NEW RELEASES
We’re having a party!
Yesterday, Amylynn and I were getting some things together for a birthday party that she’s hosting this Saturday. We needed to go to a hardware store for glass jars.
Here’s one of the few ways that we differ – I never ask for help in a store because store people are idiots and always tell
Amylynn going shopping
you they don’t have what you’re looking for even when it’s right in front of them. Amylynn believes that the store folks are there to assist her and to do whatever she bids them to do.
With her diamond tiara on straight, she will sweep through the door and demand of the first employee she encounters where something is and with a wave of her hand indicate that they should lead her right to it. I always follow behind her, carrying the train of her gown and her scepter.
After being led to the Mason jars, she made the mistake of using the word “plethora” on the poor hapless clerk.
“Plethora? That’s a word you don’t hear often,” he mumbled. He should have just led and not talked. Didn’t he understand he was in an aisle filled with glass with a woman he’d just insulted and another one from Jersey? I told you store people are idiots.
Amylynn looked down her pert regal nose at him and right at his single eyebrow. “Really? I use it frequently,” she informed him.
A Plethora of Pickled People
Me, in my head, “Run little man, run! Save yourself!”
But it was not to be.
He said (I swear), “People only use big words to make other people feel stupid.”
“Sir, I am certain there are many reasons for you to feel stupid but my using the word “plethora” is not one of them.” Queen Amylynn proclaimed.
It didn’t end well.
Remember those pickled people jars from the 80s? Well, the hardware store in our town now has one for sale on aisle 12.
Back in the car, I did point out that maybe she shouldn’t ask for help in stores anymore, I’m just sayin’.
In Our Humble Opinion . . . reading 2 or 3 books a week is a SUPER power and not an excuse for avoiding going outside or exercising.
I’ll mention you in my thank you speach
They gave out the Medals of Freedom last week. The recipients were quite varied – everyone from John Glenn to Bob
Dylan. This made me wonder what exactly you had to do to qualify for a Medal of Freedom.
“The Medal of Freedom is presented to people who have made meritorious contributions to the national interests of the United States, to world peace or to other significant endeavors.”
You don’t even have to be alive to win. That will help my case since we all know real genius is often not recognized until after the artist is dead.
So I totally get why Bob Dylan got one. You can love him or hate him 
but you can’t deny his contributions to music.
John Glenn – duh – the first man to orbit Earth. I think Mr. Glenn should get any award he’s nominated for – at least as far as his space exploits are concerned.
Madeleine Albright – the first woman Secretary of State – a personal hero of mine.
Juliette Gordon Low – the founder of the commie pinko organization, The Girl Scouts.
Gordon Hirabayashi – he fought against the internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II.
This was only a few of the recipients and, as you can see, there was quite a range of achievements.
I propose that next year I be nominated for my “significant endeavors” in sarcasm. Or absurdism. Or beating a dead horse with that panda kidnapping business. I think I have made meritorious contributions in the subject of glaring.
I’m not sure how busy you all are right now, so I’ve put a link in for the procedures to nominate me. Follow here. I think the most difficult part will be the “Narrative Description of Contributions or Achievements”. You know, just cut and paste some of my blog posts. That should work. The part about “Citations” might also be hard. If you guys do this as a group then you can all give each other citations.
I’m not sure how many of these nominations they get every year so make sure you send it in with all the postage required and use a nice bond paper. You can get it by the sheet fairly cheap if you have your nomination printed at Kinkos. And Mr. Obama is pretty busy so use a larger font, like maybe a 12 pt Times New Roman cause you don’t want him to toss it aside just because it’s too hard to read.
It may be a little daunting, but just think how fulfilling it will be for you to know you actually helped someone you know win the prestigious Medal of Freedom.
Just So You Know . . . we did not cast the characters we know, they just showed up during dress rehearsal.
Just So You Know . . . today is Monday AND it’s a full moon, your opinion is unwanted, unneeded and unnecessary.
Sundays are apparently no longer a day of rest
We had a game plan for today.
All day Saturday we cleaned the house. We steam cleaned the carpets, dusted all the weird places and used the vacuum attachments. It was exhausting.
Months ago, I had purchased new curtains for the living room. Unfortunately, My Honey hadn’t been especially happy with my choice so I put them up in one window for him to get used to. Just as I knew they would, the curtains grew on him. they are really quite lovely. Both my mother and Mother-in-law loved them.
So we went to the store to pick up the panels for the other window. Guess what. They don’t sell those curtains anymore. – not in the store and not online. I even tried to find them on clearance. No dice. So now I have to start completely over. Shortly, I shall be strangling him. Just so you wonder why I won’t be talking about him much in the future.
So like I said, we had a plan for today. We were going to lay around on the couch, watch bad television, and nap the day away. Doesn’t that sound lovely. Of course it does. It’s like a dream come true.
That’s how you can be 100% sure that it won’t happen.
Yumm-a-roonie
We did start out with red velvet pancakes. That totally rocked.
Then we decided to rip out some carpet. Commence eye rolling.
It didn’t sound like that awful of a job at first. Rip out some carpet, roll it up and tote it out to the side of the house. It really needed to be done so I readily agreed. And then I realized that involved moving all the furniture which wouldn’t be such a big job except that one of the biggest pieces is my china cabinet. The Bandit counted and I have 162 glasses in there.
Only one tea-cup was broken, by The Bandit, incidentally, only it was one of the ones hand-painted by my grandmother. Ah well. I consider only one casualty a success.
Then My Honey said, “Since the furniture is all moved, we should really paint.”
Well, it desperately needed to be done. I looked longingly at the couch and sighed.
I chose Cathedral Vanilla or something like that at Lowes. One thing I’d like to know is when did paint become so ever-loving expensive? And masking tape? Good lord, the blue masking tape was 9.97 for one roll, together with the paint I was out $67. When did they start making paint out of gold?
The instant I got home with the paint, Sassy and the Bandit were all over it.
“When can we paint? How ’bout now? Now? Can we paint now? I wanna roller. Can I use the roller? Can I now? Now?
My Honey and I finally caved and gave them each a paint brush and pointed them towards the base boards.
For future reference, I heartily recommend you find ANYTHING else for a seven-year old to do besides help paint. His father and I might be complete idiots for even considering it. Shortly there after the boy was fired and sent to take a bath. There are only so many times you can say, “Only up and down!”, “Not on the wood!” and “Dude, no!”
Then, Miss Sassy wanted to know how much she was being paid to do this job.
Holy crap! If I’d thought of it, I could have paid them both NOT to help. That would have been the best twenty bucks I’d ever spent.
And would have taken half the time.
June 1
This has been a very strange week for news. Well, strange in general, actually. Short weeks always do that. Tuesday comes along and you’re all confused about what day it is, and then there’s twice the email at work, and you have all that Monday stuff to catch up on besides the Tuesday stuff and, before you know it, Thursday has arrived and it feels like it should be Friday cause you already jammed nine days into this “short” week. We’re exhausted and it’s not five o’clock yet and, honestly, it feels like it never will be and did you check the batteries in the clock lately because that can’t be right. Short weeks create run on sentances. Stop the madness! We’re going to go calm down while you check out our thoughts below.
1. Astrology. We can’t tell you how pleased we are that the astrologers have already determined who will win the presidential election. Instead of all that polling bullshit, they went to the stars and planets and whatever else and have come to the consensus that Obama will win reelection. Whatever you think of that particular outcome, you have to be pleased that the worry is over. Someone call the National Committees and let them know. Since it’s a foregone conclusion, there is simply no need to continue with the propaganda. And now we’ll all have that day freed up in November . We think we should all meet for a 
drink. We can toast the astrologers.
2. Florida. The Sisters are really, really concerned about Florida. If the apocalypse happens we are 100% certain that it will start in Florida and NO ONE WILL EVEN KNOW! Want proof of this hypothesis? Let’s take that freaky naked guy who ate that other guy’s face off, growled at a police officer and was shot, twice, before he died. That alone is pretty damn weird. Today his girlfriend came out to say that he must have either been drugged without knowing it or, and this is one hellacious OR, he was placed under a voodoo curse. Holy crap! She is also willing to admit, “Something happened out of the ordinary that day.” Well, that’s stating it mildly, isn’t it. This woman professes to not have believed in voodoo before but now she totally does. If things continue to deteriorate in this fashion, we’re going to strongly recommend that Disneyworld be moved. We’ll be right down with some boxes.
artist rendering
3. Alien raccoons. Believe it or not this did not happen in Florida. It was Japan. Alien raccoons. We don’t think they burst out from anyone’s chest, or even a garbage can. For those of you who don’t know, you can trap raccoons, alien or otherwise, with ham and cabbage. We had no idea. Anyway, the headline was a bit deceiving. They’re not aliens like from other planets, just boring ole “alien” like not usually there. OR it’s all a consipiracy and there totally were alien alien raccoons and they don’t want us to know about it. Think about it. It could be true. Perhaps they’re from Florida. We’re just 
saying…keep a vigilant eye out.
4. Pampered cows.It has come to our attention that we want to be reincarnated as cows. Yes, cows. There are a couple of reasons, not the least of which is their extraordinarily long eye lashes, but primarily its because the latest article we read about dairy farming has alerted us to the fact that these days cows are treated a hell of a lot better than the Bank of No Forks employees. First of all, the
Pretty
farmers would most certainly buy the cows forks if they had thumbs. Already, they’re playing Chopin in the barns, giving them waterbeds to lie down on, and having chiropractors come in to give them adjustments. We’re seriously considering forming a union and demanding working conditions at least as good as cow’s have it. Although, frankly, we’re not too excited about having anything
Scruffy
squeezed for milk.
5. Thor and the Huntsman. We think it’s high time a pretty man was mentioned in this space again. It’s been a while. Fortunately, there’s Chris Hemsworth. Oh Chris. Chris. Chris. Chris. If we had any poetic talent, we’d write an ode. First he mesmerized us as Thor, then with the rest of those pretty boys in the Avengers and, now, he’s a scruffy huntsman. Chris is the man for every woman. If you like them pretty and blonde and huge you have Thor. If you like them scruffy, a little dirty, and wearing leathers you have your huntsman. Either way, you’re getting the muscles and deep, blue eyes. Chris – if you’re reading this we beg you, stay the hell out of Florida.
Just So You Know . . . today is “National Irrational Day” – let your cognitive deficiencies fly!
One of us is crazy . . .
About once a month, Amylynn and I have a conversation about the fact that she is insane. She denies this and I bring up example after example of her craziness. This conversation always starts over the fact that she can’t post on the blog one night and I’m either too busy or don’t have a topic. Tonight, I’m just too busy. Making 48 chocolate butterflies for a
Amylynn's New Jacket
party is not quick or easy and after I leave Bank of No Forks, that’s what I’ll be doing for the next 3 or 4 days. After I inform her that the blog world can do without us for an evening – I hear this from her office:
Amylynn – (aggravated deep heavy dramatic sigh) I’ll come up with something.
Me – Really. (Not really with a question mark but really like you’re nuts and you need to stop your craziness before I call the authorities – that REALLY)
Amylynn – Really (Not really with a question mark or really like I’m nuts and I need to stop my craziness before you call the authorities but the really that says you’re letting me down and I’ll just do it myself – that REALLY)
So, to help out, here’s tonight’s blog:
Gratuitous picture of cute hockey player - Taylor Pyatt
You’re welcome.
****Note from Amylynn….
I might be crazy, it’s true. In fact, it’s probable. I come from a long line of crazy and I surround myself with crazies. I suffer from delusions that the seven people who read this blog will be angry that there isn’t a post when they expect one and will thus abandon the ritual of coming here to read my nonsense and then I’ll be down to six or five faithful readers.
Panic sets in.
I’m totally crazy. The people in my head are nodding emphatically.
This time a gratuitous shot of a hockey MAN
I feel much better.
I admitted I’m crazy. Ava is damn near certifiable. Need proof? Ask her about buying gasoline. How are you crazy? What proof would you offer up to get you out of jury duty?