I didn’t wish for this

Wish.com likes to decorate my facebook wall with pictures of items they think I might want to order. Many, many, MANY pictures.

Now. to be fair, this is actually a great way to get money out of me, because I DO tend to order stuff from ads I while scrolling through facebook.

I bought a fake hair braid guaranteed to make pretty! (I blogged about it last year.) I bought those special sneaker laces from an ad that promised my kids would never have to tie their shoes again! (My kids broke them in less than a week.) I bought a snazzy gift-wrap paper cutting tool that said it would both organize my Christmas paper and streamline the wrapping process! (It didn’t fit any of my actual rolls of paper.)

None of these things quite worked out as advertised, as you can see, but I remain a sucker. Hope springs eternal, after all. I read the ads and think to myself, Maybe THIS particular plastic item shipped from a sweatshop in Asia really WILL make me prettier/ happier/more organized. Maybe I really SHOULD buy the pee-proof underwear they keep showing me, and reminding me that it’s great for women of my age.

Yeah, maybe not.

But some of the stuff wish.com advertises really has me baffled. I can’t imagine why anyone would order these things. Example #1:

In what universe would anyone wear this? Even young Julia Roberts in full Pretty Woman gear wore the same trashy stockings on BOTH LEGS.

Example #2:

What on EARTH could these be for? I don’t think they would fit in my actual mouth and operate as tooth substitutes. And even if they could, why would I need FOUR SETS AT A TIME? This baffles me.

And, finally… #3:

What IS this?!?! What is it FOR? I can’t even.

So, thanks to wish.com, but no thanks. I’ll pass.

Although, I’m still thinking about that pee-proof underwear….

How do I get home from here?

Every time I get in my car, my phone likes to tell me how close I am to my house.

I’m not sure why does this. I’m at the grocery store and I get in my car and look at the phone screen and it says helpfully, “12 minutes to get home; take Washington Road.”

Yeah I’m aware. I drove here myself. From my house. Less than an hour ago.

My 16-year-old daughter Boo has just started driving herself to school. She says her phone has decided that the high school is called “work.” And when she gets in her car in the morning, her phone says helpfully, “Would you like directions to work?”

No, I’m pretty clear on how to get there. I go there every day.

Honestly, I think my phone is just showing off at this point. It just wants me to know exactly how much it knows about me.

It’s got a slightly creepy vibe, like that old song by The Police.

My phone just wants to say, “I know where you live. I know where you work. I know where you are at all times.

“Every breath you take, I’ll be watching you.”

A Marketing Fail

So I got this in the mail. It is addressed to me personally.

It is a beautiful glossy 50 page catalog dedicated exclusively to the Chevrolet Corvette.


I don’t know who is in charge of choosing the marketing demographic for people they send this mailing to, but they need to be fired immediately.

Anyone who thinks that I can afford a vehicle of this kind or who thinks that I’m even interested in looking at 50 pages of pictures of a vehicle of this kind is wrong.

Check your marketing research, Chevrolet. You just wasted your money.

How (NOT) To Get Things Done

I’m very annoyed with Two-Hours-Ago Me, who chose to read a book after dinner.

I just came in to the kitchen and found that the dishes aren’t done.

So I guess Two-Hours-Ago Me thought it would be OK to just shove this job off onto Future Me. It seemed OK to her.

But now that I AM Future Me, I see the problem.

The dishes did not, in fact, do themselves.

Surprise, surprise.

Middle School Begins

So the twins are officially in middle school now.

I know this for sure, not just because I took them to their new sixth grade class last week and helped them navigate their class schedule and learn to open their lockers.

These are of course important middle school milestones, but today we reached another crucial middle school point: the Secret Admirer Letter.

My son received one in his locker!

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for him) it was addressed to another boy.

Hue is not my son’s name. (I don’t think it’s actually the correct spelling of any boy’s name, in fact, but that’s beside the point.)

Some poor girl put it in the wrong locker I suppose. Well, he has his twin sister to help straighten this out, and the letter will be redirected tomorrow.

The travails of middle school have definitely begun!

UPDATE: 21 August 2019

Here’s an update on the secret admirer post from yesterday:

Little Girl took the note to the intended recipient, who was in fact named Hugh (not Hue).

She explained it had been put in her brother’s locker, but of course it appeared to Hugh that it was a note from her. So in true middle school fashion he sent his friend to interrogate her.

  • Friend: So…. did you send this note?
  • Little girl: No.
  • Friend: Then… where did you get the note?
  • Little Girl: It was in my brother’s locker.
  • Friend: So… how did you know it was for my friend?
  • Little girl: Because it said his name.
  • Friend: And… how do you know his name?
  • Little girl: Because he sits next to me in first period.
  • Friend: So… you admit that he is in your class?
  • Little girl: Yes.
  • Friend: And… you admit you know his name?
  • Little girl: Yes.
  • Friend: (Moving in for the kill) How do you SPELL his name?
  • Little girl: H U G H
  • Friend: Oh. (to Hugh) She’s clean, man.

I think this kid may have a future in law enforcement.

Why does this kid have a phone?

Little Girl decided to buy a phone with money she’s saved.

I don’t know why and eleven-year-old needs a cell phone, but…..

So far she has used it mainly to take weird pictures of herself.

And text them to me, along with odd information or demands.

The good news is, I can send her messages too.

No more calling down the hall for meals!

The modern world is a strange place…

Thanks for the groceries

I started using the online grocery service at Wal-Mart.

In general, I really like it; I can order my groceries on the computer at night and pick them up the next day. They even have to load my car! Thanks, guys! I’ll let you handle it for me.

The only problem is that I can’t use my nice “sustainable shopping bags” anymore; the groceries come prepacked in plastic Wal-Mart bags. This is not really a big deal. I can recycle the plastic bags, after all.

But those plastic bags slide around like crazy in the back of my car. One day I opened the rear hatch and was almost splattered with falling salsa!

Fortunately, the jars stopped rolling JUST BEFORE they fell all the way out of the car and smashed on the concrete garage floor. Whew!

Then I took the bags inside and put them in the kitchen…..

Where I somehow managed to smash a jar MYSELF on the counter!

Hey, Wal-Mart, can you guys help me bring my stuff inside too? I don’t think I can handle it.

Valentine’s Day

So… it’s Valentine’s Day again, that special time of year when the depth of your man’s love is measured by how much he’s willing be overcharged for flowers.

Image from cartoonstock.com

Can you tell I’m not exactly a fan?

I really don’t care for the High Holidays of Obligation: Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. They seem to me like fake holidays invented to make people buy stuff in order to avoid feeling guilty.

I can feel guilty for free all year long; thanks!

But, I have had a decent Valentine’s Day or two in my time. See Valentine’s Day 2014 here.

So I guess I should stop being such a Valen-Scrooge. Maybe

What’s going on over there?

I was at at church on a Wednesday evening, sitting in my ladies’ Bible study group. On the other side of the wall, the kids were playing games. We could hear them laughing and and jumping, and occasionally yelling.

We made a few little jokes about how it sounded like fun over there. When we heard something (or someone) hitting the shared wall, I mentioned that I hoped one of the kids didn’t come crashing through like the Kool Aid Man.

At one point, my group was sitting in silent prayer, and I could clearly hear a teacher’s voice next door, calling out the names of my twins.

Specifically yelling their names. 

Little Boy and Little Girl!

LITTLE BOY AND LITTLE GIRL!

LITTLE BOY AND LITTLE GIRL!

LITTLE BOY AND LITTLE GIRL!

Like, he seriously said just their two names four times. Including the “and,” that’s seven syllables.

I was thinking, “My kids are in some serious trouble.”

But the good thing was, since we are new to the church none of the ladies in my study knew that it was MY kids getting called out.

So there’s that…

Oh, and when I asked the twins about it later, they insisted that they were NOT in fact in trouble. On no. The games teacher was just “cheering them on” in a race.

Well… maybe…