Barely holding on

Things I have imagined myself doing to This Work Week if it were a person:

– Shivving it in the neck (by also imagining I was in prison)

– Making it cry by saying nobody likes it

– Telling it I’ve been wishing it dead since 8:31 a.m. Monday morning

– Not inviting it to my party

– Ignoring all its pleas for attention

– Crank-calling it at midnight

– Choosing it last during recess

– Washing its cotton sweaters in hot water

– Not telling it that it has spinach in its teeth

– Replacing its coffee with decaf

– Not answering its phone calls

– Punching it in the throat

Goofy Google searches – part IV

It’s that time again!

“Stinky cat poop pudding”

Don’t knock it; it’s only got 35 calories.

“Knit my child a tank”

I hope they meant a tank top, because otherwise how disappointed is that kid going to be when his G.I. Joe has to ride around in a knitted army toy?

“Do mice hoard d con pellets”

What else are they going to throw into the pot during their weekly poker games in our garage?

“Shauna’s boobs”

404 Error – Not found

“All granny panty”

Not all, some. Especially on laundry day.

“Mathematical equation stitching on a baseball”

This is probably from Tessie or Swistle. Oh, those math nerds!

“Where to find small jello moles”

They meant “molds,” right? Because otherwise I think I know what’s living underneath our front yard: In a world, where evil comes out only at night…to feast on human flesh…it’s the JELLO MOLE!!!

“Sport jacket peanut butter leather”

The follow-up search: “Why thousands deer attracted to jacket?”

“I hit my head on a burger king lamp”

HA HA HA HAHAHAHHA. Sorry. I say you sue that Burger King mascot. He totally deserves it. I can even recommend some lawyers: Wendy and Jimmy John MacDonalds. And their paralegal, Taco John Whitecastle.

“Science Friday junior high school experiments root beer”

You should hang out with us on a Friday night. Because we get wild and crazy and try to see how many marshmallows we can fit into our mouths at once, and we also perform root beer taste tests. Oh, the shenanigans!

“Rib cartilage falls off”

This happened to Jason. It was weird and unexplainable. Also: painful.

Goofy Google searches – part III

Well, it’s that time of the day during that time of the week where I adopt the attitude of a cranky teenager. Any work requests made of me are met with drawn-out sighs and eye rolls, along with deep-suffering moans to infer the great tragedy that I have to DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE – GOD.

I’m kidding. Kind of. Try to give me some work and see what happens!

Anyway, enjoy the latest installment of weird searches that led people to this site.

“How many dimes make up one mole”

I don’t know, but our front yard (hopefully) contains a dead mole somewhere within its bowels. And we spent approximately 356 dimes to (hopefully) accomplish this. By the way, the whole “killing moles by burying Juicy Fruit” trick? Doesn’t work. Am out 36 dimes.

“My upper lip is tingling”

This happens to me about once every 2 months. I don’t know what causes it, but I annoy Jason by making him describe play-by-play style how fat my lip is becoming.

“I hate joe buck”

Me too, mystery person…me too. If you’re considering a career change, may I suggest sports broadcasting? There appears to be a shortage of good talent, as Joe Buck is being employed to broadcast both football and baseball games. And someone thought hiring Tony Kornheiser was a good idea as well. Seriously, sports broadcasting – look into it.

“School sports torch ceremony girls pictures”
So, someone’s trying to see if I actually carried the Olympic torch, huh? Listen, if you ever do find a picture, SEND IT TO ME. Mainly so I can gloat about it.

“Crack you are empty”

And Heroin, you are running low!

“Knit patterns for dropkick murphys”

We just saw these guys in concert and there was a guy there wearing a knitted hat and a bona-fide kilt. And I silently prayed, “Please don’t let this guy crowd-surf.”

“Removes my eye with her fingernail”

They must go to my eye doctor.

“Bacon on shower walls”

Now there’s a way to get me up earlier in the mornings. Mmmm…bacon shower.

“Justin morneau lung”

Let’s see. I’m going to be naughty and perform a google search on a baseball MVP and his body part. But which player and which body part? “A-Rod’s spleen?” “Manny’s Appendix?” “Clemens’ Gall Bladder?” Oh wait, I’ve got it: “Justin Morneau Lung.”

“Slow flush toilet blue tablet”

Here’s how you fix that problem:

Step 1: Swear at toilet.
Step 2: Swear at blue tablet.
Step 3: Remove blue tablet.
Step 4: Swear at mess left by blue tablet.
Step 5: Flush.
Step 6: Repeat Step 5.
Step 7: Call husband joyously after toilet works.

Goofy Google searches – Part II

More goofy searches that led people to this site.

“Can’t hear after sneezing”

I’m sorry – what? I just sneezed. (Seriously, though – can you imagine? That must be some serious sneezing.)

“Metallica wedding”

We were this close to having a Metallica song for the sand ceremony. (It would’ve been classy – “Enter Sandman” played by Harptallica.)

“Ideal jeopardy categories”

We talk about this a lot while getting our butts kicked during Buffalo Wild Wings trivia.

Today’s ideal categories:
– X-Files
– Charlie Sheen Movies
– Is this Gary Busey or Nick Nolte?
– Fantasy Football Players That Will Have Huge Weeks After Shauna Drops Them From Her Team
– Stephen King Books
– Stalking Habits of House Centipedes

“Pickles dimes middle name”

It’s “&.”


“Soup starter discontinued”

It’s actually not discontinued, just repackaged under a difference parent company. Unlike Chewels, whose untimely passing I mourn every day.

“Dollop tumor”

At first I thought, “There’s NO way they found this site with that search.” Then I remembered this entry.

“Buy heart shaped pickles”

Perfect for Valentine’s Day! (“Dear Honey, I love you now and always will, so here’s a jar of Kosher Dills.”)

Goofy Google searches – Part I

More strange searches that led people to this site:

“Lohan burger”

They should totally market burgers with busted celebrity mug shots on the wrapper. “Would you like fries with your Nolte Burger, sir?”

“Tuberculosis twins”

I had two former coworkers who were perhaps the most germ-riddled individuals I’ve ever seen. What’s worse, they were best friends, and I assume they just kept swapping their diseases back and forth for eternity, or until one of them finally succumbed to her constant coughing by horfing up her left lung.

“Sexy asthma”

HA HA HAHAHAH. Ask Jason how sexy this is, when in the middle of kissing him, I have to go run to use my inhaler. On second thought, I could totally parlay this into some cheesy notion that “he takes my breath away.” Yes, that’s it.

“Where do you meet players metrodome”

I don’t know, but I would love to meet Pat Neshek, who totally kicks ass; or Justin Morneau, who eats constantly at Jimmy John’s; or Michael Cuddyer, whom I lovingly refer to as “Eye Candy.”

“Cannibalistic goldfish”

Our 25-cent goldfish are gigantic. I mean, really – they’re HUGE. And when one of the original fish started to not be as lively, if you know what I mean, the rest of them started gnawing on him. It was disgusting, and when we decided to flush the fish down the toilet, even though it was still technically alive, I made Jason flush the toilet again approximately 230948098 times. I already have to keep vigilant about the house centipedes; like I need to worry about vengeful goldfish.

“How to shut up bully coworker”

I recommend lots of sarcastic comments at their expense. Seriously. Bullies are not smart and they don’t expect anyone to fight back. If that doesn’t work? Duct tape.

“Rocklahoma review rhino bucket”

Oh, poor Jason. He wanted to go to Rocklahoma so very bad. And it didn’t help that by listening to Dee Snider’s “House of Hair,” he kept hearing how awesome Rocklahoma was. He was very sad, starring in his own version of an informercial: “For just pennies a day, this man’s spirit could be uplifted by classic 80s heavy metal music. Won’t you help?” [cue teardrop]

Bittersweet symphony

Brain, tapping conductor stick: All right, everyone. Places! Let’s practice this piece one more time.

Legs: Um…were we always this long, or did these pants shrink?

Ankles: Yeah, we’re not used to being seen by the public.

Eyes, snorting: Yeah, those white socks look smokin’ with those jeans.

Brain: Quiet! Let’s take it from the top. Creativity, you come in hard and heavy and Sense of Humor, you enter three measures later, but keep it pianissimo, OK?

Sense of Humor: Got it.

Brain: 2, 3, 4…

[general music/life functions]

Stomach: [growls loudly]

Brain: Stop, stop, stop. Stomach – what the hell, man?

Stomach: I’m hungry. And I lost count because the cramps came in waaay too early.

Uterus: Sorry.

Brain: Let’s try this again. Stomach, you actually don’t have a part in this. Basically, you have a 4-hour rest.

Stomach: Look, the last time I checked, we don’t have a lot of songs that feature stomach growls.

Feet: Thank god. You’re always out of tune anyway.

Stomach: I think I would be doing this orchestra a disservice if I didn’t play the hell out of this.

Brain: Look, just go get some leftover rice-a-roni and shut it.

Stomach: [sulks]

Uterus: What about me?

Brain: You can’t keep the beat. Go hang out with Aleve and Bruce Dickinson next door.

I fought the yarn and the yarn won

Remember that scarf I talked about? The one that I had restarted 12 times and once hacked to pieces with a scissors, so great was my rage at messing it up YET AGAIN?

Here’s what it looks like.


This photo was taken one day before I messed it up. So then I started over, concentrating like never before on this pattern, ignoring my husband, work, life in general. And I got well past the mess-up-point on my new attempt.

And then I managed to mess it up AGAIN. There was no rage this time. Just a mood that could be described as “sad” and “depressed” and “sad.”

So I’m taking yet another hiatus from it, and will have to buy another skein of yarn because there’s not enough yarn left to make a full scarf. And I have Friday and Monday off, and you can bet I’ll be mouth-breathing my way through this pattern, locked in a room, until I finish it.

Pray for me.

Anyway, here’s some things I’ve completed lately. These projects are also proof that I need to learn how to use circular needles because I don’t get the whole “invisible seaming” concept.



My iPod cozy. Notice that the seam is the exact opposite of invisible, and instead, is proudly flaunting itself along the sides. Also, I don’t know why I chose purple yarn. Or added letter beads to spell out what’s inside. It’s not like my dresser’s a haven for thousands of purple, yarny, seam-sticking-out monstrosities.



Here’s a hat I made for Jason. I choose these colors because I thought they would be perfect for his trip back to 1976. It was my first time working with more than one color and it was so easy, I wish I would’ve tried it earlier. Also, the seam is actually invisible, until Jason puts the hat on his head, then it becomes a giant billboard announcing my failure as an invisible seamer.

In neon, avocado-green letters.

Love list

Inspired by She Likes Purple, a list of things I love (her only rule is that you can’t list your significant other, kids or pets):

I love waking up to realize I can still sleep for another three hours. I love wearing my spring coat for the first time in six months. I love mowing the lawn and then sitting outside on the steps with a cold can of pop to survey my handiwork and compare it to our neighbors. I love throwing on my robe on a chilly morning. I love figuring out which spot to pet on a cat to make it purr. I love cracking open a new book. I love grabbing an oversized blanket for a nap on the couch. I love opening a new jar of peanut butter and inhaling deeply, and then using a knife to draw a heart into its creamy, unblemished surface. I love giving the rabbits in our yard human names like Carl and Harold, and seeing how close I can get to them before they bolt back underneath our deck. I love rifling through my bird book to identify our backyard visitors. I love new ultra-fine Sharpies. I love knowing that I have three birthday presents already sitting on my dresser, waiting to be opened, and that I finally, at age 33, have the willpower to wait until my actual birthday to open them. I LOVE spicy garlic buffalo wings and potato slices with melted cheddar cheese, dipped in sour cream. I love the hopefulness I feel during the first frame of bowling. I love a hot, steaming bowl of clam chowder. I love watching my lava lamp at work send up its first red bubbles. I love surfing Etsy for unique rings with green stones. I love looking at Caspar David Friedrich’s art. I love daydreaming about the no-kill animal shelter I would open when I win the lottery. I love shopping by myself, with all the time in the world, heading into the dressing room with an armload of items. I love sitting in a quiet room where I can hear the clock ticking. I love browsing through thrift stores for funky lamps and tin signs and necklaces. I love keeping score at baseball games. I love reading about interesting forensic cases. I love Marlene Dietrich movies and how black and white film and the right lighting makes everything glamorous. I love looking through my magazines for images to put up on my “inspiration board.” I love mini-donuts, and become giddy like a child when I see a stand at a fair or ball game or street festival. I love having a steady hand when I give myself a pedicure. I love taking pictures of my flowers, especially daisies and the scraggly rosebush that is 90% dead, yet still produces magnificent flowers. I love planning my outfit for the day around a single color in a ring. I love the moment when I put my car into park in an automatic car wash. I love swapping my winter clothes for summer clothes. I love going camping and sleeping under the stars and hearing other campfires crackle softly while the crickets chirp under the moonlight. I love walking to the farmers’ market on my lunch hour, picking out fresh-cut flowers. I love having the time to cook an honest-to-god home-cooked meal. I love curling up on the couch with a bowl of buttery popcorn and an unopened can of Mt. Dew. I love treating myself to Twinkies, Oreos and 3 Musketeers bars. I love planting my spring flowers, using the money we collected from our spare change throughout the year. I love getting email notifications that my online order has shipped. I love plain yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I love to eat vanilla pudding pops while I’m outside on our bench watching the squirrels bury things into our flower barrels. I love watching birds drink out of the puddles left by our sprinkler as they hop to avoid the spray. I love lighting candles that smell just like they claim. I love that moment camping when the tent is pitched, the fire is going, and I’ve got zero responsibility for the next two days. I love closing my eyes and listening to the sound of the surf, and how the wind rustling through the trees sounds the same way.

EDITED TO ADD: And bacon. Oh my god, how did I forget bacon?!? I LOVE BACON!

Your online blog entry has shipped

I’m not much of an online shopper, but this week I’ve spent $1,730 on online purchases. (Can you tell I received my tax refund?) Anyway, after mail-in rebates and reimbursement of my work-related purchases, the total will only be $1,400. That’s SO MUCH better.

What did I buy? Well, Sharpies. Yep, I bought markers. In 24 colors. Why? Well, for scrapbooking and for work because people keep STEALING them. I think it should be a rule that only the editor can use red markers to edit something; I hate getting something that the account manager has already marked up in red, because then I’m forced to edit in another color, which is great, but since everyone STEALS my markers, I’m usually forced to use pastel pink or mustard yellow because of the STEALERS. Now I’m going to be forced to lick all of my pens before I set them out on my desk.

I also had to buy the latest edition of the Chicago Manual of Style for work. My boss (the one I confront on a monthly basis) suggested we use that for our internal guidelines rather than continuing to use the AP Stylebook that we’ve used for the past 28 years. (I totally prefer the AP Stylebook over the CMS – begone, stupid serial comma!) Plus, my boss only suggested the CMS after the president and I said we both preferred the AP Stylebook. Control freak. So I spent $207 on six copies, five of which will never be used.

And then I also bought an iMac and a printer. And I am not obsessed with them arriving at all. (The printer is in Pennsylvania and the computer is in California, and I have tomorrow and Monday off, and it’s totally reasonable to want to drive out to meet the FedEx truck halfway, right?)

Hey, hey, TMJ, how many jaws have you popped today?

Jason has an appointment at the Facial Pain Center (there’s some descriptive business naming right there) for his jaw-popping problem, and we’ve been on the phone with our insurance company numerous times to make sure the $400 consultation will be covered. Every time, we get vaguely the same information, only with pertinent details omitted: “Yep, you only have a $30 copay and everything is covered.” “Are there any exclusions?” “Nope.” “How about dental appliances?” “Oh, yeah, those aren’t covered at all.” “COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE MENTIONED THAT WHEN I ASKED ABOUT EXCLUSIONS?”

Jeez. I’ve called 3 times already, and I’m still paranoid enough about their false information that I plan on calling again tomorrow.

Anyway, today I called to get the name of the dentist Jason was meeting with to see if they were in our network. The receptionist was gargling with marbles, so I wrote down the name as “Dr. Cod [Last name].” And then I hung up without verifying, and tried to find Dr. Cod online. No luck. And then a little 10-watt light bulb shattered in my brain and I Googled “Dr. Todd [Last name].”

Yep, it was Dr. Todd. Not Dr. Cod.

That’s too bad.


We took Abby to the vet on Friday. We can’t put her in a carrier anymore due to her horrible, horrible anxiety, so we’ve been putting a collar and leash on her instead. It calms her down considerably, but still results in her huddling in the rear window of the car, meowing repeatedly and miserably at top volume to other cars while shedding the equivalent of Robin Williams’ back hair.

This time though, after getting her into the car, she immediately clambered onto my lap where she sat quietly, without meowing, the entire drive to the vet.

It was spooky. Especially when this behavior was repeated on the way home, after she had received two vaccinations, got her claws trimmed, and had TWO blood draws. I think she was plotting.

The vet wanted to schedule a visit to clean Abby’s teeth, but I am resistant to that idea because 1) she only has two teeth that have plaque, and 2) she is getting old, and I am worried about the effects of anesthesia on her because 3) one time I gave her a vet-prescribed pill to calm her down when traveling from Fargo to Minneapolis and after letting her out in the new apartment, she immediately jumped to the top of the refrigerator, where I caught her staggering drunkenly, about to totter off the edge.

So… has anyone ever gotten their cats’ teeth cleaned? Yay or nay?