Easter Croquet

I played croquet yesterday and came in last place. I hate croquet. But more importantly, I hate playing croquet with old men (a friend's dad participated) who look all sweet, kind and innocent (like this "nice old man" to the left) but who turn out to take their senior citizenship and pull one over on you.





I attribute my loss to my second turn when I had the opportunity to launch this old man's ball into outer space but took pity on him because he, well, he looked like he could use a break. WRONG. The next time around he didn't even think twice about roqueting my ball down the hill and way out of play. It was a hit from which I never recovered. Lesson taken from this: don't trust "nice old men" and I can't wait to be old and stick it to people because your old age engenders sympathy.

From Mother, with Guilt

So last Sunday at about 3pm the lower right quadrant of my stomach area started hurting. Hurting enough that I laid in the fetal position for the remainder of the day and a continued so for a good portion of Monday. Fun. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was feeling better but still somewhat discomforted by the pain. At that point, I made the mistake of telling my mom I was sick with what my roommate, a lady friend of mine and a few others with limited to no medical experience diagnosed as appendicitis. That was a mistake.

I tried with no success to tell her that I did not believe that I had appendicitis. I figured that if I had had appendicitis my symptoms would have probably been much worse than what they were and at that point I was going to wait it out. MISTAKE. Shortly after explaining that I wasn't going to go to the doctor, she hung up on me. Thanks, mom. Soon after that, I get a call from my sister (telling me to go to the Dr), and two of my brother in laws inquiring as to my health.

On Wednesday I still haven't made a Dr. appointment and my mom calls to tell me, "you can go and have your appendix out and spend one day in the hospital. Or you can wait for it to burst and spend 30 days in the hospital." Scare tactics...

Then on Thursday, I get this email, "On another note: I am preparing a bed for you because I see in my crystal ball that you will be returning VERY SOON.....for home nursing by mother to recover from a burst appendix. It will take 6 months to one year and after you recover (if) you will be assigned to a family ward. I JUST CAN'T come to San Diego and be away from my cat and my personal computer. So just bear that in mind while you're postponing your Dr. visit. Love and kisses from your concerned mother." I am speechless.

I bet you're all dying to know how this turned out. I'll tell you. It turned out exactly how I thought it would turn out. I went to the lousy Dr. on Friday only to be told that I don't have appendicitis but they don't know exactly what is causing the pain in the lower right quadrant. I had to pay $250 (high deductible insurance) for that one. Awesome. Thanks, mom. I love you too.

The Mailbox

Walked to the mailbox today and for some reason I gave the junk mail two seconds of my time, at which point I noticed the title on the post that said, "MONEY MAILER 'Like Getting Money in Your Mailbox.'"

That's funny. The last time I checked I didn't take money out of my mailbox and IMMEDIATELY throw it into the garbage can like I would have normally done with this "money mailer" had I not been so upset by its title that I had to take a photo of it first and make a posting.

Pick Your Battles

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who do their dishes before they eat and those who do them after. Or a new twist on this saying could be, there are two kinds of people in this world: those who get their dishes from the drying rack before they eat and those who get them from their storage space/cupboard. It turns out that for the most part my roommates are the former. After putting the dishes away every day I decided I would just stack them as high as I could and see if I could create a Tower of Babel out of dishes that would reach the heavens. But my real plan was to stack them so high that getting a dish from the bottom of the pile would prove difficult enough that it might motivate someone to put them away.

As I was taking this picture my roommate walked in and asked what I was doing. I told him of my plan and he said,"you're wasting your time." Later that afternoon my language was confounded for trying to build a tower to heaven made of dishes and then I needed a plate from the bottom of the pile and ended up putting them all away. Grrrrrr.

Lick Your Wounds......Candy

This might be the most disgusting candy idea known to man. I guess it's designed for those crazy elementary school kids who need their sugar fix during class but can't get it because eating candy during class is against the rules. No worries. Somebody has come up with a clever way to get around that rule. Have a candy that looks like a band-aid with a sugar coated "wound." Sick. Who thinks of things like this?

My Transaction Sh*%

I sincerely dislike paying upwards of $2.50 at times to use another bank's ATM. Furious. If my mom still reads my blog (fingers crossed that she doesn't), I'm going to catch some heat for this post--even though it's "edited"and I'm 30. My life...

SUPER BOWL = SUPER HATE

The Super (lame) Bowl started today around 3:30pm. Church didn't get out until 4pm. I was invited to a get together at a friends house and thought it would be perfect--I'd get home from church, change clothes and then head over to Rob's to eat some food and catch the last half of the sporting event, which I didn't really care all that much about anyway but whatever. All was going to plan and with about 20 mins of game left on the clock, my roommate tells me of another party happening down the street with a crowd a little more single friendly. Anyway, I say goodbye to Robert and all his married friends and leave with the score showing the Patriots 7 and the Giants 3.

We walk in to the next house, extend a cordial greeting and as I sit down to look at the score I notice that it's Patriots 0 and the Giants 0. I'm bit confused for a second and then that's when it hits me--I've just walked into a Super Bowl party that's been Tivoed--and we're watching it from basically the beginning. Somebody shoot me now.

Trying not to be too big a fun hater, I bite my tongue and next thing I know I'm asleep, which is good. I wake up and walk outside and call several people in an attempt to kill some time only to return with 4 minutes still remaining. Can this game end already...

Finally at around 9pm the Tivoed game is over. For someone who doesn't give a rip about the Super Bowl, I endured about 5 1/2 quarters of it today for a grand total of around 4.5 hours--about 4 hours more than I planned. Great. Hours of my life I have lost forever.

FURIOUS HATE

I know the feeling all to well of "furious hate." I experience it every day. Read this article from Slate Magazine that my cousin sent me (thanks, summer). I only wish I had submitted a comment regarding furious hate. I did go see Cloverfield the other night and one of the trailers for the movie "Skid Marks" produced red hot fury/furious hate. I have caught myself thinking/composing a letter in my head that I'd like to write to the movie company/executives that created it. I'm not joking either. After reading this article, specifically the part that said, "furious hate gets results," I am going to write those donkeys and give them a piece of my mind.

ADS WE HATE/FURIOUS HATE

Kids These Days

The other day I went out and helped my roommate do some advertising for his window washing business. This consists of punching a hole in a glossy flyer, inserting a rubber band through that hole and then hanging it on the front door of some unsuspecting individual's home. Pretty easy work. Anyway, I'm walking down the street minding my own business when I see potential trouble up ahead--teenage kids walking home from school.

As we approach one another a thirteenish kid with a mop top hair cut yelled at me, "hello." To which the I don't reply hoping to avoid giving him any attention. Well, this doesn't work so hot as the two girls he's with start laughing. Wanting more attention he said, "hey, what are you selling?" This time I can't ignore him and I said, "Window washing. you want to buy some?" He replied, "no, but can I have one of your rubber bands?" Wanting this interaction to be over as quickly as possible I said, "Sure but don't hurt yourself." He said, "ok". I hand him the rubber band and two seconds later I hear him scream out in mock pain, "Ohhh. Ouch. Thanks a lot for giving me that rubber band."

Damn kids.

Dude, I don't hate these.

I can't decide which "dude" moment is my favorite. Just when I think one is the best, I laugh at another. These few I find particularly enjoyable:

Basketball
Football
Guy butting/cutting in line

A very close second is when his roommate walks across in his underwear and the near car wreck.

I have watched these probably 15 times. I laugh every time.

Worst Movie of My Life

My roommate rented a movie called the Last Legion. Do all or yourselves a giant favor and NEVER in your life watch it--EVER.

I really wish I were watching this instead: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN