Oops – Sorry Maria

I just found out the Target Lady that I so despise is actually Maria Bamford a friend of mine from stand-up comedy days. I didn’t recognize her at all. I love Maria — she’s funny and nice — but I still hate those Target commercials.

I wrote yesterday about losing my Uncle Dick. I am extraordinarily lucky because I had a family that loved to laugh and had a great sense of humor. Not everyone can say that. So yesterday, when I was having a sad moment I think the Hirsch Humor Fairy came and tapped me on the shoulder (or the brain) because all of a sudden I heard that little voice in my head (not the little voice that tells me to run naked through the fields with a machete — that’s a different little voice) I heard that funny little voice in my head say “Gee you should have bought him some Christmas shoes.” Oh the irony. That made me laugh.

My vacation starts today. I don’t return to work until Jan 4 although I have a project to work on at home. It will be nice to have some time off. I can make a list of the resolutions I don’t plan to keep for 2011.

How To Keep A Miner Busy

Have you heard about the 33 miners in Chile who may be stuck in a hole until Christmas? I don’t know if I could do it, stay in a small confined space with 32 other people waiting for some sort of “treat” to come out a pipe.

I would be afraid of the guy who said “Hey I have an idea, let’s play a game. Let’s pretend we are soccer players whose planes have crashed in the Andes.” What are you going to do? Crawl up the 6″ pipe?
“Doctors say they plan to keep the men informed and busy.” Great. They’ll yell down the pipe “You’re still stuck!” and then try to start up a rousing game of I Spy. “I spy with my little eye some dirt.” Game over.
Tomorrow get ready for a session of “Hide and Seek.”

Happy Monday????

Now that the Minnesota State Fair is almost here the cliche you’ll hear most often is “I can’t believe summer is almost over” and it will be accompanied by a rather sad face. I’ve learned not to reply with what’s in my heart but rather to nod and smile and say “It sure goes fast.” What I want to say is “Thank God it’s almost over.”

I really don’t care much for summer. At least not as an adult. When you’re a kid it’s great because you don’t have school and you get to pretty much goof off for three months. My favorite part of summer was the four weeks I’d spend at camp. I went to Lyman Lodge out on Lake Minnetonka. It’s not there anymore — the YWCA sold it and now there are mini-mansions where there use to be cabins. I know those four weeks at camp were also my mom’s favorite four weeks of the summer. It meant four weeks without being afraid every time the phone rang it would be a neighbor saying “Do you know what Mary is up to now?” I think the worse call she got along those lines were when my friend Debbie and I found my dad’s stash of condoms in his nightstand and at first we thought it was candy but when we opened one up we realized, of course, it was a balloon. So we blew them up, tied a string around them, and I walked around the block yelling “Balloons for sale; balloons for sale.” You can only imagine the joy my mother felt as a parent to pick up the phone and hear “Do you know that Mary is walking around the neighborhood with rubbers on a string?”
No wonder they invented birth control pills.

Sh*t I Forgot To Give Birth

Extra, Extra Read All About It:

Only 82% of U.S. Women Give Birth

18% of U.S. women now reach the end of their childbearing years without having given birth, up from 10% in the 1970s, according to Pew Research.

You know I don’t think it’s because we didn’t want to give birth, I think we just forgot. You know how forgetful we get as we age. What actually struck me about this article that I received in a daily Harvard Business Review email called “The Daily Stat” is the headline they chose. “ONLY 82%” seems like an odd statement. “ONLY 82%” like the other 18% have fallen down on the job.

I guess me and my empty uterus better go sit in the corner for a reproductive timeout.

Erin Go Braugh

Yes, this is the day when everyone is Irish — like they should be that lucky.

One year I made the mistake of going to a bar on St. Patrick’s Day and everyone kept coming up and rubbing my head for luck. I felt like a troll, and by the end of the night I looked like a troll.
Well I better get out there and let the world bask in my smiling Irish eyes (not to mention my Norwegian nose, my Scottish ears, and don’t get me started on my multicultural boobs).

Back At It

How am I feeling about going back to work? A picture is worth a thousand words.

You know who is going to have a tough time today? Freckles. She hasn’t been in her cozy (that’s what I call her K-E-N-N-E-L because I think it sounds like more fun than a K-E-N-N-E-L) for an entire day for weeks. She is going to have a tough time. I wish I could bring her to work, although I’m not sure if a full day in a C-U-B-I-C-L-E would be any more fun for her.
Well hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s either off to work I go or the Lone Ranger is on the way.

Please Don’t Squeeze The Leftovers

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match … on second thought never mind.

Good morning.  it’s Friday and I’m feeling fine.  But I do have something on my mind.  It’s not my Prince Charming, but it is close — it’s Charmin toilet paper commercials.  FTLOG (for the love of god) what is up with the checking for pieces left behind commercial.  I think most moms are happy if their kids just use toilet paper, in fact they’re happy if the kids just use the toilet.  What ever happened to Mr. Whipple who just got mad if you squeezed the Charmin? I’m trying to picture him running around the supermarket checking customers for leftover pieces. I can hear it now — “Mr. Whipple, Piece check on aisle 7.”  Oh well TGIF.  (By the way, did you know Charmin was originally manufactured in Green Bay.  There are a lot of jokes in that fact alone.)

Neon-derthal Thoughts

On this day Georges Claude patented the neon discharge tube for use in advertising so I decided to glow in celebration.  You got to love Photoshop.


I woke up this morning with a terrible problem — the song “Pants on the Floor” is running through my head until I’m ready to grab a sharp object and go running through the streets.  Why does it seem that I never get a song that I love stuck in my head.  Why not “Moondance” or “Smooth” or “Rufus Rafus Johnson Brown”?  No I get “Pants on the Floor” or something by Abba or the Kit Kat jingle.  I guess it’s the same reason why I tend to remember the mistakes I made rather than the successes.  Strange how our minds work.  Now I have this urge to drop my pants, sing “Dancing Queen” and eat chocolate.  Sounds like a good day to me.

Happy Winnie-the-Pooh Day

Yes this is the official Winnie-the-Pooh Day, also the birthday of A.A. Milne.  I’ve had this bear for a very long, long, long, long, time.  He’s traveled with me to California and back riding in the passenger seat.  He has seen me through a lot of good and bad times.  Three cheers for Pooh … the best bear of all.

It is also Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and I for the first time, I am seeing MLK sales.  I think this either shows that African Americans are now truly part of consumerism America or that the whole meaning of MLK Day has been lost.  I’m use to seeing lingerie sales on Presidents Day, because god knows nothing pays tribute to Washington and Lincoln like a cross-your-heart bra, but I’ve never seen MLK Day sales.  I remember when the first MLK Day was celebrated.  I worked at a law firm that is very politically correct and they were among the first private companies to close on that day … of course they didn’t want to lose a work day for the staff so they just traded MLK Day for Presidents Day. They may be politically correct but damn it they aren’t going to lose money over it!!  My current beloved employer (CBE) doesn’t close on MLK Day or Presidents Day but for some odd reason we get Good Friday off.

Well happy WTP and MLK Day.  Now go buy some lingerie.

Confessions of a UNICEF Thief

Pictures of the devastation in Haiti are overwhelming.  My friend Joni goes to Haiti every year to do volunteer work.  In those years she has developed many friendships in Haiti and has a godson there.  The last time I talked to her she hadn’t heard from her friends, but they are not in Port Au Prince so she assumes they are safe.  (In her email she said they aren’t in “PAP” and my warped mind was wondering why she was comparing Haiti to a Pap Smear — then it dawned on me what it was.  I should be locked up somewhere.)  I encourage you to donate money for relief.  Yesterday I donated to the UNICEF Haiti Relief fund.  I have been a supporter of UNICEF for many years.  I felt I owed it to them since I kept the money I collected in a Trick or Treat for UNICEF box when I was in the 5th grade so I could buy a Yo-Yo.  I believe the statute of limitation has run out on that one.   If you have the ability, please consider donating.  If you do I’ll let you use my Yo-Yo.