Tag Archives: Whatever Wednesday

Whatever Wednesday: Wrong Number

Note: The following is based on a true event but details are grossly exaggerated. Maybe. Sorta. I plead the fifth. Mum’s the word and all that. Oh, and if you’re drinking or eating anything? Swallow it first and don’t take another bite or sip until you’re done reading. You’re welcome.

I just sat down at the desk to check Facebook for a few minutes when my cell phone started to ring. I looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. So, I did what any sane person does when an unrecognizable number calls you. I flipped it to silent and Googled the number.

I expected it to be some unknown land line. You see, I don’t give out my real cell number to anyone these days, I use my Google Voice number. So when a number from the area of my real cell number calls, I figure it’s probably a wrong number so I don’t answer.

Google’s results shocked me.

The number belonged to an adult lingerie/fantasy store.

Um, ‘scuse me?

I use Ama, er, um, uh… yeah. I’ve digressed enough. Anyway.

It gets better, yes it does.

I PM’d a friend on FB about the call, through tears of laughter.

“So… a lingerie store just called me….this has the potential to be hilarious.”

“What’d they want?”

“They left a voice mail… listening now…”

“It’s a message for Mary. Her item has arrived and is on hold. Oh, I want to call back and pretend to be Mary.”

“Poor Mary isn’t going to get her fantasy lingerie.”

“What if it’s not lingerie?”

“Maybe you don’t want to know what Mary’s into?”

“Yeah…maybe I should call them back and tell them I’m not Mary.”

“Hahaha.. Yes, before they reveal something indelicate!”

And so I did the good Samaritan thing, against my meddling blogger’s instinct’s gut reaction. I called the lingerie store to let them know they’d just left a message for Mary on my voice mail, that I wasn’t Mary after an initial resurgence of wanting to claim to be Mary.

Apparently, Mary gave them my number (or they transposed the numbers) when she placed her order for her item. Is her item lube? Cootchie cream? Whips? Deep Throat numbing spray? Cherry Anal Lube? Adult, um, toys? Lingerie? The suspense is KILLING ME, people! (All of the aforementioned are indeed items they sell through their online store – I am not making up the Cootchie cream or the cherry lube, y’all. Swearsies.)

The store owner/employee sounded horribly embarrassed, even uttering an “Oh myyyyy” which would have made George Takei blush, making me even MORE curious about Mary’s item.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries, we hung up. After some consideration, I think I need to call them back tomorrow to, you know, follow up and make sure that Mary hasn’t also used one of my accounts to pay for her, ahem, item. I don’t think she has, but this is just odd.

So, Mary?

Wherever you are, your item is waiting for you. It’s all alone. It’s yearning to be in your hands, against your skin, with you. It’s miserable without your warmth beside it or, ahem, around it. The spice in your love life will have to remain at the requisite level until you get your phone number right. No fifty shades of grey shenanigans for you tonight, sweetheart.

I hope you call to check on your poor lonely item soon…perhaps you will hear it calling for you, moaning all alone in the darkness in the store where they hold all the items people forgot to pick up.

Don’t leave your item in the lost and found, Mary. Just don’t. Be nice to your item, Mary, and it will be nice to you.

Go get ’em, Mary. Rock it.

Whatever Wednesday: Doughnuts at the Carwash

Do you remember when you were a kid? The littlest things made us happy, didn’t they? Like those machines that you put quarters in and get tiny toys that break the instant oxygen hits them? They were fabulous for all of 1.5 seconds, right? Or how about sitting in your room, building things out of Legos or playing with Play-doh? It did not take much to put a smile on our faces. Ahhh, those were the days.

Flash forward to adulthood. Get up at the break of down to drink did coffee, run around like crazy to get ready for work and/or get the kids ready for school and/or both, ultimately forget something, have to go back for it, drop the kids off, go to work, or run errands, then finally get home at the end of the day, dinner, maybe a little time to yourself, and then bam. Bedtime. How the hell bedtime get here so fast? Close your eyes after setting your alarm so you can do it all again the next day.

Did you take any time for joy? Any little things tucked into your day that made you smile and giggle as if you were a 5 year old who just got the toy you wanted out of the quarter machine? No? Well, that’s a damn shame.

The key, as a lot of people will tell you, to staying happy, is to maintain a stranglehold on that childhood innocence and wonder. Pick up just enough common sense and cynicism to function in the grown up world but dear GOD don’t let that childhood innocence and wonder dissipate. Do stupid stuff. Let go. Have fun. Laugh inappropriately and loudly at everything, anything, and nothing at all. Do things that make you smile, often, with people you love.

Stuff like I do with J.

Stuff like what we did tonight at the car wash.

We ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things to finish off dinner. Then, we spotted the doughnuts. Lately we had denied ourselves this guilty pleasure but tonight they were salacious sirens nestled in a forest of sweet treats, begging to be rescued. We reluctantly (okay, not so reluctantly) rescued six of them, planning to take them home and hug them ever so gently with our stomachs after sending them for a ride down the esophagus flume.

After the grocery store, we checked to see if the car wash was open. The past week and a half has covered the car in salt, snow, and other random ick but because of the frigid temperatures, we have been unable to wash it because well, the water would just freeze instantly.

The car wash was open, so we turned in after a horde of cars passed by. Two lanes were open, and we, we chose the one with the idiot. His driver side door was open, his feet on the ground, a cigarette hanging from his lower lip as if it were a man clinging to a cliff waiting for a stiff breeze to come along. He wore a hat, a fedora style hat, and glasses. He slid his card into the slot, tapped the screen, and stared curiously at the screen. One of the employees came over to help him, sliding his card in for him. As we idled behind him, we watched the vehicle in the other lane surge forward.

I evaluated the situation after we sat there for a couple more minutes, put the car in reverse, and headed for the other lane. We pulled up, I activated the screen, made my choices, paid, and moved forward as the winner in the other lane sat there, continuing to struggle with the machine.

An employee directed us onto the auto-fed car wash. As I popped the car into neutral, J grabbed the doughnuts.

“Which one you want? The cruller?”

doughnut in carwash“Sure! Just a minute.” I put my wallet away, then took the doughnut. I squealed like a little kid. Doughnuts. In the car wash. I took out my phone and snapped a pic. There was just something so gleefully delicious about eating a sweet donut whilst hidden in the soapy flaps and rollers of the car wash. It felt so wrong yet so damn good. Best damn cruller ever.

Joy in life is found in the simplest of things, the things we forget how to see when we get past a certain age. Just like Journey advises… don’t stop believing.

And now? I’m gonna have a doughnut at 10pm at night.

Because joy.

Whatever Wednesday: Too Cold for Wine n’ Jesus

Due to the extreme cold our area experienced yesterday, a real event called Wine n’ Jesus was cancelled last night. This is a very fictional conversation based on the decision to cancel the Wine n’ Jesus event. Enjoy.










ROGER? Is that you?


(clearing throat)

Hullo, MARTHA.


ROGER, I am worried about the meeting tonight. It is entirely too cold out there.


Too cold out there for Wine n’ Jesus? 


Yes, ROGER. Entirely too cold. There is a time and a place for Jesus but we shouldn’t expect people to freeze to death and meet their maker earlier than they are meant to, now should we?


For heaven’s sake, MARTHA, it is just a bit of cold. The church has a heater. The power is not out, the roads are not icy, and vehicles have heaters in them. Explain to me why we are cancelling our Wine n’ Jesus. I have the wine already chosen and ready to go. Also, I thought tonight was going to be the Bible Jeopardy night. You know how much fun Bible Jeopardy is once we have all had a bit of wine.


Yes, yes, I know. But ROGER…sometimes, we have to put safety before Jesus, and particularly before wine. I love wine just as you do, ROGER, but tonight it seems we need to put it aside. It is what He would want us to do.


You’re not thinking clearly, MARTHA. There is no danger aside from the frigid cold. Which, from what I understand, you should be quite adept at surviving.


(inhales sharply)

What on EARTH is that supposed to mean, ROGER?


Oh you know exactly what I mean, MARTHA.


No, I am afraid I don’t, ROGER.

(she crosses her legs and adapts a defensive seated position)


Oh, I’ve talked with Frank. I KNOW how frigid you are, Martha. I know.



I am not going to dignify that with a response, ROGER. How dare you bring that up in this conversation. Wine n’ Jesus is cancelled. Do you hear me, ROGER? (yelling loudly now) CANCELLED!!!!





She hangs up the phone and appears to mumble furiously to herself as she dials the number for the local news station to get the information for the cancellation submitted, pressing the phone to her ear once she is done dialing. 


Hello? Is this where I submit information for cancellations?


Yes, it is. Name of the event?


Wine n’ Jesus.


Wine and Cheeses?


(exasperated sigh)

No. Wine n’ Jesus. As in Jesus our Lord, not cheeses as in Brie, Gruyere, and Colby Jack. JESUS. As in the Son of God.


Oooohhhh. Yes. As in Jesus turned the water into wine.


Well, if that is how your simple mind wants to remember it, yes.


Excuse me, ma’am?

MARTHA (mumbling)

Oh, nothing. The Wine n’ Jesus event is tonight at 6pm. It is cancelled because of the cold.


Because of the cold?


Yes, that’s right. What is so difficult to believe about this? It is dangerously cold out there!


Yes ma’am but it is actually warmer tonight than it was this morni…


Don’t you get all high and mighty on me too, missy. It’s cancelled due to cold. Now put it up on your website so the people know it is too cold for the Wine n’ Jesus tonight, please.


Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else I can do for you? Pray, refer you to a therapist, give you some wine?


Well, I never… (sighs loudly and pushes the END CALL button)

Martha sinks back into her floral chair, a frustrated look on her face. She slams the phone down, sips her tea. It is now cold.

Whatever Wednesday: When a Fur is Really a Fir and No One Cares

I traveled this past week down to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving.

On Friday we ventured out to the local grocery store which was safe to do because my parents live out in a very rural area.

Of course the store had Christmas trees for sale out front because what else do you put on sale the day after Thanksgiving?

A fabulous green sign proclaimed the prices of these trees on the store’s front entryway door.

Fur TreesSee?

The “Large Fur” was only $29.99. The “Small Fur” was a steal at just $19.99.

After reading the sign again, I glanced at the trees. They were not fuzzy or furry. There were no furs on sale.

Upon entering the store, I went straight to the first employee I saw which happened to be the woman in the floral section. It made total sense to talk with her about this because well, she deals with the plants, right?

“Hi. So, I had a question about the sign outside about the trees for sale. Who can I talk to about it?”

“I’ll answer what I can…”

“Great! The word “fur” is misspelled. I’m sure it’s an honest mistake but the word for trees is spelled f-i-r, not f-u-r as your sign currently states.”

“Ummm….” She then gave me a blank stare. “Right. The large trees are $29.99 and the small ones are…”

I interrupted her, giggling because clearly she misunderstood me. “No, no, no. I don’t want a tree. I want the sign fixed because it’s misleading. Is there a manager I can talk to about that?”

“Well, the girl who did it… (insert puzzled look)… we’ll be taking them down later today anyway….”

“Great. Because those trees are not f-u-rs, they are f-i-rs.”

The kicker?

The above photo was taken the FOLLOWING AFTERNOON.



Whatever Wednesday: Censored Funny

One of George Carlin’s funnies routines for me is when he goes through a list of “bad words.”

Words which aren’t welcome in “polite” conversation.

I love him for it.


Because we shouldn’t have to censor what we say or write.

To censor what we write, what we say, what we think is the very essence of giving up ourselves. Sure, there’s a moral argument against bringing up certain topics in certain circles. But are we pressured more by others around us or by ourselves? Where’s the line? Should we cross the line? Where’s the grey area?

What if we offend someone? *gasp*

What if we cause a parent to have to explain something to their child they aren’t prepared to explain?

What if…

I mean, really?

(I’m listening to George Carlin read the list right now, for the record.)

When does Politically Correct cross the line into limiting freedom of speech?

Shouldn’t there be a certain expectation in certain situations of crude/crass speech?

It’s why we now have ratings. Why music is labeled as “Explicit” and why movies are rated anywhere from “G” to “NC-17” or “X.”

The problem with ratings is that it creates a society in which we don’t think about examining things closely for ourselves because someone has already done it for us.

Ratings are a suggestion, people. A guide. Not a decisive statement that it’s okay for your kid to watch, listen, or play simply because some panel somewhere decided it deserved whatever rating your kid is allowed to view, hear, or play. What if they don’t hold your values? What if they think it’s okay for your kid to hear crass languague or see something crude?

Point here is that funny is funny in YOUR context, not in someone else’s context. I’m tired of censoring myself for fear of what someone else may think or say as a result of what I’ve said. It’s me. If you don’t like it, the rest of the Interwebz is at your fingertips. All it takes is a click to veer away from my words or from whatever else it is that you have found offensive.

At the same time, we have the same right as the person saying these things to speak up and say we don’t like what they’re saying. But by no means should we expect them to take back what they’ve said just because we *gasp* don’t like it. Guess what? The world is full of things we don’t like.


Wanna know how to deal with that?

Ignore it. Don’t let it into your life.

Fill your life with the beautiful, with the true, with the honest, with the FUNNY, with the hope, the compassion, the love YOU want there.

If you find yourself always focusing on the negative, take a good hard look at yourself and how YOU are living your life and what YOU are letting into it.

We live in an age during which we are very much in control of what comes into our lives.

Don’t hesitate to use that control to create a bubble. Yeah, sometimes? That bubble’s gonna pop. Sometimes? It’s okay to get angry.

But really… most of the time, anger is a wasted emotion and life is so much better when you’re happy and lost in bliss, even if that means ignorance in some areas.

Whatever Wednesday: My fabulous new anti-oxidant diet

Pssst. Have you heard? There’s a new diet in town and MAN is it sexay!

One part yellow kernel to one part cocoa bean.


I cain’t wait to get this one going!

"Caramel Popcorn drizzled with chocolate" by EdwardKimkuk @flickr. Original photo sourced here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/woodwood/4835402465/

I’m gonna eat Chocolate Popcorn for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. I may even adopt the Hobbit habit of Second Breakfast. And Elevensees.

Hell. Tea Time? All over it. Screw cucumber sandwiches. Gimme a giant ball of popcorn slathered in rich dark chocolate please.

Or if I want to be more ladylike, two pieces of popcorn with an M&M smooshed in between them. It’s practically a Ménage à trois of health!


I’ll be healthy and svelte in no time, right? Right?

I wonder if I can scrounge up a prescription for Ambien. You know, for mindless trips to the kitchen in the middle of the night. Or wait, is that Lunesta? I can’t remember. I’m too busy day dreaming about a pool full of puffy popcorn coated in a lusty sheen of chocolate. Mmmmmm.

Paula Deen’s got nothing on this new diet. Butter Schmutter, y’all.

Chocolate makes you thinner.

Popcorn is packed with anti-oxidants. Just like chocolate. Which, you know, makes you thinner.

It’s a win-win situation, right?

Especially for Oral-B. Because you know, kernels.

Whatever Wednesday: When you ask Craigslist to solve writer’s block

The next time I struggle with writer’s block, this is the approach I’m taking. Not for serious value but for beyond hilarious comedic value.

So far, responses have ranged from serious to well, not so serious. Generally those who have responded seem to genuinely want to help me. Not all in the way I asked, but still. They want to help. Which is sweet. Sort of. Unless they’re wanting to exchange pictures and be more than friends. Then it’s disturbing because it makes me wonder if they are even capable of reading English. Or thinking of anything north of their equator if you know what I mean.

Pasted below are actual initial responses (in no particular order) to the writer’s block ad I posted. Also, in all fairness, I made it CLEAR I was a blogger in search of a topic. Everything was fair play.

No, I’m not telling you what or where I posted it nor am I linking to it. Enjoy.

Happy Wednesday.

1) seriously, if it is so hard to find something to write about then perhaps you shouldn’t write anything. i blogged for years and have only posted when i felt compelled to write. if you have a deadline then that’s a different issue. it really depends on what you NEED to write. (honestly the most awesome advice of the evening. SO very true.) 

2) Well, what in the world is your blog about?  You didn’t mention any topic!  Politics? Religion? Fitness? Babies? Sex? Speaking of sex, here’s one for you from my personal life (which I probably shouldn’t be sharing):  is it common for married women to stop having sex with their husbands?

 Ok, so I gave you some type of topic to write about. (Yes, yes you have. But whoa. When you email people from Craigslist, you never know where your email will end up. Perhaps you shouldn’t email people on Craigslist to begin with, buddy. Just a thought.)


3) I could probably help or at least attempt to depending on the subject matter. I usually have spare ideas I’m not using for anything in particular

and I can be pretty decent when it comes to finding information on Google
but if that’s no help I can still be useful as a repository for obscure trivia.
like did you know attempting to sing “Be Prepared” in the lion king Jeremy Irons “threw out” his voice on the line “You wont get a sniff without me!”
and fellow cast member Jim Cummings had to fill in for him the rest of the song. (this one ended up telling me about a George Washington Shaped Chicken Nugget which sold for 8k on e-bay. When he said repository for obscure trivia? He wasn’t kidding.) 


4) So, what do you write about generally? (I’m not even going to bore you with where this went) 


5) You know, I was all gung-ho about helping you get to new ideas …

Until you mentioned psychoanalzying The Biebs and getting deep into one of his songs.
Then I realized that you already had enough genius for both of us.
But if you’d like someone to talk to while getting into that adorable boy’s mind, then I’d glady offer my services. As long as you understand why I’d go worked up over it .. I mean, come on … that hair. (this one led to a really awesome full on conversation about the Biebs, Elvis Presley, the Stones, The Beatles, confused HS kids, Shakira, and a whole bunch of other stuff. He’s awesome. Even more awesome than the Bieb’s hair.) 
6) I doubt this will even reach you because I’m sure the second you posted that ad on Craigslist, your email inbox was swarmed by dozens of guys who are a dime a dozen. I’m not one of those guys. I’m 33, HWP, South American and very down to earth. Love to cook, soccer, the outdooors. I am fun, sarcastic, caring, friendly, athletic, well-educated & mannered. I reside in the (redacted)area. Love to try new things, places, food, in this case friendships.If you read this and are interested AND you’re not a spambot, pls reply and we can go from there and exchange pics. (Umm.. okay, but Dude? I was asking for help with writing. In the Strictly Platonic section. I am NOT looking for a sexy latin ma.. oh.. wait.. HI. Just kidding. I deleted his email without responding after I copied the text here.) 

7) maybe you could write about those homeless hotspots put on by sxsw…or even how commercial sxsw has become… (legitimate ideas, granted, and something I’d noticed via Twitter this past week. But not light enough for my Wednesday post. Thanks for playing.) 

8 ) What exactly are you stuck on? (Bubble gum. Super glue. Batman? Harvey Dent….Can we trust him? Wonder-woman? That funny purple blob otherwise known as Barney? Taffy? Toe jam? Rubber Cement? Elmer’s Glue? That strange sticky stuff on the school bus seat?) 

9) Well I;ve got brain tsunamis LOL I am crative, but run into the same problem sometimes. But I like the idea of being helpful. (Oh the cringe-worthiness of this one. Explain to me what “crative” is, please. Anyone? Bueller? Also, I don’t think we’re suffering from the same thing here. I know how to spell and use proper grammar.) 

10) Yes, I would like to help you, do you use yahoo instant messenger or gchat? (maybe. but i’m already writing, also, why does your email address name show up as “tom green” when you’ve signed your name as something completely different? Be funny on your own without invoking the name of someone professionally hilarious.) 

Whatever Wednesday: Lost in a soothing chimera

My mind is quiet today.

It shouldn’t be, there is a lot going on up there.

But as I wander through the aisles, it’s as if everything on the shelves suddenly disappears just as I reach for it to place it in my cart. My hand passes through empty space instead of jars filled with thoughts and feelings. Every aisle is the same. Full as I start my trip down each new row, list in my hand, I arrive at the desired item only to have it vanish as soon as I reach out.

Finally, I abandon my cart and leave it to dissipate along with my thoughts, finally understanding there’s no point to continuing this exercise in futility. I exit the store and enter a field covered in poppies, a babbling brook coursing through the middle of the stimulating red flowers and soothing green blades of sweet grass. Butterflies flit to and fro, bumblebees hum as they gorge themselves upon sweet pollen.

My mind is empty today.

Busy, but empty.

A contradiction in action.

For now, I’m drifting in the silence, listening to soft murmuring thoughts, and contemplating the meanings behind their syllabic cadence. I’m letting the poppies grow across my body and losing myself in their aromatic fragrance carried across me by a gentle breeze. Giving myself permission to just be in the midst of the melange of introspection, losing myself in a soothing chimera.

How are you spending today?

Whatever Wednesday: Like a Vulcan

I made it through the wilderness
Somehow I made it through
I didn’t know how lost I was
Until I melded with you

I was beat incomplete
I’d been had, I was cold and blue
But you made me steel
Yeah, you made me steel.
Shiny and new

Like a vulcan
Purged for the very first time
Like a vulcan
When your logic rests
Next to mine

Gonna give you all my mind, boy
My emotion is fading fast
Been keeping it all from you
‘Cause only logic can last

You’re so devoid and you’re mine
Make me heartless, yeah you make me cold
Oh your logic thawed out
Yeah, your logic thawed out
What was getting cold

Like a vulcan (hey)
Purged for the very first time (yeah yeah)
Like a vulcan
When your logic rests
Next to mine

Oooh (whoah)
oooh, (whoah whoah)
oooh (yah yeah yeah)
(whoah whoah)

You’re so devoid and you’re mine
I’ll be yours ’till the end of time
‘Cause you made me steel
Yeah, you made me steel..
I’ve nothing to feel

Like a vulcan , hey
(you make me feel like a vulcan)
Purged for the very first time
(Ohhh baby)
Like a vulcan
When your logic rests
Next to mine

Like a vulcan, ooh, ooh
Like a vulcan (yeahh)
Feels so empty inside
When you purge me (when you purge me)
When your logic rests (when your logic rests)
When you neglect me (when you neglect me baby)

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh (yeah)
Ooh, baby
Like a vulcan


(the inspiration for the above rewrite of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” came about after a brief discussion with my mother about how to politely tell someone you didn’t want to discuss emotions – by telling them you wanted to be “Like a Vulcan.”)

Whatever Wednesday: Learning to breathe

When we’re born, everyone waits for our first scream. Ironically, it’s the only scream for which most parents are grateful. The rest of them are more like nails on a chalkboard. A siren in the middle of the night, a replacement for the alarm clock, a signal which demands immediate attention.

But that first scream – it’s when we first prove our worth, our life, the functioning of our lungs. Every breath after that is involuntary. Heck, even that first one is but it’s translated as on purpose by those surrounding us on our original birthday.

So, why then, would we need to learn to breathe again if it’s something our body just does?

Stress. Anxiety. Fear. Trauma. Happiness. Joy. Surprise.  Life. Things which temporarily steal our breath. Moments during which our intake lasts longer and we must consciously remind our lungs to exhale and inhale. You know them – moments in which everything around you stops, slows down, swirls about you as if you’re stuck mercilessly in some sort of vortex.

For many, those moments are few and far between. For many, it may not happen at all. But for those of us who know these moments all too well whether they be for good or bad, learning how to breathe again can be an exhausting task. We learn how to breathe deeply in the face of adversity. To take in the air in front of us slowly and exhale it slowly. To take poisoned angry air and exhale it with joy. It’s not about literally breathing. It’s about forcing ourselves to continue to move forward with our lives even when all we really want to do is inhale and never exhale again because that next breath? Will be the hardest damn inhale we’ve ever had to take in our entire lives. Shattered, broken, crumpled, exhausted, breathing is last on our list of things to do. We flail, shudder, convulse, everything but gasp for air. Gasp for survival. We run away from it. The pain awaiting us with that next breath overwhelms us and we run. Even though we KNOW it’s not what we should do – that we should run headlong into that fear, toward it like a linebacker toward a quarterback about to throw a game winning touchdown. Tackling that quarterback is going to hurt like hell. But it will feel good. That quarterback? Is fear. Is anxiety. Is stress. Is trauma. We can’t let it win the game. Ever.

Run toward the quarterback. Knock him flat on his back. Scream at him the whole way. Fight for it. Don’t let him win the game. Because you? You know how to breathe. You’re worth it. And you? Have got this game in the bag.