Hello Dear Readers! For those of you who just woke up from a coma, congratulations! You’re just in time for Christmas!! Don’t worry if you haven’t got your shopping done yet. I haven’t either and I haven’t even been in a coma. So while I’m out shopping, here’s a little Christmas shopping story about the year my daughter wanted a My Size Barbie!
Big Bucks Barbie
One year my daughter asked Santa for a “My Size Barbie.” A “My Size Barbie” is a Barbie doll that has been fed huge amounts of hormones at the factory causing her to become the size of Daryl Hannah.
To ensure that “My Size Barbie” would be in stock, I went to the toy store early. I approached the Barbie aisle and was about to ask where I might find The Big One, when I tripped over a humongous box containing “My Size Barbie” nearly breaking “My Size Arm.”
The adrenalin rush I experienced from the fall enabled me to heft the package containing The Incredible Babs onto my cart, but not being Arnold Schwartzenegger (or even Maria Shriver), I wasn’t strong enough to maneuver the box so that I could see the price tag.
I inched my Barbie-burdened cart to the checkout stand where it took four of us to hoist The Big Gal onto the scanner, and I mentally noted that perhaps some low-fat Barbie cuisine would make an apropos stocking stuffer.
Being an alert consumer, I had estimated the price at around $40, $50 or maybe even $60.
“Do you know how much this is?” I asked the clerk.
“I’ll let you know in a sec, hon,” she said as she fired up the jaws of life to help her run Buxom Barb over the scanner.
As I waited for the price to appear, I recalled a Christmas of long ago when I had received a Barbie Dream House. My mother had lovingly assembled it all by herself. It had taken her the better part of the Kennedy administration.
Assembles in four years
That had been my favorite Christmas and I owed it all to my mother and to my Barbie. How ironic that this Christmas I would be giving my daughter The Mother of All Barbies.
“Excuse me ma’am? The “My Size Barbie’ is $128. Did you still want it?”
One-hundred and twenty-eight dollars! Suddenly everything began to move in slow motion. I could feel myself turning white . . . then red . . . then green . . . like an aluminum Christmas tree on a rotating stand.
I looked at the clerk, then back at the 20 or so people waiting in line behind me. They were all staring at me and sighing a lot. Maybe they were thinking that I shouldn’t let my daughter down for a few lousy bucks and that I should forget the expense because, after all, it was Christmas. Finally, a gentleman from the back of the line offer his advice:
“Move it lady!”
Then the clerk from the neighboring checkout stand shouted over, ” My niece has one of those and they can wear the same clothes!” And then, just to bring it on home, she added, “I think she comes with an entire wardrobe!”
The clerk and I quickly tried to figure out how many outfits were included, but that information was on the opposite side of the box and somebody else was using the forklift.
In the end, I paid with a check so big it would have made “My Size Barbie” proud. And as the crane lowered The Ultimate Barbie onto the roof of my car, I knew in my heart I had made the right decision.
“A little to the left!”
When Christmas morning came, my little girl would open her very special present, and the wonder and joy that is Christmas would be captured again for one brief, shining moment.
I say brief because the day after Christmas, I made “My Size Barbie” go out and get a job.
Biff Sock Pow over at his blog Biff Sock Pow has added a new challenge for us. Go to his blog and check him out (but only if you like to laugh). It’s called Whatnot Wednesday. The rules are simple (ish). Here they are:
How To Play Whatnot Wednesday
Write a blog post entitled “Whatnot Wednesday” (it can be about anything)
Add these guidelines to the bottom of your post
Add a link to this post in your post
Add the tag #WhatnotWednesday to your post
Post your post
In the comments below in my post, leave a link to your Whatnot Wednesday blog post
See how many bullet points you an end with the word “post”
Most of all …. HAVE FUN!
Today’s Theme: Baby Eating and Whatnot
Welcome Dear Readers! Well it seems the time has finally come to talk about baby eating, a topic that some of you may find a tad offensive. However, for those of you brave enough to continue reading past this point, let’s dig in and talk about baby eating, shall we?
Cue the first slide:
Is it just me, or does this woman look like she’s not really trying very hard to save her baby? I mean, she could just reach over and pry the baby out of the lion’s mouth. Maybe she could even get the lion to open his mouth on his own with a few “here kitty kitty’s.” But no. Instead she looks like she’s about to say, “Wait here while I run home and get the rest of my children. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail and I’ll even bring the lamb for dessert.”
Cue the next slide:
Okay, here’s a mother who will clearly never make mother of the year. She seems far more concerned with the fact that the window washer is squeegeeing the underside of her husband’s calf than with the fact that one of her babies is playing with a fire-breathing dragon while another one is being eaten whole by a farmer on his lunch break.
And don’t you get the feeling that the man at the gate just sold her a case of Big Daddy Magellan’s Medieval Mesquite Baby Seasoning Salt?
And the next slide please:
Okay, here’s a baby eater that can’t even keep up! He’s got babies coming out of his ears! Clearly this baby eater has it all, wings, a full head (and body) of hair and a bellybutton that looks like Mickey Mouse. And even though he’s feasting on a baby, he still has rather kind eyes, don’t you think?
In fact, I have a feeling he’d make a better mother than the other mothers pictured above. Maybe that why people babies are lining up to be eaten by him — probably figuring that since they’re going to be eaten anyway — they might as well be eaten by a kind sort of monster — at least one who has a belly button shaped like Mickey Mouse.
Whoa! Here’s a baby eater that can clearly pack it away (and probably never gain a pound!). He’s got no qualms about chowing down on a baby two-thirds his size. I just hope his eyes don’t prove to be bigger than his stomach and I just hope his stomach is able to handle an entire baby in one bite.
Nobody would eat a baby like this today. The potential for choking is far to great! We can only assume that this man is competing in some sort of Medieval baby-eating contest for which the prize is an all you can eat baby buffet. Let’s just hope he’s got a big supply of Big Daddy Magellan’s Medieval Mesquite Baby Seasoning Salt on hand cause he’s gonna need it!
And that concludes this week’s Wednesday Whatnot post.
When I was a little girl, the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow was a horse.
I really only voiced the question of my getting a horse to my parents a couple of times, knowing full well that the answer would be no, and, as a matter of pride, I’d ultimately have to run away from home or, at the very least, stage a run away as in the following true scenario:
“Look at this Janey,” my father remarked to my mother, “I found Linda’s pajamas in this little 45-record case in the bushes just outside her window when I was mowing the lawn.”
Oh I was going to run away alright . . . eventually.
Ok, fine . . . if I wasn’t going to get a horse, at least I could try for a kitten. This is how I went about it. Step 1: Convince my parents that I was head over heals in love with cats. So I colored umpteen pictures of kittens and scotch taped them to my circa 1959 pink wall. Step 2 wasn’t even needed because Step 1 worked like a charm. Next thing I knew I was picking out my very own gray, long-haired kitten from a batch of 5 or 6.
In my excitement, I failed to notice that this particular kitten had issues. It suffered from the world’s lowest kitty IQ. Maybe that’s why the name I chose, Taffy May, seemed to fit her so well.
Taffy May was the perfect cat for a little girl to bond with. Being nearly brain-dead, she allowed me to pick her up and carry her around without protest. She slept with me all night under the covers which I thought was because she loved me so — but more likely she just couldn’t figure a way out.
I loved stupid little Taffy May with all the passion of my nine-year-old heart and soul. She failed to grow to full size due to the fact that while she was checking to see if there were any predators around to eat her cat food, the dog would wolf it down.
She had one batch of kittens – if three can be considered a batch. But being the little dummy that she was, she managed to lie on all three of them during the night and in the morning the only one left breathing was my beloved, Taffy May.
Perhaps it was Karma (I know there was a car involved) the day Taffy May shuffled (or rolled) off this mortal world. I was on my way home from school without a care in the world. When I rounded the corner, there stood our across-the-street neighbor, Mr. Huey, holding a lifeless Taffy May up by the tail.
I don’t know how many times Taffy May had been run over, but judging from the fact that she was literally as flat as a pancake, it would be safe to assume more than once. I screamed and ran into the house where I was inconsolable well into the night. I never got another cat of my very own, out of respect for Taffy May, who will always have a place in my heart . . . about two feet wide and one and one-half inches deep.
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of the Bible According to Gregory. Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday school this morning, shall we?
Fred and The Bears
As you may remember from last week’s bible lesson, Gregory was learning about Elisha (pronounced Fred).
Fred had just inherited the All in One Miracle Cloak from his idol, Elijah, who thew it to him from the whirlwind God had sent for Elijah to take him up to heaven.
The cloak did wonders for Fred’s self-esteem. It gave him the power to perform miracles, it brought out the hazel in his eyes, and it even dimmed the shine of his very bald head!
But the men of Jericho thought Fred’s story about Elijah being whisked off up to heaven in a whirlwind was a bit sketchy.
Jericho Man: Hi Fred. nice cloak. Say, have you seen Elijah anywhere?
Fred: Uh, Elijah . . . uh . . . well, he’s on a permanent vacation.
Jericho Man: Oh how nice! Where?
Jericho Man: You mean he died?
Fred: Not exactly. The Lord picked him up in a Whirlwind and took him to heaven while he was still alive.
Jericho Man: I’m sorry, but I have trouble believing that because the Lord doesn’t travel in a whirlwind, he travels in a cloud.
Fred: Are you implying I don’t know the difference between a cloud and a whirlwind?
Jericho Man: Okay I’m bored. Hey listen, Fred, since you’re the new miracle guy in town, would you mind doing something about the source of our drinking water. It tastes like Shiite.
Fred: Not a problem, I can fix that. Bring me a new jar and put salt in it.
Jericho man: But won’t that just mask the flavor?
Fred raised his I’m-the-new-miracle-guy-in-town-aren’t-I? eyebrow and the man ran off to fetch Fred a jar of salt.
Fred threw the salt into the Shiite water and everybody watched while he took a sip and pronounced that the water tasted as good as Alhambra. And everybody rejoiced by laughing at the way Fred pronounced Abraham.
Fred takes being called “baldy” badly.
After that Fred left Jericho to travel to Bethel as he had some early blankmas shopping he wanted to do. (This was way before Jesus was born.)
On the way there, he encountered a group of boys who started making fun of Fred’s bald head.
“Get out of here baldy!” they all shouted.
Which was the very worst thing you could call a person in biblical days not counting Unleavened- Pizza- Crust – Face.
So Fred cursed the boys in the name of the Lord and two she-bears came out of the woods and tore the 42 boys to pieces which must have taken a while — long enough for Fred to get out his slab and chisel and chisel 42 hash marks.
After that, Fred traveled on to Mount Carmel, where he bought everybody on his list a box of carmels.
He came back by way of Samaria and gifted an extra box he accidentally bought to a Samaritan who lived there and wished him Merry Blankmas!
And that’s why to this day, if someone buys an extra box of carmels and gives it to someone who lives in Sameria, they are called a Good Samaritan.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School. Be sure to check back next week to see what new and exciting thing Gregory learns in Sunday School.
Hello Dear Readers! Gosh it’s a beautiful day. Okay let’s talk about death now.
Here’s something that came in the mail today from the Trident Society:
Apparently the Trident Society isn’t really a Society at all. It’s just a nice way of saying we’re a company that turns a profit cremating dead people. I don’t think there’s regular meetings or anything. It’s simply that they are asking for dibs on cremating you after you die, but they want you to pay them for it right now.
Apparently there are lots and lots and lots of wonderful reasons why you need to pre-purchase your funeral pyre. Let’s take a closer look at what they are, shall we?
The first reason for being cremated is convenience.
If you pay for your cremation now, perhaps when you die, one of your family members (whoever gets the shortest straw) can simply go to a Trident Society drive-thru window, pick up your ashes and set you on the book shelf until the next family reunion — where you will be lovingly lugged along and incorporated into the prayer before the potluck lunch is served. Upside: It’s convenient as all get out. Downside: Alive or dead, you’ll have to attend the next family reunion.
Cremation is much less expensive and has less impact on the environment!
Now how can anybody say no to cheap and easy? It’s cheap AND it’s better for the environment. Downside: You had to pay for it yourself. Upside: Hey!! Lookee you! You’re recyclable!
It allows families to provide a dignified resting place to memorialize their loved one.
What is the Trident Society trying to imply? Are they trying to imply that your current plan — to give great, great grandaddy, Trevor, the ol’ heave ho on your next Carnival Cruise — isn’t a dignified enough resting place? Upside: Oh yeah! Downside: Just watch you!
And finally, Dear Readers, if the above reasons aren’t enough to convince you that you need to pre-purchase your cremation, Trident Society is pulling out all the stops by allowing you to enter for a chance to WIN a FREE CREMATION!
Sufferin’ Succotash! Look how happy everybody is in the picture! Well, there’s nothing like winning a FREE CREMATION to make everyone want to play a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosy!