13 January 2007

Customer Service

Our waitress last night:

Customer: Out of #7, 8, or 9, which would you recommend?

Waitress: #7

Customer: #7 is best, then?

Waitress: Well, I don't know about the food, but 7 is my favorite number.

12 January 2007


Argh what is up with Bloglines??? Everything I have read is marked as unread so I go back and look at it again and think "Am I losing my mind? Because it seems like I read this already!" (It is my usual modus operandi to first assume I am losing my mind).

The worst one is a blogger who had a very rough patch a few months back. Her most heart-wrenching post from that time keeps popping up in the feed window, so I keep thinking "Oh no, not again!!" but it is the same post over and over and over.

I think I live in Groundhog Day.

*Da Ali G Show

California gripped by fear and panic

Hold on to your hats! Temperatures are supposed to get down into the high 20's tonight! It is all they can talk about on the news.

We may have to sleep with OUR WINDOWS CLOSED! This is serious, people. But weep not for us - we shall pull through somehow.

Today is Special

Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David. Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti.

Despierta mi bien despierta, mira que ya amaneció. Ya los pajaritos cantan. La luna ya se metió

Que linda está la mañana en que vengo a saludarte. Venimos todos con gusto y placer a felicitarte.

Ya viene amaneciendo. Ya la luz del día nos dio. Levántate de mañana. Mira que ya amaneció.

Happy Birthday, amiga!

Explanation: this is the traditional Mexican birthday song. It is sung to the birthday honoree to awaken them, and the lyrics translate:

These are the little mornings (psalms) that were sung by King David, today for being day of your saint we sing them to you. Wake up my love, wake up, look that sunrise has come, already the litttle birds sing, the moon already has set. How pretty is the morning that I come on to greet you. We come all with gladness and pleasure to congratulate you. Already comes the sunrise already the light of day has touched us. Get up this morning, and see that sunrise has come.

10 January 2007

God is dog

My dog makes me believe in God. She is such a wondrous creature, so beautiful, so perfect and so full of love. When I see her, I know God exists - like the song says "I know God's real for I can feel him in my soul."

What makes you know God is real? Don't say your kids - I KNOW THAT. Obvious. What else?

Ps It is National De-Lurking Week. Don't make me beg. One comment is all I ask. Is that begging? Ok, it is. But still, comment and make me happy.

I got nothin'

But you can watch Elmo TMX die a fiery and horrible death over at Linkateria. Hey, I'm just providing a public service here.

ALSO - I'm eagerly awaiting more True Employee Confessions of annoying jobs, co-workers or working conditions, past or present. You can even give kudos to a job you liked. Just email them to snackishblogATyahoo.com

08 January 2007


This is perfect. Just when my mind was perfectly post-free, the ROFL Awards saves the day. For today is the day I reveal my nominee to the world.

I read a lot of blogs. Too many. They just kind of creep up on me. It is so easy for me to add a blog to my bloglines and so hard for me to delete, even when they are blogs whose posts I only read when no one else has posted and I am so desperate for a blog fix. (Pathetic, I know).

Most blogs take a while to grow on me. I have to get to know the style and cast of characters. The much-beloved Amalah was like that. At first I didn't get what the fuss was all about, but eventually something snapped into place and now she is one of the first blogs I read (it also helps that she falls early in the alphabet).

But every once in a while, someone's blog is so great that I don't want them to be a blogger. I want them to be my friend. I don't want them to exist only in cyberspace. I want to go sit on their couch and drink cocoa with mini marshmallows on top while we talk about how weird the neighbors are.

Ree from Confessions of a Pioneer Woman writes a blog like that. I hate it for being a blog. I wish it was real life. Not only is she a hilarious, great writer, but she lives an interesting life out in the country (she's not kidding about the "one calf nut at a time" part) and peppers her posts with beautiful photos.

In December, one of her posts sent me over the edge. Her post and photos about Tanner, the poop-eating Barbie Dog, was laugh-til-you-puke-a-little funny. The text was great. The photos were...illustrative. Combined? Too good. And they are especially great juxtaposed with the next post down, which is a recipe for homemade cinnamon buns. Poop and food - all in a day's work for a Pioneer Woman.

The whole list of nominees can be seen at Mommy Off the Record" and Izzy Mom. Thanks, Cristina and Izzy for hosting. You are both beautiful, smart and funny. Good night!

07 January 2007

What, no candles?

Let it never be said that Mr Stapler and I don't know how to party. For his birthday, I got up before he fully awoke. I left to go to church, forgetting to eat breakfast, so my stomach rumbled like a freight train all the way through the service. Nice.

Much later in the day, we met up so that he could bring me the computer charger that I had left at his house. We decided to go to Kmart. Because there is nothing that says birthday merriment like a Sunday afternoon spent strolling the completely-trashed aisles of Kmart.

Not only was it Kmart, but it was the very Kmart that I had worked at as a cashier when I was 19. I was regaling Mr Stapler with this fascinating history when we got to the checkout line, where two heavily-mascara'ed girls, both about the age I had been when I slaved there, were working.

Mr Stapler and I might as well not have existed, because the girls ignored us and kept talking as they scanned our items (a lovely 4-tier wire rack in chrome for Mr S; five Hawaiian print dish towels for me. Both Martha Stewart brand).

"Well, it's funny because I used to be so tiny," said Blondie to her friend. "I was like a size 00 or less than a 00. But now I am like a one or a three. What size pants do YOU wear?" she asked the other girl.

"Oh, man, it's so bad. Like a 7 or 9," said the second girl, a Latina.

"That's because you have a huge butt," said Blondie.

I gaped. "She did NOT just say that," I said.

"Uhhhh, thanks," said the Latina sarcastically.

"I mean, it's ok, white girls don't have any butts, you know, but I wish I did have a booty like you," Blondie babbled.

"I beg your pardon," I said, turning around. "Here is your evidence. If there is a big butt competition, I believe I would be the winner."

That shocked and shut them up for a second. Yes, the old lady does indeed have a colossal ass.

"I want to let it be known that, though I worked at this very Kmart, I never once told someone they had a big butt," I proclaimed.

"It's okay, she's my friend," said Blondie.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," I warned. "I'd keep an eye on my Coke from now on because you never know when you might find a dead bug floating in it."

Because you KNOW I would.

"You're blogging about this?" said Mr Stapler.

"How can I not?" I asked.

He took me back to my car and we parted ways, having celebrated a mid-40s birthday about as well as one expects.

(Note: we did have a very nice evening together last night. Complete with our favorite restaurant owner singing in Italian and tiny cups of chocolate liqueur. Not bad.)
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