Sorry it's been a few days, peeps. Got caught up in the craziness of professional and social life. Today I will list and analyze things that people do that drive me up the wall. Bonkers. Make me want to grit my teeth and throw a temper tantrum like a baby. (I still do that sometimes).
1) People who talk to you in the bathroom. This is NOT okay. Hello, I'm doing my bizness uin here, I dont need to be chatting about the weather, or my shoes, or whatever. I don't really want to breathe more than I have to while I'm on the porcelain throne, so leave me in peace, please. Next time someone starts to speak to me through the stall, I'm going to say "hold on, courtesy flush for your sake!" and see if that doesn't shut them up.
2) People who have B.O. Now, I know I can't judge them very much because my mom called me "B.O. Plenty" in high school. Since my other nicknames were "Anus" and "Beast"--I really didn't complain too much. Why couldn't I just be Ash, or something that wasn't degrading? How do you think I felt when I was walking down the halls of Junior High with people trailing after me and calling me "Anus" or "Anie"???? I cringe, more so than when my fake boob insert fell out in class.
3) Annoying salespeople at clothing stores. This is just horrific. Ever had someone follow you around and repeatedly ask if you need help? I said no the first time, that's not going to change. I said no again, so don't show me an ugly sweater. Finally, you ask me again your asking for a shiner or a swift kick in the ass.
4) Slow people, in any way shape or form. There is NOTHING worse than walking behind someone in a narrow hall and they are just be-boppin around at a negative mile per hour pace. You can't scoot around them, and no amount of huffing and puffing makes them even care to hustle. Slow drivers--I hate you, I wish I could turn my windshield wiper fluid so it would spray in front and on your back windshield, I want you to suffer in the bathroom next to someone who talks on their cell phone or worse, to you while you are doing your bizness.
5) People who chew with their mouths open. I don't want to see your shrimp and grits, tube steak (also known as a hot dog, but I hate hot dogs, don't even get me started on Cheesy Jumbo weeners) or even your McDonald's Big Mac all chewed up and swimming around in your gullet. My grandfather (love him to death) thinks that it is a fabulous idea to TALK with his mouth full of food, and I almost vom every time. Most of the time it's just baby barfs, though (can we bring back that term?)
6) Talking on the phone. If you are my friend, or know me at all, you know I hate talking on the phone. I mean, it's terrible. Email me, text me, skype me or write a message in the sky. I don't. want. to. talk. on. the. phone. And don't leave me a long voicemail, I won't listen to it unless you are drunk and it's funny.
7) Finally, the best for last. The words "nest" and "seed." Dont say them in my presence, please. Maybe you can call them watermelon "teardrops" or flower "babies." Not seeds, please. I dont even like typing that word out. Nest is just nasty.
Faithfully always annoyed with human habits,
Your new blogger
Friday, August 27, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
"Mom, you ate me???"
Another childhood story today.
Marlea Foster, my dear mother, is quite a unique individual. She wanted my sister and me to maintain our innocent childhood for as long as possible. This included making me wear smocked dress until like, 6th grade (automatic nerd-dom for me), giving me a magic elf that "flew" around the room until age 15 or so, and telling me that I came from her mouth.
Three things: I don't think anyone else on the face of this planet thought for a second that they were born out of their mother's mouth. Belly button, maybe. Stork--a good explanation. But mouth??? I made the mistake of thinking this until age 5 or 6. Boy was I rudely awakened when a friend told me the truth (this was the same girl who told me Santa Claus didn't exist, mind you,and the former realization was worse).
On a related note, my parents decided it would be a great idea to show me my mother's ultrasound one day when I was little. This was back when ultrasounds were black and white and on a VHS and, well, the baby looked like a blob. Regardless, I was shocked and horrified to see that I was indeed in my mother's belly. They claim that I screamed, "YOU ATE ME????" and ran out crying. Similar reaction happened when I found out I wasn't extracted from my mother's mouth with "invisible forceps." WTF.
Now, who had a magic elf until the age of 15? Me. I figured out he wasn't real before then, but my mom made me keep him because my sister is 7 years younger--and how dare I corrupt her childlike belief. I think the moment my dad decided to make the magic elf "fly" and land on my lightbulb in my bedside lamp was the moment I knew he was not real. His legs burned to a crisp and despite the ace bandages my dad wrapped around him, the elf never quite gave me the same sense of magic.
My childhood was interesting, to say the least. What made it even more interesting was that I was spanked with a wooden spoon named "Mr. Woodie" on quite a regular basis. I dont even want to go there right now. My parents still think they didn't spank me enough. I thought my routine daily pop was quite a satisfactory amount. Maybe they should have given the wooden spoon another name.
Until tomorrow,
Edible Baby
Marlea Foster, my dear mother, is quite a unique individual. She wanted my sister and me to maintain our innocent childhood for as long as possible. This included making me wear smocked dress until like, 6th grade (automatic nerd-dom for me), giving me a magic elf that "flew" around the room until age 15 or so, and telling me that I came from her mouth.
Three things: I don't think anyone else on the face of this planet thought for a second that they were born out of their mother's mouth. Belly button, maybe. Stork--a good explanation. But mouth??? I made the mistake of thinking this until age 5 or 6. Boy was I rudely awakened when a friend told me the truth (this was the same girl who told me Santa Claus didn't exist, mind you,and the former realization was worse).
On a related note, my parents decided it would be a great idea to show me my mother's ultrasound one day when I was little. This was back when ultrasounds were black and white and on a VHS and, well, the baby looked like a blob. Regardless, I was shocked and horrified to see that I was indeed in my mother's belly. They claim that I screamed, "YOU ATE ME????" and ran out crying. Similar reaction happened when I found out I wasn't extracted from my mother's mouth with "invisible forceps." WTF.
Now, who had a magic elf until the age of 15? Me. I figured out he wasn't real before then, but my mom made me keep him because my sister is 7 years younger--and how dare I corrupt her childlike belief. I think the moment my dad decided to make the magic elf "fly" and land on my lightbulb in my bedside lamp was the moment I knew he was not real. His legs burned to a crisp and despite the ace bandages my dad wrapped around him, the elf never quite gave me the same sense of magic.
My childhood was interesting, to say the least. What made it even more interesting was that I was spanked with a wooden spoon named "Mr. Woodie" on quite a regular basis. I dont even want to go there right now. My parents still think they didn't spank me enough. I thought my routine daily pop was quite a satisfactory amount. Maybe they should have given the wooden spoon another name.
Until tomorrow,
Edible Baby
Monday, August 23, 2010
Kids have no filter.
This little anecdote will be a combination of both a childhood story of my own and a babysitting tale or two. I'm an adult now, but every now and then I find that I stick my foot in my mouth. Or sometimes I say something inappropriate in a formal setting. Or sometimes I just have diarrhea of the mouth. As Forrest Gump once wisely said, "sh*t happens."
Little Thomas that I babysit has said several things that have caused much trauma in my life. Re-evaluation of diets, consideration of a two day cleanse, etc. Let's just go through these quotes of Thomas' in chronological order.
1) In about 2007, when I weighed maybe 15 pounds less than now, I was sitting on the couch watching Disney with the kids (FML) when Thomas pointed at my stomach and blurted out, "Do you have a baby in there?!?" Shocked, I said in what I hoped was a calm voice, "No Thomas...why would you ask that?" He promptly retorted, "'Cause your belly is so fat." OMG. No words to express my horror. I mean, I knew I was developing a bagel bite down there but a full sized bagel with cream cheese? Heaven help me. I ran to the bathroom and considered liposuction for a nanosecond and then went back to eating chocolate chips with the kids.
2) On my trip to Cabo in the summer of 2008, Thomas again surprised me, but at least this time it wasn't talking about my potential pregnancy. I love these kids and their parents, no lie--I mean they took me to Cabo we're so close. But let me tell you how close I'm NOT going to get to these kids. Every morning I woke up to a beautiful sunshine-y day--at about 6:30 am because that's when children rise. How are people parents, seriously? Anyways, one morning at about 6 I hear Thomas yelling. I couldn't quite make out the words...I wanted to put the pillow over my ears and go back to sleep..but he was saying something about his bottom, so naturally I was curious. The yells got louder and louder until finally I figured out that he was indeed screaming: "CAN SOMEBODY WIPE MY BOTTOM?????" At that point, I decided yes, I would put my pillow over my ears and at least pretend to be asleep because there is no way in hell I was wiping a 4 year old's butt at 6 in the morning, Cabo trip or not. Not on my agenda of things I want to do in this life (I guess my husband's screwed if I ever get married and/or have children).
3) I was babysitting last week when the typical Thomas refused to get out of the bathtub. It was nearing bedtime and I was getting frustrated, so I started chanting to him: "You are slow as a turtle you are slow as a turtle yeah yeah yeah yeah." He didn't even miss a beat, people, before responding "You have a big fat bootie, you have a big fat bootie!" He then stopped, pondered for a second and said matter of factly, "It's actually TRUE." Ouch. I mean, yes my little sister calls me Ghetto Bootie but I dont need to be reminded that I have quite the cushion down there by a 7 year old. This kid is going to cause me to become a vegan or something.
4) Finally, I must admit that I do not judge little Thomas, for I was a hellian myself at his age. My dad (affectionately known as B.D.F.--Big Daddy Foster) loves to tell this story. My mom, also known as Marlea Foster, is one of the most prim and proper Southern belles that walks the earth. She made us go to manner school, made me wear make up at like, age 8, and even cuts her bagels with a knife and fork. So, you can imagine her surprise and horror when she took me to the grocery store and someone on the same aisle let one fly. Ripped one. An audible one. At age 4, I had no filter, you see. So I thought it would be a good idea to wildly look around and start yelling, "Who's pooting????" "Who's pooting????" My mom whipped that grocery cart to the next aisle as fast as she could. Unfortuntely for her, the fart phantom decided to join the same aisle and LET ANOTHER FART FLY. Well, this just wasn't going to "fly" with me. I then yelled, "WHO'S DOING ALL THAT POOTING?"
At that point, my mother gave up and fled the store.
Until tomorrow,
Your Faithful Fart Finder
Little Thomas that I babysit has said several things that have caused much trauma in my life. Re-evaluation of diets, consideration of a two day cleanse, etc. Let's just go through these quotes of Thomas' in chronological order.
1) In about 2007, when I weighed maybe 15 pounds less than now, I was sitting on the couch watching Disney with the kids (FML) when Thomas pointed at my stomach and blurted out, "Do you have a baby in there?!?" Shocked, I said in what I hoped was a calm voice, "No Thomas...why would you ask that?" He promptly retorted, "'Cause your belly is so fat." OMG. No words to express my horror. I mean, I knew I was developing a bagel bite down there but a full sized bagel with cream cheese? Heaven help me. I ran to the bathroom and considered liposuction for a nanosecond and then went back to eating chocolate chips with the kids.
2) On my trip to Cabo in the summer of 2008, Thomas again surprised me, but at least this time it wasn't talking about my potential pregnancy. I love these kids and their parents, no lie--I mean they took me to Cabo we're so close. But let me tell you how close I'm NOT going to get to these kids. Every morning I woke up to a beautiful sunshine-y day--at about 6:30 am because that's when children rise. How are people parents, seriously? Anyways, one morning at about 6 I hear Thomas yelling. I couldn't quite make out the words...I wanted to put the pillow over my ears and go back to sleep..but he was saying something about his bottom, so naturally I was curious. The yells got louder and louder until finally I figured out that he was indeed screaming: "CAN SOMEBODY WIPE MY BOTTOM?????" At that point, I decided yes, I would put my pillow over my ears and at least pretend to be asleep because there is no way in hell I was wiping a 4 year old's butt at 6 in the morning, Cabo trip or not. Not on my agenda of things I want to do in this life (I guess my husband's screwed if I ever get married and/or have children).
3) I was babysitting last week when the typical Thomas refused to get out of the bathtub. It was nearing bedtime and I was getting frustrated, so I started chanting to him: "You are slow as a turtle you are slow as a turtle yeah yeah yeah yeah." He didn't even miss a beat, people, before responding "You have a big fat bootie, you have a big fat bootie!" He then stopped, pondered for a second and said matter of factly, "It's actually TRUE." Ouch. I mean, yes my little sister calls me Ghetto Bootie but I dont need to be reminded that I have quite the cushion down there by a 7 year old. This kid is going to cause me to become a vegan or something.
4) Finally, I must admit that I do not judge little Thomas, for I was a hellian myself at his age. My dad (affectionately known as B.D.F.--Big Daddy Foster) loves to tell this story. My mom, also known as Marlea Foster, is one of the most prim and proper Southern belles that walks the earth. She made us go to manner school, made me wear make up at like, age 8, and even cuts her bagels with a knife and fork. So, you can imagine her surprise and horror when she took me to the grocery store and someone on the same aisle let one fly. Ripped one. An audible one. At age 4, I had no filter, you see. So I thought it would be a good idea to wildly look around and start yelling, "Who's pooting????" "Who's pooting????" My mom whipped that grocery cart to the next aisle as fast as she could. Unfortuntely for her, the fart phantom decided to join the same aisle and LET ANOTHER FART FLY. Well, this just wasn't going to "fly" with me. I then yelled, "WHO'S DOING ALL THAT POOTING?"
At that point, my mother gave up and fled the store.
Until tomorrow,
Your Faithful Fart Finder
Friday, August 20, 2010
"That would only happen to you, Ashley."
The title of this inaugural post says it all. A friend of mine recently told me this upon hearing one of my many (unfortunate...but humorous) stories. The particular story she was referring to? Well, it involved accidentally copying and pasting a quite...inappropriate...text to a coworker. A coworker who is a mom of 4, perfectly put together and the pinnacle of well-mannered. My life was a lot less complicated before texting. And I text a lot.
This blog will attempt to capture these situations that occur to me on somewhat of a daily basis. Topics that will be covered:
1) Babysitting Shenanigans
2) Office Etiquette and Lack-there-of
3) Observations and frustrations with other specimens of humanity
4) Potty humor (this is MY blog, people. And if you know me, you know I couldn't write a blog without this subject being in here every now and then).
5) Unbelievable and spectacular childhood events
6) Unfortunate dates and the general lack of chivalry of young men these days
7) And last, but not least, nights on the town. Many things happen to me on these nights. Blame it on the alcohol?
This blog intends to fully express myself. Keep in mind that some of the things you read might be disturbing. But the intention of this blog is to be the source of many, many deep belly laughs.
I will now give you a simple preview of a story from each above topic.
1) I have been babysitting two children for five years now. They are now 7 and 10 (boy and girl respectively). In these 5 years, many things have happened as the children grow up and become fascinated with certain (ahem) aspects of maturing. The boy has had quite a fascination with what he likes to call his "batteries" "peanuts" or...even "tacos." He has recently gotten in trouble for kicking other kids in the batteries at school. Batteries, people? Where does this even come from? But who am I to tell him the technical term? Personally, I think a brand of duracell is much more appropriate.
2) What is it with coworkers? It's like they can annoy you more than a family member, more than traffic, more than rain on your wedding day (thank you, Alanis Morrissette). 5 things that are not okay in the office: talking on your cell phone in the bathroom, taking reading material into the bathroom, leaving forever voicemail messages when an email would suffice, eating smelly fried chicken at your desk and bebopping around with a smile on your face on a Monday morning. No, I dont want to talk to you yet.
3) Slow people. That's about all I have to say. If you walk slowly, I don't like you. If you talk slowly, I don't like you. And if you drive slowly...heaven help you. Stop sauntering and get to it. Life's short, peeps, and I'm always in a hurry to get to Chick-fil-a or the bathroom.
4) The other day I had an event to work at the Greenville Zoo. The event was winding down and I was just chillin' with a coworker observing the monkeys. Upon her random observations such as, "Can you believe we came from them," and "I love animals and the zoo," I let a silent but deadly air biscuit float her way (that's an emission of gas, by the way). Upon receipt of the scent, she then commented, "And then the zoo smells come," frowned, and walked swiftly away. My dad always said "Farts are like children, the only ones you can stand are your own." He said that Confucious said that....not so sure it was him but I kinda like to think so. It's a wise saying.
5) Upon reaching the 9th grade, I was probably about the only girl who hadn't gone through puberty. I was teased relentlessly about my flat chest, and eventually I broke down and got some gel inserts my mom encouraged me to put in my bra to make myself feel better. What I was thinking, I have no clue--obviously everyone would know something was up if I mysteriously grew boobs overnight. I'm pretty sure they knew when one fell out in English class. That sucked.
6) My most classic date of the last year: Boy asks me out via text. Typical. Boy asks me to meet me there. Humiliating. Boy says let's go to Monterrey's. I die inside. Boy then proceeds to ask what cheapest beer is (WE'RE AT MONTERREY'S, WTF???) and chews all his food with his mouth open. You would think things couldn't get any worse...until I paid for the meal. This. is. not. okay.
7) I didn't start drinking until I was of legal age. This has caused me to act like a high schooler for most of college and the few years after when I do go out. This includes but is not limited to: drinking smirnoff ices at 21, riding a bike up McDaniel at 4 am after one spectacular night out, eating a Big Mac at 3 am (that's happened several times), taking a 7 hour shower. Specific stories to come.
I think that about sums it up for my blog's official introduction. Let me know your thoughts! Until Monday...
This blog will attempt to capture these situations that occur to me on somewhat of a daily basis. Topics that will be covered:
1) Babysitting Shenanigans
2) Office Etiquette and Lack-there-of
3) Observations and frustrations with other specimens of humanity
4) Potty humor (this is MY blog, people. And if you know me, you know I couldn't write a blog without this subject being in here every now and then).
5) Unbelievable and spectacular childhood events
6) Unfortunate dates and the general lack of chivalry of young men these days
7) And last, but not least, nights on the town. Many things happen to me on these nights. Blame it on the alcohol?
This blog intends to fully express myself. Keep in mind that some of the things you read might be disturbing. But the intention of this blog is to be the source of many, many deep belly laughs.
I will now give you a simple preview of a story from each above topic.
1) I have been babysitting two children for five years now. They are now 7 and 10 (boy and girl respectively). In these 5 years, many things have happened as the children grow up and become fascinated with certain (ahem) aspects of maturing. The boy has had quite a fascination with what he likes to call his "batteries" "peanuts" or...even "tacos." He has recently gotten in trouble for kicking other kids in the batteries at school. Batteries, people? Where does this even come from? But who am I to tell him the technical term? Personally, I think a brand of duracell is much more appropriate.
2) What is it with coworkers? It's like they can annoy you more than a family member, more than traffic, more than rain on your wedding day (thank you, Alanis Morrissette). 5 things that are not okay in the office: talking on your cell phone in the bathroom, taking reading material into the bathroom, leaving forever voicemail messages when an email would suffice, eating smelly fried chicken at your desk and bebopping around with a smile on your face on a Monday morning. No, I dont want to talk to you yet.
3) Slow people. That's about all I have to say. If you walk slowly, I don't like you. If you talk slowly, I don't like you. And if you drive slowly...heaven help you. Stop sauntering and get to it. Life's short, peeps, and I'm always in a hurry to get to Chick-fil-a or the bathroom.
4) The other day I had an event to work at the Greenville Zoo. The event was winding down and I was just chillin' with a coworker observing the monkeys. Upon her random observations such as, "Can you believe we came from them," and "I love animals and the zoo," I let a silent but deadly air biscuit float her way (that's an emission of gas, by the way). Upon receipt of the scent, she then commented, "And then the zoo smells come," frowned, and walked swiftly away. My dad always said "Farts are like children, the only ones you can stand are your own." He said that Confucious said that....not so sure it was him but I kinda like to think so. It's a wise saying.
5) Upon reaching the 9th grade, I was probably about the only girl who hadn't gone through puberty. I was teased relentlessly about my flat chest, and eventually I broke down and got some gel inserts my mom encouraged me to put in my bra to make myself feel better. What I was thinking, I have no clue--obviously everyone would know something was up if I mysteriously grew boobs overnight. I'm pretty sure they knew when one fell out in English class. That sucked.
6) My most classic date of the last year: Boy asks me out via text. Typical. Boy asks me to meet me there. Humiliating. Boy says let's go to Monterrey's. I die inside. Boy then proceeds to ask what cheapest beer is (WE'RE AT MONTERREY'S, WTF???) and chews all his food with his mouth open. You would think things couldn't get any worse...until I paid for the meal. This. is. not. okay.
7) I didn't start drinking until I was of legal age. This has caused me to act like a high schooler for most of college and the few years after when I do go out. This includes but is not limited to: drinking smirnoff ices at 21, riding a bike up McDaniel at 4 am after one spectacular night out, eating a Big Mac at 3 am (that's happened several times), taking a 7 hour shower. Specific stories to come.
I think that about sums it up for my blog's official introduction. Let me know your thoughts! Until Monday...
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