Tuesday, December 22, 2009


Another e-mail that I can't resist sharing:

Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??


Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.


Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best:

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and ...


I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the
living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged
from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! A three second burst would be considered conservative!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!

P.s... My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it! If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

A Christmas Adventure with Grandma

I received this in an e-mail and wanted to share it. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did:

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

I fled to Grandma's house because I knew Grandma always told the truth.

Grandma was home, and I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, it had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten- dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. When I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out at recess during the winter.

His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... For my friend Bobby, …. He doesn't have a coat". The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). Then grandma wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on a card -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have a Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

"He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree".

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Baseball is NOT My Sport!

Disclaimer: I'm going to give you fair warning that I am not the best writer in the world. So if bad punctuation and grammar ticks you off..............Well too bad because there is bound to be some in here. ;)

I finally have a few spare minutes, and since it is baseball season I thought I might tell you why I haven't like baseball since I was a teenager.....

5th Grade: We were playing baseball at recess one day and I was the catcher. I told the batter and pitcher to wait a minute, but they didn't listen. The batter swung, I was too close, and they ended up hitting me in the mouth with the bat. Luckily no teeth were lost, but my face did swell.

6th Grade: I had a backstop fall on me at school. Yep, you read that right. A BACKSTOP! It hit my lower back causing it to swell up. Not sure what kind of damage it did, but I still have problems with that area.

8th Grade: We were playing baseball (using a hardball cuz that was all we had) after church one Sunday. I was in the left field and my brother was in front of me. I was bored so I was standing there talking to one of the other girls playing outfield. The guy up to bat hit a line drive. My brother didn't think he could catch it so he ducked. All I remember was instant pain and then hitting the ground. It broke all the bones around my left eye, broke all the blood vessels in my eye, and scratched the retina. The entire left side of my face swelled to twice it's size and I had a HUGE black eye. For the next couple of years every couple of months my eye would swell up for no reason and you could push the area right next to my eye and feel fluids rush up and down my face.

I never played baseball again!

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I’m really not as nice as everyone thinks I am

Disclaimer: I'm going to give you fair warning that I am not the best writer in the world. So if bad punctuation and grammar ticks you off..............Well too bad because there is bound to be some in here. ;)

I used to take step aerobic classes. I am not the most coordinated person in the world, but I can do step aerobics. I know it’s surprising, but normally I can even do them without falling off the step. It’s quite an accomplishment for me considering the fact that I can actually fall up the stairs.

I normally like to be in the front row that way I can see everything the instructor does. It just makes things easier for me. I got there a little later than normal one day and ended up in the back of the class. As I was waiting for the class to start I noticed the girl in front of me. She was one of those perfect little 20 yr olds. Little bitty, blonde, perfect legs, perfect butt, perfect hair, perfect makeup, cute little matching workout outfit, 20 yr olds. I hated her on the spot. How dare she come in and workout in front of me. She didn’t need to be there. I shouldn’t have to stare at something that looked that perfect when I didn’t.

As the class started I began to wonder if I would get in trouble if I kicked the step out from underneath her. Could I possibly get away with it? I could say it was an accident. No one would have to know that I did it just to see her fall on her perfect little butt.

Wait a second.

Hold on.

She just fell of her step.

I didn’t do it. I swear.

She did it again.

Bwahahahahaha! She couldn’t move without falling off of it.

The perfect little thing wasn’t so perfect. She was even more uncoordinated than me. I LOVED IT!

Half way through the class I started mentally patting myself on the back.

Then it happened.

I slipped off the step.

Dang it! Stupid little perfect 20 something yr old. With her perfect little body………………….

Monday, April 13, 2009

Why I don't do snow sports!

Disclaimer: I'm going to give you fair warning that I am not the best writer in the world. So if bad punctuation and grammar ticks you off..............Well too bad because there is bound to be some in here. ;)

Its freezing outside, there are only three people here at the office (including me) and I'm bored. The snow and ice remind me of a blonde moment story from when I was about 16. Wellllllllll, its actually closer to being a story about how klutzy I am than it is a blonde moment.

My Mom had been staying in Spokane with Lisa (my sister) and Mike (her husband) for a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. So they decided that we would have it there instead of at home. By the time we got there they had about 6 inches of snow on the ground. That evening Lisa and Mike decided to take the me, Petie, and Mary sledding (we were using inner tubes though) in order to give Mom and Dad a chance to be alone. As we were leaving the last thing Mom said was "Be careful!"

The hill that we went to was pretty big. It had trees on both sides, but there was a clearing that was about the length of a football field. As we stood there waiting for our turn to go down Mike told us not to worry if our tube turned us around backwards because we were far enough away from the trees that we should be safe. Now being the cautious person that I am, I let everyone else go ahead of me so that I could be sure that they made it safely down the hill. Sure enough each person that went came back safely. Now it was my turn. I started of in the middle just like everyone else had. There I was shooting down the hill. The tube had turned me backwards, but I wasn't worried because I had seen everyone else do the same thing.. The cold breeze and snowflakes were hitting my face. I was having a blast. I was about half way down the hill I looked up and saw everyone is screaming and waving. I smiled and waved back. Then tube started to turned me back around, and that is when I saw it. I was heading straight into a HUGE tree. I quickly threw myself off the tube, but I just wasn't quick enough. My leg hit the tree. Mike ran (slipping and sliding) down the hill to me. He checked my leg and said that he didn't think it was broken, but it already swelling so I had probably sprained it pretty bad. Needless to say we all packed up and headed back to the house.

***This is probably when you are thinking that the story is over, BUT you would be wrong. ***

We got back to the house and I had to spend the rest of the evening laying on the couch with an icepack on my leg. Every time I went anywhere I either crawled or hopped. I was just thankful that I hadn't broke anything. Soon it was time for bed. Lisa and Mike lived in an old two story house. Mary and I were staying in one of the rooms upstairs. So had to literally I crawl up the stairs. Mary went right to sleep, but I stayed up reading for a while. There was window by the bed that had that old type of wooden window frames. Every now and then I would stop reading to look out the window. It was probably about 1 or 2 am when I noticed that it had started snowing again. So I did what any normal kid would do. I opened the window because I was planning on sticking my head out so that the snow would hit my face. I had just gotten the window open and I put my hands down to brace me. Before I could put my head out the window it slammed shut and locked. When it slammed shut if landed on my fingers. In fact I could see my fingers through the window. I started screaming my head off. I woke the entire house up. They all came racing into the room thinking that I was killing Mary. Mike had to push down on the window in order to get it open. It was EXTREMELY painful, but once again I lucked out and hadn't broken anything.

I ended up spending Thanksgiving sitting on the couch, leg propped up with an ice pack on it, and both hands sitting in bowls of ice. NOT fun! To this day I don't like doing snow sports.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Plumbing/Blonde Moment

Disclaimer: I'm going to give you fair warning that I am not the best writer in the world. So if bad punctuation and grammar ticks you off..............Well too bad because there is bound to be some in here. ;)

I can't believe that I'm actually going to post this, but I'm bored and needed something write about. So here you go.

A while back I had a plumbing problem. I normally take my showers at night so that my hair will be dry in the morning. It was Thursday night and I took my shower like normal, but the bath tub wouldn't drain. (This didn't surprise me since my roommate and I both have long hair). So I went to work the next morning complaining that my bath tub was clogged. One of the girls at work told me that she always just pours bleach down her drain and it eats away the hair. So I went home that night and poured bleach down my drain.

**stop laughing this isn't the funny part yet**.

Of course the next morning it was still plugged, only now I couldn't poor anything else in it due to the fact that the bleach was still in it and you can't mix chemicals. Now I had another problem. How was I going to take a shower? So I did what any normal person would do, I improvised. I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. Then I decided that I really needed to shave so I sat on one corner of the sink with my legs going over both sinks to the other side. (I pretty much took a bath in it) I did this all weekend long.

**hey I like to be clean, what can I say**

Monday morning I got up and the bathtub had finally drained so I turned the water on to see if it had completely unclogged, but it hadn't so now I had water in the tub again. Since there wasn't any chemicals in it anymore I poured some stuff called EasyFlo down it. As soon as I poured it in, smoke started coming up out of the drain and it smelled like burnt hair. I immediately started praying that the stuff wouldn't eat holes in my plumbing. I just sat there and watched thinking soon everything would drain. Not a chance. I had to leave to pick up a co-worker to taker her to work, but I was worried about leaving with this stuff still in my pipes since the directions said to immediately run cold water for 5 minutes after the drain was unclogged. So I went and picked up Dee, ran her to work, explained my situation to my boss, and then hurried home.

On the way home I received a phone call from my best friend. She told me that they had had a clog and they'd had to use the whole bottle of EasyFlo at once to get it to work. Now being the dingy person I am I decided to take her advice. I went in and finished pouring the whole bottle down my drain. I waited, and waited, and waited, and nothing happened. By this time I realize that I'm going to have to suck it up and call a plumber. So that is what I did.

About two hours later they show up. I began explaining the whole problem to the guys and one of them tells the other to go out and get some tools. He then proceeds to go to the tub. He looks down and then looks at me and asks "So does the drain stop on the tub work?" I told him "Yes" He flips the little drain stop knob and everything drained. He then turned to me (trying not to laugh) and said "that will be $65.00". He was joking of course. In fact he didn't even charge me a trip charge (I think that he just wanted to get out of there so that he could laugh his head off).

Now you know just how dingy I can be. I did learn some things out of this though. First, my legs are the exact length of my two kitchen sinks (did I tell you that I was kind of short?). Second, never listen to people at work for plumbing advice. Last but not least, ALWAYS check the plug first.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

My First (and only) Pair of Roller Blades

Disclaimer: I'm going to give you fair warning that I am not the best writer in the world. So if bad punctuation and grammar ticks you off..............Well too bad because there is bound to be some in here. ;)

Here is another blonde moment for you. Before I start, I guess that I should probably describe myself to you. Im 5'1/4", long dark hair, petite body, with more than enough on top. I also have no coordination what-so-ever. Now keep this in mind as you continue to read.

Several years ago I woke up one morning and decided that I wanted to learn how to roller blade.

***Don't ask me why because I have no clue. It was just one of those moments.***

So I got up and went to the store to purchase some roller blades. I walked into the store and told the clerk that I had decided that I wanted to learn how to roller blade. The guy gave me the strangest surprised look and asked "Why?" I told him that I just felt like it. He took one look at me laughed and said, "I'm sorry but I just sold our last fanny pad!"

*** HOW RUDE!***

Now at this point most people probably would have been offended, but I'm used to it by now so I just laughed on long with him. After trying on about 5 or 6 pairs I finally made my choice. The clerk then pointed out that I would probably need some pads. So he talked me into buying a complete set (wrist, elbow, and knee). He then tried to convince me to purchase a helmet, but I had to draw the line there.

I paid for my stuff and headed to the lake.

Normally I don't like to do new things like this by myself, but I figured that I knew how to roller skate so how hard could roller blading really be? I get to the park and put on all my new stuff. Here is a little description of how I looked: My hair was in a pony tail with a baseball cap, shorts, tank top, roller blades, wrist pads, elbow pads, knee pads, cell phone in pocket, and head phones. As I stood up (actually I pulled myself up hanging on to the car door) I began to realize that this might not have been that great of an idea. I looked around and people were just whizzing by roller blading and none of them was wearing all of the pads. It was at this point that I realized that I looked like a nerd on skates, but I was determined to continue on. It took about 10 minutes and several falls to reach the sidewalk path. Once there, I finally was able to start skating. Slowly my confidence built up and I was able to start enjoying myself.

It was a beautiful day out and there were a ton of people around. I was having a great time. Weeeelllllll, I did for about 20 minutes any ways. Then my legs started to hurt and my feet started screaming out in agony. Unfortunately it was at this point that I realized that I didn't know how to stop the frickin' things. I looked up the path a little ways and saw a park bench. I remembered that when roller skating all you have do is twist your butt around and sit down. So I figured that I could do the same thing with roller blades. WRONG! I was thoroughly and completely wrong. Roller blades are not anything at all like roller skates. I rolled up to the bench, twisted, and missed it. I ended up rolling underneath it and catching myself on the bench with my arms. There I was with my breasts and arms sitting on the bench where by butt should have been. My legs were under the bench with my feet sticking out the other side. I couldn't even get enough traction to push myself out from underneath the bench. Finally after several tries I just sat down on the ground, pulled my legs out from under the bench and then crawled on top of it. I looked around to see how many people were laughing at me, and realized that not one person witnessed this embarrassing display. After that I decided to call it a day.

As I was driving home I kept thinking "I can't wait to get out and do this again!"