100-year-old celebrates her birthday by smoking 170,000th cigarette
"Despite the numerous health warnings, Mrs Langley insists she's never suffered because of the habit as she "has never inhaled"."
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
New Project
We’re currently working really hard on a new project. Actually, we figure it’s an on-going project, and that it’ll take a while.
Zel and I are working really hard to not curse.
For those of you who know us, you know this is a major fucking challenge. We have mouths like a sailor and a trucker.
The reason we don’t want to curse any more is because of Baby Kaos. We’d really hate for him to be chatting with one of his Grandmothers on the phone and say, “Goddamnit, Grandma!” or “This toy is a piece of shit!” or “My room is a fucking disaster!”
One idea to help us not curse involves money. Usually, when Zel has to pay for something, he sits up and pays attention (no pun intended, but it’s funny all the same). The idea is that for each time we curse, we have to put a quarter in a jar and then whenever we have enough quarters, we’ll put the money into college saving account for Baby Kaos. We’ll probably have a decent amount of money in a couple of days. Honestly.
We tried to substitute other words for curse words. Like, fart or frick = fuck; shoot = shit; darn = damn. But that’s not working because it’s not us. We’re cursers.
Of course, we’re trying to approach the entire project with humor. There are some substitution words that are a bit funny that we’ve started using:
Malarkey. That’s a good word. As in, “That’s a bunch of malarkey, Grandma!”
Baloney. That’s an ok word. “This toy is a piece of baloney!”
But, Pimento Loaf is better, but only because pimento loaf is a nasty nasty thing. “My room is a pimento loafing disaster!”
So far, so good.
But, I think we’re going to go with “smurf”. I’m not smurfing kidding here.
Wish us luck, because we need all the smurfing luck we can get our hands on with this project.
Zel and I are working really hard to not curse.
For those of you who know us, you know this is a major fucking challenge. We have mouths like a sailor and a trucker.
The reason we don’t want to curse any more is because of Baby Kaos. We’d really hate for him to be chatting with one of his Grandmothers on the phone and say, “Goddamnit, Grandma!” or “This toy is a piece of shit!” or “My room is a fucking disaster!”
One idea to help us not curse involves money. Usually, when Zel has to pay for something, he sits up and pays attention (no pun intended, but it’s funny all the same). The idea is that for each time we curse, we have to put a quarter in a jar and then whenever we have enough quarters, we’ll put the money into college saving account for Baby Kaos. We’ll probably have a decent amount of money in a couple of days. Honestly.
We tried to substitute other words for curse words. Like, fart or frick = fuck; shoot = shit; darn = damn. But that’s not working because it’s not us. We’re cursers.
Of course, we’re trying to approach the entire project with humor. There are some substitution words that are a bit funny that we’ve started using:
Malarkey. That’s a good word. As in, “That’s a bunch of malarkey, Grandma!”
Baloney. That’s an ok word. “This toy is a piece of baloney!”
But, Pimento Loaf is better, but only because pimento loaf is a nasty nasty thing. “My room is a pimento loafing disaster!”
So far, so good.
But, I think we’re going to go with “smurf”. I’m not smurfing kidding here.
Wish us luck, because we need all the smurfing luck we can get our hands on with this project.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Disposable Thermometers?
We grew up with mercury thermometers, and we're fine, just fine.
The latest and greatest invention is the digital thermometer. We have four; yes, F-O-U-R digital thermometers.
We have two that can go into a person's ear, which we received for baby shower gifts. We have two that you can use in the mouth, under the arm, or up the A. I purchased these: one for home and one for the diaper bag.
The trouble started Thursday night, when Baby Kaos felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. I grabbed the non-ear thermometer...dead battery. I found non-ear thermometer #2 in the diaper bag...dead battery.
WTF??? I've had these non-ear thermometers less than a year. My son has been sick a total of TWICE in his 11 months of life.
My Mommy-OCD kicked in, and I kept pushing the “On” button on one of the non-ear thermometers. FINALLY, it decided to give me one attempt. I stuck the thermometer under his arm: 103.something. Sweet Jesus. His entire body was hot to the touch, and it was a bit scary.
Although Baby Kaos has never been too fond of the ear thermometer I tried and got a similar reading. And I had to wrastle him down to get it. And, I'm never sure about this thermometer...did I stick it in far enough...did I stick it in too far...I hope I don't hurt him....
We were up for about 2 hours in the middle of the night. Went to the doc's the next day. Ear infection. No wonder he hollered when the ear thermometer went in. Sorry, Baby Kaos.
On Friday afternoon, I went on a mission to find a new battery for the non-ear thermometer. I start calling around. I call the pharmacies: no battery. I call Radio Shack: Special order for $4.99 + Shipping (Huh? I may as well get a new goddamned thermometer!). I call the jewelers: $14.02 with tax, lifetime warranty. If, at any point in my life, the battery dies, they'll replace it for free. That's nice.
Hang on just a second: On the thermometer instructions that I kept, it says, “Battery Life: more than 300 measurements or approximately 2 years if used every other day.” My Mommy-OCD isn't that bad, I don't take Baby Kaos' temp every other day. The company is getting a phone call on Monday.
But, since I can't track down a reasonably priced thermometer battery in my community, are thermometers now disposable?
The latest and greatest invention is the digital thermometer. We have four; yes, F-O-U-R digital thermometers.
We have two that can go into a person's ear, which we received for baby shower gifts. We have two that you can use in the mouth, under the arm, or up the A. I purchased these: one for home and one for the diaper bag.
The trouble started Thursday night, when Baby Kaos felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. I grabbed the non-ear thermometer...dead battery. I found non-ear thermometer #2 in the diaper bag...dead battery.
WTF??? I've had these non-ear thermometers less than a year. My son has been sick a total of TWICE in his 11 months of life.
My Mommy-OCD kicked in, and I kept pushing the “On” button on one of the non-ear thermometers. FINALLY, it decided to give me one attempt. I stuck the thermometer under his arm: 103.something. Sweet Jesus. His entire body was hot to the touch, and it was a bit scary.
Although Baby Kaos has never been too fond of the ear thermometer I tried and got a similar reading. And I had to wrastle him down to get it. And, I'm never sure about this thermometer...did I stick it in far enough...did I stick it in too far...I hope I don't hurt him....
We were up for about 2 hours in the middle of the night. Went to the doc's the next day. Ear infection. No wonder he hollered when the ear thermometer went in. Sorry, Baby Kaos.
On Friday afternoon, I went on a mission to find a new battery for the non-ear thermometer. I start calling around. I call the pharmacies: no battery. I call Radio Shack: Special order for $4.99 + Shipping (Huh? I may as well get a new goddamned thermometer!). I call the jewelers: $14.02 with tax, lifetime warranty. If, at any point in my life, the battery dies, they'll replace it for free. That's nice.
Hang on just a second: On the thermometer instructions that I kept, it says, “Battery Life: more than 300 measurements or approximately 2 years if used every other day.” My Mommy-OCD isn't that bad, I don't take Baby Kaos' temp every other day. The company is getting a phone call on Monday.
But, since I can't track down a reasonably priced thermometer battery in my community, are thermometers now disposable?
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Comment of the Day, August 7, 2007
So, I'm calling around to local stores, trying to find a specific baby-proofing lock. I'm looking for a Safety 1st, Lazy Susan Cabinet Lock.
Yes, I used the Inter-Web and tried to find one. And find one I did...for $2.97. And a mere $10.00 s/h. No, I'm not making this up. TEN DOLLARS to ship and handle a piece of plastic that cost $0.50 to make. Dry eff in the A, no reach-around.
I've looked at the Empire, but they don't have the specific lock I'm looking for. So, I call around.
Store 1
A major corporation; not the best customer service when you're in the store generally means not the best customer service when you're on the phone. I tell the guy at the Special Order Service Desk that I'm looking for a specific childproofing lock, I know they carry the brand, but they don't carry the lock. He asks me what kind of lock; I tell him it's a Safety 1st, Lazy Susan Cabinet Lock, and ask if they would be willing to order it for me. I didn't tell him that I want to see if they can special order it for me and not charge me $13.00 for it.
“And what's this for again?” he asks.
“Childproofing,” I say. I'm patient. He's a bit on the slow side...probably not getting enough fresh air.
He tells me that he's looking in the computer for Safety 1st, but that it's not coming up. Nothing called Safety 1st is coming up. He tells me that he's never heard of Safety 1st, but that he's also not surprised he's never heard of it because they "carry a lot of different stuff here at The Major Corporation."
He tells me that he needs to do a bit more searching and he's going to set the phone down. He set the phone down. He did not put me on hold. He SET THE PHONE DOWN ON THE COUNTER. I hung up; I don't have time for this shit.
Store 2
I call the mom-and-pop store, which is sometimes referred to as “Store, Our Store” because one or both of The Girls claimed she saw Huey Lewis and his dad there.
I tell the gal on the phone at the mom-and-pop that I'm looking for a specific childproofing item: the Safety 1st, Lazy Susan Cabinet Lock and ask her if they carry such a thing.
“Jus a sec,” she says. (yes, she said, “Jus” not “Just”; God bless 'er!)
She continues, but not quite in my ear, “Hey, Craig! Do we carry baby proofin' stuff?”
In my head: “Oh, Sweet Jesus.”
Craig: “Uh, yeah! On aisle 10, on the left.”
She comes back to me, “It's on aisle 10, on the left.”
"Mkay."
Out loud, I said, “Ok, so you carry it then?”
“Well,” she said, “the childproofing stuff is on aisle 10, on the left. So you'd need to take a left at aisle 10.”
No, I didn't go ask her to check. Instead, I said, “Thank you very much. I appreciate your time.”
“You're welcome,” she said.
Wow. What the goddamn do you say to something like that? Because it was kinda funny; kinda not.
At least I know exactly where to go in the Store, Our Store: aisle ten, on the left.
Yes, I used the Inter-Web and tried to find one. And find one I did...for $2.97. And a mere $10.00 s/h. No, I'm not making this up. TEN DOLLARS to ship and handle a piece of plastic that cost $0.50 to make. Dry eff in the A, no reach-around.
I've looked at the Empire, but they don't have the specific lock I'm looking for. So, I call around.
Store 1
A major corporation; not the best customer service when you're in the store generally means not the best customer service when you're on the phone. I tell the guy at the Special Order Service Desk that I'm looking for a specific childproofing lock, I know they carry the brand, but they don't carry the lock. He asks me what kind of lock; I tell him it's a Safety 1st, Lazy Susan Cabinet Lock, and ask if they would be willing to order it for me. I didn't tell him that I want to see if they can special order it for me and not charge me $13.00 for it.
“And what's this for again?” he asks.
“Childproofing,” I say. I'm patient. He's a bit on the slow side...probably not getting enough fresh air.
He tells me that he's looking in the computer for Safety 1st, but that it's not coming up. Nothing called Safety 1st is coming up. He tells me that he's never heard of Safety 1st, but that he's also not surprised he's never heard of it because they "carry a lot of different stuff here at The Major Corporation."
He tells me that he needs to do a bit more searching and he's going to set the phone down. He set the phone down. He did not put me on hold. He SET THE PHONE DOWN ON THE COUNTER. I hung up; I don't have time for this shit.
Store 2
I call the mom-and-pop store, which is sometimes referred to as “Store, Our Store” because one or both of The Girls claimed she saw Huey Lewis and his dad there.
I tell the gal on the phone at the mom-and-pop that I'm looking for a specific childproofing item: the Safety 1st, Lazy Susan Cabinet Lock and ask her if they carry such a thing.
“Jus a sec,” she says. (yes, she said, “Jus” not “Just”; God bless 'er!)
She continues, but not quite in my ear, “Hey, Craig! Do we carry baby proofin' stuff?”
In my head: “Oh, Sweet Jesus.”
Craig: “Uh, yeah! On aisle 10, on the left.”
She comes back to me, “It's on aisle 10, on the left.”
"Mkay."
Out loud, I said, “Ok, so you carry it then?”
“Well,” she said, “the childproofing stuff is on aisle 10, on the left. So you'd need to take a left at aisle 10.”
No, I didn't go ask her to check. Instead, I said, “Thank you very much. I appreciate your time.”
“You're welcome,” she said.
Wow. What the goddamn do you say to something like that? Because it was kinda funny; kinda not.
At least I know exactly where to go in the Store, Our Store: aisle ten, on the left.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Daily Special
Yesterday at my favorite coffee shop, the daily special was a Daisy Chain.
I can’t make this up.
I did my civic duty, and told the owner that she may want to change the name of the daily special.
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, I’m concerned that your baristas may be projecting the wrong image with the name Daisy Chain,” I said.
“Well, what’s a Daisy Chain?” she asked.
“It’s not a hazelnut and vanilla latte. Nor is it a chain of daisies,” I said.
She was very concerned. It’s not that she’s young and naïve; she has four grown kids, one of which plays professional women’s basketball. But she truly had no idea.
Although the baristas are hot, I did not offer to demonstrate a daisy chain.
She was a bit surprised at the definition of Daisy Chain. She said that when the baristas came up with the name for the daily special, they had no idea that it meant that.
I said, “As far as you know, they don’t know, but they’re savvy college girls, and they may know.” I did not say, “They may have even participated in one.”
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