NEW RELEASES
Shopping fun with Amy and Ava
A note from Amylynn: Ava is off in France, but before she left I made her write a couple of blogs to help me out while she’s gone. Enjoy!
Amy: No, I’m not driving you anywhere else to look for boots for your trip to France. I swear we’ve put 1082 miles on my car already, all at lunch, on that fruitless quest.
I did NOT make them up
Me: Please?! I just know if we go to one more store they’ll have them.
Amy: They most certainly will not. No store has them because you made them up. I can’t watch another sales girl quit over your demand for grey suede ankle boots with a wedge. (note from Amylynn: OH SWEET HEAVEN! It’s not just the boots. There is also a fruitless search for a structured gray suede purse with an outside pocket and silver hardware that’s not too big and not too small. Just thinking about it and I want to lay down)
Me: How about if we go to the nail polish store than?
Side note – we call it the nail polish store because it’s really a wholesale supply place for manicurists and all they sell is nail stuff there.
Amy: How can you be out of pinky off-white already? Weren’t we just there for that?
Side note: I only wear pinky off-white nail polish.
Me: I want greige.
Amy: Excuse me?
Beautiful Greige
Me: Griege – grey beige.
Amy: Yuk.
Me: How is that helpful? It’s all over the fashion magazines this month.
Amy: They’re not going to have that, it sounds awful.
Well, they had it. It was a little more grey than greige but I think it will do.
Amy to owner of store who’s always really nice to us and sells stuff to us wholesale even though we’re not licensed manicurist: That color is ugly, don’t you think?
Me before he can answer: It’s in all the magazines this month. And look they only have one bottle left. It must be popular. (note from Amylynn: It’s a ridiculously ugly color. I’m not just saying that. Even the sales guy made a face when he thougtht Ava wasn’t looking. Imagine the color nail polish a zombie would wear, now make it a little uglier. Blech.)
Amy: Tell her there’s only one bottle left because it’s ugly and you only bought one.
The poor owner of the store didn’t know what to say. He clearly wanted to sell me the bottle of polish – not because it was the only one he bought but because it’s a fabulous color and he wanted me to look nice in Paris. (note from Amylynn: Ava spends an inordinate amount of time fretting that the French people will make fun of her. Now I’m positive of it. “Ha ha ha.” They’ll chuckle with a French accent. “Look at that stupid American. The practical joke we leaked to Vogue totally worked.”)
I’m thinking about getting him to drive me around for those boots . . .
Another note from Amylynn: She found the boots – she ordered three from Amazon and they all worked. Her darling husband Ed picked one and made her send the rest back. Do recall that I drove her to every single store in this town during our lunch hour over the past month and she finally found them on Amazon. I could kill myself.
September 28
Amylynn is an unhappy camper. That’s not true. If she was camping, then everyone would be unhappy. She’s just pissy. There’s a difference. Ava’s leaving for freaking France and Kelli is busy with her new stupid job that she really loves. For the next ten days Amylynn will only have you, dear internet, to keep her occupied. When she’s not occupied, disturbing things happen. Shenanigans are to be had. Let’s hope she’s too busy writing to find the opportunity to create much mischief. The Sisters still managed to find five things to amuse them. Next week, well, we’ll see how next week goes. Amylynn might change it to The Five Reasons Not to Set Fire to Stuff.
- Extended Family. Remember last week when we were so excited to have found our long lost cousin living quite frugally in Carson City? Remember, he’d hidden $7,000,000 in gold bars around his house. More good news! We found some more cousins, this time in Norway. Yea! We love Norway. We love fjords and raspberry Danishes. And lederhosen. They wear lederhosen in Norway, right? Whatever they wear, we’re sure we love it. We’d happily tell you the name of our new cousins,
only the AP wire service isn’t supplying it. They did divulge however that our cousins have won the lottery for the THIRD TIME. We’re quite certain that our new cousins are very generous and good hearted. - Dear Abby. Often times, while we’re reading the Dear Abby column, we are absolutely certain that these letters are made up. Take for instance the lady who wrote in to ask what should be done with all the baby teeth the tooth fairy has saved up. Like all tooth fairies, the Sisters have little boxes of chicklet sized teeth tucked away, so we perked up at the opportunity for an idea. Clearly Abby was messing with her readers when she suggested, “You could have them mounted and display them on a charm bracelet.” WHAT? Yeah, if you’re Joseph Mengele or Hannibal Lecter. How repulsive. Those
teeth are adorable until you take a really good look at them. We don’t know about you, but we’re planning to sell them back to the original kid. Trying to recoup some of those candy and tuition losses. What we are 100% certain about is that baby teeth are NOT an item intended for crafting. - Penguins. Some good folks in South Africa just cleaned up a bunch of oil-covered penguins and turned them lose in the wild. That sounds like a great deal of fun, doesn’t it? Scrubbing wiggly
penguins with dish soap. Our passports are in order. We’re outta here. - The general cluelessness of people.There is another advice column we enjoy, Office Coach by Marie McIntyre. Once again, there is a letter that just can’t be real. In the first one this week, the woman claims to have been written up by her manager for being compulsively tardy and complains that now she’s being monitored very closely. “I don’t think I
Hi! Pleased to meet you.
deserve to be treated this way just because I have poor time management skills.” Are you kidding us? Really? This letter, this one right here, is everything that’s wrong with this country today. The woman asks, “Is there anything I can do to improve the situation?” GET TO WORK ON TIME, YOU TARDY FREAK! We feel much better now.
- Excited llamas. This story is ostensibly sad, but we’re twisted and we laughed anyway. We’re bad people. We know this. We’re also certain that something equally ridiculous will happen to us someday and we all give you permission to laugh when you read the obituary. A nice old lady died of a heart attack this week because her pet llama greeted her a bit too vigorously. Well, if you’ve got to die…We’re certain the llama feels horrible.
Do you know the time zone for American Samoa? I do.
I tweeted this today. 
Sometimes, when my phone rings and his name pops up on my screen, I get excited ’cause you never know what the call will bring.
Today it was vinegar, sometimes he needs the name of some television character from an obscure 1970’s show. My uncle texted me not too long ago that my father had called him to ask about stagecoach routes.
I told him that vinegar comes directly from the bottle which is available for about a dollar at the grocery store. Honestly, it never occurred to me that vinegar was something that was manufactured. Now that I think about it, I know that it must be. Vinegar doesn’t just appear from thin air, conjured up by moms who need to dye Easter eggs. I was curious so I googled it. There’s an actual website – www.howtomakevinegar.com. Really.
It tells me that the most common raw materials for vinegar are cane sugar juice, coconut water or nipa sap. What? What the hell is ‘nipa sap”? Wikipedia says it’s some sort of palm plant. I also learned that it takes like two weeks or longer to ferment into vinegar. I have now lost all interest in vinegar and nipa sap. It turns out there is nothing interesting about it except the Easter eggs, but I’m willing to sacrifice those if I never have to research this again.
I have no idea how my father fills his days now that he’s been forced to retire, but I can tell you that he’s bored and that keeps me on my toes. I hope my next assignment is more interesting than vinegar.
Termite Infested Shoes sounds like a punk rock band
Dear heaven. Did you hear about the tragedy? We’re not talking about the issue at the National Zoo. We’re not prepared to talk about that just yet. It’s still too fresh. Maybe in six months or so.
No, the tragedy I’m talking about happened in Manila. Much of Imelda Marco’s shoe collection was destroyed. Obviously, there were some
outdated shoes, but surely you understand the concept that everything old becomes new again. That’s the very idea behind the word “vintage”.
When Imelda and Ferdinand Marcos fled the Philippines, she left behind some 1,220 pairs of shoes which, along with gowns and purses, were stored improperly, shoved in boxes and crates, giving access to mold and termites and, most tragically, a flood from a gushing ceiling leak.
This is a sad, sad day in shoe heaven.
Next came the news of a looming bacon shortage. What the hell is the world coming to? They claim it has to do with drought and then poor corn production. The Brits say it’s because of shrinking herds. Ava was of course immediately concerned. Bacon is one of the important food groups. She thought we should immediately run out and get ourselves some pigs. This is a horrible idea. Within five minutes of the pigs showing up, I’d have named them and we’d all be cuddling on the couch. I’m not eating anything I’ve named. Even if it’s bacon.
And then they went and killed off Opie.
The whole world is going to hell.
I do have a problem with excessive eyerolling.
My family is nice enough to leave the mail for me to fetch when I get home. I’m not saying that with any sarcasm at all. I love getting the mail. I have no idea why, there’s never anything in there but bills and fliers and crap, but still I love getting the mail. Except if there’s a spider in there, but that’s a different blog.
Yesterday there was an eye-catching flyer that gave me pause.
It was bright red and yellow with a Lichtenstein-esque cartoon lady on page one of the trifold. The blurb asks: UNHAPPY WITH YOUR MAID SERVICE?
Well, yes, actually. I am very unhappy with my maid service. She’s a surly bitch, that one. She’s always acting like she’s too good to scrub the toilet. She refuses to do windows and will give you the filthiest look if you suggest she mop the floors. She never keeps the cleaning supplies stocked. Essentially, she’s an awful employee and I don’t even know what to do with her.
The eyerolling and and back talk is excessive and totally uncalled for.
Oh wait. I don’t have a maid. That would, however, be an excellent description of me.
Her daddy is in denial
Last Friday, as I was getting the kids ready for school, I thought to myself, “Wow, Sassy looks really pretty today.” I thought it again as the kids were climbing out of my SUV. It seemed to me that her eyes were really popping.
I wondered if it was just that she’s my kid and, by genetic default, I think she’s beautiful. But no, she looked really lovely. I didn’t say anything to her about it – I guess because we were busy trying to get out of the house. Or maybe because I don’t want her to get a swelled head. Not that I never tell her she’s pretty, I just don’t want to go crazy about it, ya know? Perhaps I’m a bad parent, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s much more important to be pretty on the inside than the outside. I praise her kindness, empathy, and intelligence much more than the fact that she’s turning into a pretty girl.
Still, I looked at her and it occurred to me that I’m going to have a serious problem in a few short years. So far she hasn’t expressed much interest in boys – which is a VERY good thing as Sassy is only 9 years old. However, she is a very girly-girl and fashion is very important to her.
When I got home from work, I noticed her eyes again and the same thoughts from earlier wormed their way into my brain. I specifically noticed her eyelashes. 
I have been saying it for years now, but I have no idea how I made such a pretty girl. She’s way prettier than I ever was. It must be the influence of her father’s genes. In fact, I think that it is wholly unfair that it doesn’t look like she’s going to have an ugly duckling stage. Mine went on for about thirteen years.
Anyway, sometime around 9:30 I glanced over at her on the couch next to me and it hit me like a Mack truck. I was such an idiot.
She was wearing mascara. To school.
At nine.
At least I can say she did an excellent job of putting it on.
When confronted, she finally admitted she stole my makeup. Sigh. I gave her the health lecture about infection and blah blah blah. All that is great, Mom, but when can I wear it? Then the topic of shaving her legs came up and I started having very real heart palpitations.
The arbitrary age of 13 was mentioned.
I’m going to go lay down. She’s definitely killing me.
It’s Sunday night and I’m very tired.
The cartoon geniuses at Birdboxstudios.com.
September 21
Summer is just about wrapped up. You can tell in our desert town because, although it is still 100 degrees, there is no humidity left. None. There is no perceptible moisture in the air. At all. It’s like the air is crackling with electrical charges, it’s so dry. My skin has dried out over night. I’m like a lizard at this point. If it weren’t a totally disgusting proposition, I would suggest you could grate cheese on my scaly elbows. Over share? I’m never sure where to leave off, dear internet. Sometimes we feel so intimate, and then you ignore me for five days. It’s just like we’re in a romantic relationship. I wish I could sue you for palimony. This conversation has taken a strange turn I really didn’t see coming. My stream of consciousness is very odd. Moving on…here are some amusing things. Five of them in 
fact.
- Our long lost uncle. Ava and I are certain we just found our long lost uncle. We never thought to look for him in Carson City, Nevada, but it seems he’s been there the whole time. Fortunately, they told his story in the paper or we’d have never found him. It seems dear Uncle Walter has died. While that is so very, very sad – really, we’re heartbroken, we are somewhat comforted to find out that poor reclusive Uncle Walter had seven million ($7,000,000) in gold bars hidden about
his house. We’re coming right down there to claim the body, just as soon as our new identification dries. Thank you, Amylynn and Ava Samaszko. - Panda follies. Ladies and gentleman. Another panda bear has been born in the National Zoo in DC. We don’t want to say too much and tip our hand. Let’s just say, now that we have access to the above mentioned 7 million dollars things are going to start happening.
- Mexican prison tunnels. The Sisters firmly disagree with the whole concept of prison breaks. We think people in prison should stay there unless you happen to be Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman is waiting for you in Zihuantanejo OR you are Jason Statham and then you can do anything you want. All those stipulations being said, we are still fairly impressed with the 130 Mexican inmates who escaped through a twenty-one foot tunnel. That’s a lot of inmates and one heck of a tunnel. Those of us languishing away at Bank of No Forks are very interested in the engineering
involved in digging that tunnel. Like how did they get through the concrete? We keep breaking our coffee stirrers when we hit the concrete. Somebody give us a call, would you? - Weeding with fire. Some genius decided the best possible way to get rid of weeds in his yard was to burn them with a torch. In the desert. The dry, dry desert. Remember how I mentioned that earlier? Several hours after the blitzkrieg our mental giant noticed the smell of smoke but eschewed it as “residual” smoke. What the hell is “residual” smoke? Isn’t smoke just smoke? Several more hours later he discovered his garage “engulfed in flames.” Sigh. Honest to God, men can be so dumb. Can you imagine how the rest of his life is going to go now that his wife has this ammunition? Every time she hears a siren, he’s going to get the look.
- Endeavour. Yesterday we ran outside the office and loitered in the front patio with the rest of the building’s occupants to see the space shuttle Endeavour fly over on its way to California. Almost exactly to the minute when they estimated it would fly over, we heard the rumbling in the sky. The jumbo jet carrying the shuttle was so big it dwarfed the Endeavor which is really saying something about jumbo jet technology. It flew really low at 1500 feet over town and it was awesome. Yea NASA! Is 7 million enough to rent the space shuttle? What if we let you pet our panda?
It’s way better than a beak.
So I clued you in yesterday to the fact that there was an actual presidential election coming up. Just like most everyone else, we’ve been a little disappointed in the candidates. We wondered, what could they do to make themselves a little more interesting?
Then we saw this article about Vladimir Putin, the president of Russia. The Russians went and got themselves a showman, a daredevil, a
I’d name this bird Sally Crane
possible lunatic. You can say what you want about his politics – and plenty of you will, but that’s not the purpose of my blog today.
How many politicians do you know who supposedly rescue reporters by tranquilizing charging tigers, or recover ancient Greek vases from the bottom of the Black Sea? He crossbowed a whale and put a polar bear to sleep. Vladimir’s latest stunt had him donning white coveralls and a beak (!!), climbing into a motorized hang glider and leading endangered Siberian Cranes to their winter habitat. He is quoted as saying, “Only the weak ones…didn’t follow me.”
I kind of love how egotistical that is. Can you imagine the Secret Service allowing Barak to put on a wolf suit and teach baby wolves how to dig a den? Or Bill Clinton swimming with beached sperm whales back to safety?
I’m sorry I have to interrupt this blog to point out how freaking hysterical it is that I put Bill Clinton and sperm whales in the same sentence. I’m fully prepared to admit that I don’t have a very highbrow sense of humor. Back to your regularly scheduled blog.
Alright, so he’s a little excessive – especially for a world leader. That being said, I’d like to point out that someone gave him a tiger cub for his birthday. Clearly, Vladimir is on to something here.
I’m off to get fitted for my panda suit. I’m gonna show them how to plant bamboo.
If you can live through this, Christmas is just around the corner
Did you know that there is a big election coming up? There is. If you’re curious you can turn on the television, read a newspaper, drive in your car, pick up a magazine, ask a nine year old or look at Twitter for thirty seconds. Apparently, there is evidence everywhere.
I jest. You can’t escape the election. It’s pervasive like oxygen. They want you to vote for everything – Sheriff, President, Representative, Chief Dog Catcher. It’s insane.
Don’t worry, there’s only 47 days left till the nightmare is over.
It does make me wonder though….