (excited whisper font) The “Commish”  himself!  Yes!  It was all I could do not to stand up, point my finger and shout  "J’ACCUSE!"  Instead I took a picture because it lasts longer. 

In the end, my son tells me that he offered to help, but the Dads got the field ready so the kids could practice.  Guess what folks, (I am typing this in an totally bossy font AND all caps):

IF YOU TREAT YOUR KIDS LIKE THEY ARE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD, THEY WILL ACT LIKE THEY ARE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. THEY WILL  GROW UP TO BE ADULTS WHO THINK THEY ARE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD!  PEOPLE LIKE THIS SUCK.  DON’T RAISE PEOPLE LIKE THIS!