Just when I thought I was in, they pull me back out-- the internets are down at my house for the foreseeable future, and (other than this emergency posting), I don't like to blog at work. I'll be back as soon as I can, but to tide you over, here is a brief tidbit-- last night, I had a dream that I lived with Michael and LaToya Jackson, and LaToya had to drive me to work because I couldn't get my car to turn off, and I didn't want it to die in the work parking lot, and Michael was super mad that I had broken my car again.
Life with the Jacksons, man. It's wacky.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Whatever Works
One thing that you are told when you move: your catalogs are not coming with you. (So long, Crate and Barrel, Gump's and Victoria's Secret!) What you don't realize is that that means you inherit all the catalogs that the previous owners of your house had forfeited upon vacating (Hellooooo, Lillian Vernon!).
And apparently, the people who lived here before us accumulated quite a few mail-order friends during their 30+ years of living here-- about seventy percent of the mail we've received thus far has included glossy pages picturing birdbath cleansers, pet stairs and sassy fashions for voluptuous ladies. But my new favorite catalog of all time is one that arrived yesterday, called "Whatever Works: Garden - Home - Pest Control."
While it, too, included pet stairs (because you never want your pets feeling excluded from the events in your house that take place at a height of about two feet), it also featured a variety of items that I had no idea existed, and now cannot live without, including:
1. Onion Goggles-- safety eyewear for those who fall victim to the evil stink rays of the nefarious onion. For contact lens wearers only, apparently.
2. The Super Kegel (tm) Exerciser-- which is sort of gross? Because I thought this was a sex exercise? And I'm really disturbed, because I can't tell if we're looking at this lady's butt, or her front. But apparently, aside from giving you awesome sex skills, it also has the added benefit of improving your bladder control!
3. The Escape Hammer-- which I can't believe my dad doesn't know about, because as Safety Man, it makes no sense that he would have allowed me to go all these years without a method of breaking my car window from the inside should I be caught in quicksand or trapped with a really aggressive bee. I'm particularly enamored of the man in the illustration, who so calmly wields the hammer and uses its sharpened indentation to cut his seat belt, all while thrusting his cheekbones out.
I think my favorite thing in the world would be to encounter a situation in which all three of these implements was necessary at once-- your bladder's about to fail while trapped in a car full of half-cut onions.
And apparently, the people who lived here before us accumulated quite a few mail-order friends during their 30+ years of living here-- about seventy percent of the mail we've received thus far has included glossy pages picturing birdbath cleansers, pet stairs and sassy fashions for voluptuous ladies. But my new favorite catalog of all time is one that arrived yesterday, called "Whatever Works: Garden - Home - Pest Control."
While it, too, included pet stairs (because you never want your pets feeling excluded from the events in your house that take place at a height of about two feet), it also featured a variety of items that I had no idea existed, and now cannot live without, including:
1. Onion Goggles-- safety eyewear for those who fall victim to the evil stink rays of the nefarious onion. For contact lens wearers only, apparently.
2. The Super Kegel (tm) Exerciser-- which is sort of gross? Because I thought this was a sex exercise? And I'm really disturbed, because I can't tell if we're looking at this lady's butt, or her front. But apparently, aside from giving you awesome sex skills, it also has the added benefit of improving your bladder control!
3. The Escape Hammer-- which I can't believe my dad doesn't know about, because as Safety Man, it makes no sense that he would have allowed me to go all these years without a method of breaking my car window from the inside should I be caught in quicksand or trapped with a really aggressive bee. I'm particularly enamored of the man in the illustration, who so calmly wields the hammer and uses its sharpened indentation to cut his seat belt, all while thrusting his cheekbones out.I think my favorite thing in the world would be to encounter a situation in which all three of these implements was necessary at once-- your bladder's about to fail while trapped in a car full of half-cut onions.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
SoLong TiVo
In an effort to conserve cash and not become the kinds of homeowners who live in one room of their home, spending their free time sewing sock monkeys and watching cassette tapes of The Mikado on their VCRs by the light of a single, unshaded lamp (as I actually did spend one harrowing month in Wilmington back in 2001), we have had to make some cuts, and sadly, TiVo found itself on the chopping block this week.
This was depressing to Ben and particularly to me, as I had developed an almost gross love for the machine itself, with its happy glowing be-legged television icon and its Wonka-esque booping noises. After a rocky start, in which TiVo became convinced that we were middle-aged black people who enjoyed reruns of Martin and Amen (where are they still showing Amen? Does anyone even remember this show besides me? And TiVo?), we have gotten along famously. By the end, TiVo had introduced us to some of our favorite friends-- Bill Kurtis of American Justice; the guy who does all the voice-overs for the various Battle Against Nature shows on the History Channel ("Chase doesn't know it yet, but this could be the very tree that kills him"); the plucky interventionists of Intervention (my favorite: the one who always tells the drug addicts that they have a family "that loves them like crazy").
But Evil Empire Cable offers a vaguely similar, sort-of adequate faux TiVo (FoVo) for ten dollars less a month, and for some reason, adding it to our list of services somehow lowered our cable bill, not even counting TiVo, by another fourteen, so we had to let it go.
Not, however, without a fight-- Ben did some of the most strenuous flirting I have ever witnessed with the TiVo representative in an attempt to get the far superior Two-Shows-at-Once TiVo receiver out of her-- our logic being that if TiVo could out perform FoVo, we could keep it. The exchange went something like this:
Ben: Hey, baby.
TiVo Rep: I hear you want to cancel your TiVo service? That makes me sad.
Ben: I don't want you to be sad, Sugar Tits. Daddy wants you to be happy. And you know how you could make Daddy happy? With the Two-Shows-at-Once TiVo.
TiVo Rep: Aw, baby, you know I can't just give away the Two-Vo.
Ben: For me you could. Because if you do, we could make sweet love all night long. And I'll even scratch your back after. Awww, yeah.
TiVo Rep: Your offer intrigues me, as I enjoy making sweet love with TiVo fans. Let me see what I can do.
But sadly, in the end she could do nothing for us, even after Ben promised to wash her car in the nude and buy her the rights to the photos of Brad and Angelina's newest babies. (At which point, he called her a Tease-Vo and hung up on her.) (Also, please note: this conversation may not have actually occurred in this way.) So our TiVo box moulders, unplugged and dusty, on a shelf in our basement, while FoVo usurps its glory and spits in our faces by recording the same episode of Intervention four times for no reason. I loved the episode like crazy, but still.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Shaby's back-- back again
I. Am. Officially. Back.
Because as you may have noticed? I've kind of been maybe? A bad blog owner. Not just in my lack of postings, but rather in the quality of the postings that have gone up in the last, oh, say, year. Or so.
But get this-- I'm married. I did it. We bought a house. We did it. And until I have a baby, I can officially go back to being a normal human being. Of outrageously awesome hilariousness.
Throughout this whole getting married, buying a house process, I found myself really wanting to post on my blog, but not really having anything interesting to say. I contemplated deleting it, and just succumbing altogether to my life of audit manager-ness. But I could never bring myself to do it-- my blog is as close as I come-- right now, anyway-- to being an actual writer, as opposed to a relatively funny but mostly indistinguishable insurance drone.
That guy at work, that always tells the jokes, that comes to your cube and then won't leave and you kind of want to kill yourself? I was becoming that guy.
So once the move was complete, I decided-- the blog was back in action. And as evidenced by my severely awesome new background, you can see I totally mean business.
Since readership has dwindled to pretty much Ashley, Alan and my Aunt Kathy (hi, Aunt Kathy!), I realize I'll have to work pretty hard to regain your interest. But please, give me a chance-- I promise not to disappoint. And if I do disappoint? I promise to turn in my MFA and start studying for my CPCU (which, for those of you who don't know, is an insurance designation-- which means I just made an insurance joke, which means I have to go kill myself now, if you'll excuse me).
So please, if I promise not to talk about getting married, or buying a house, ever again? Will you please read this? Because I'm totally all about talking about anything but that, and if you're into it, too, you will be granted one ticket onto Battleship Awesome. For reals.
Because as you may have noticed? I've kind of been maybe? A bad blog owner. Not just in my lack of postings, but rather in the quality of the postings that have gone up in the last, oh, say, year. Or so.
But get this-- I'm married. I did it. We bought a house. We did it. And until I have a baby, I can officially go back to being a normal human being. Of outrageously awesome hilariousness.
Throughout this whole getting married, buying a house process, I found myself really wanting to post on my blog, but not really having anything interesting to say. I contemplated deleting it, and just succumbing altogether to my life of audit manager-ness. But I could never bring myself to do it-- my blog is as close as I come-- right now, anyway-- to being an actual writer, as opposed to a relatively funny but mostly indistinguishable insurance drone.
That guy at work, that always tells the jokes, that comes to your cube and then won't leave and you kind of want to kill yourself? I was becoming that guy.
So once the move was complete, I decided-- the blog was back in action. And as evidenced by my severely awesome new background, you can see I totally mean business.
Since readership has dwindled to pretty much Ashley, Alan and my Aunt Kathy (hi, Aunt Kathy!), I realize I'll have to work pretty hard to regain your interest. But please, give me a chance-- I promise not to disappoint. And if I do disappoint? I promise to turn in my MFA and start studying for my CPCU (which, for those of you who don't know, is an insurance designation-- which means I just made an insurance joke, which means I have to go kill myself now, if you'll excuse me).
So please, if I promise not to talk about getting married, or buying a house, ever again? Will you please read this? Because I'm totally all about talking about anything but that, and if you're into it, too, you will be granted one ticket onto Battleship Awesome. For reals.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Ojas Versus Euclid: The Score So Far
Euclid:
1. Brown-out (one point)
2. Water stoppage (one point)
3. Garmin stolen (five points)
4. Recent citation demanding that we cut our grass, or pay a $150 fine (one point)
5. Sudden appearance of new crazy man named Pete living down the street who won't stop talking to me when I walk the dog (one point)
Total: Nine points
Ojas:
1. Acquired new Garmin, which will be carefully hidden, more than likely in one of my bodily cavities, until we have officially vacated the premises (one point)
2. Kim's Euclid city tax bill was inexplicably only $9.06 (one point)
3. Moved to a much nicer community with no grass-mowing related laws, where Garmin will remain safe forever (one bazillion points)
Total: One bazillion and two points
So HA! In your FACE, Euclid! You have been powned by our superior level of awesomeness
1. Brown-out (one point)
2. Water stoppage (one point)
3. Garmin stolen (five points)
4. Recent citation demanding that we cut our grass, or pay a $150 fine (one point)
5. Sudden appearance of new crazy man named Pete living down the street who won't stop talking to me when I walk the dog (one point)
Total: Nine points
Ojas:
1. Acquired new Garmin, which will be carefully hidden, more than likely in one of my bodily cavities, until we have officially vacated the premises (one point)
2. Kim's Euclid city tax bill was inexplicably only $9.06 (one point)
3. Moved to a much nicer community with no grass-mowing related laws, where Garmin will remain safe forever (one bazillion points)
Total: One bazillion and two points
So HA! In your FACE, Euclid! You have been powned by our superior level of awesomeness
Sunday, July 06, 2008
And don't forget...
...there are still six minutes left in Ashley's birthday, so wish her a happy one!
Happy birthday, man! I love you!
Casa De Los Ojas
...if this were the 1800s, and I were a man, I would be able to vote, because I am now a property owner! (And so is Ben. So I guess he WOULD be able to vote. Lame.)
Check out more pictures at our Snapfish site-- Snapfish gets no end of plugs from me, so some free pictures would be nice (ahem). We're in the process of moving in right now, so I may be gone again for awhile, but once we're in for good, I'll be back to blogging, so please don't leave, because without your comments, I die. Literally.
Check out more pictures at our Snapfish site-- Snapfish gets no end of plugs from me, so some free pictures would be nice (ahem). We're in the process of moving in right now, so I may be gone again for awhile, but once we're in for good, I'll be back to blogging, so please don't leave, because without your comments, I die. Literally.
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