We asked for photos of your favorite pens, and we even got a few replies. Here they are:
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
We asked for photos of your favorite pens, and we even got a few replies. Here they are:
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
My dog Roscoe tries so hard to be a good dog. He knows two tricks: sit and heel. On days when we don’t take a walk, I sometimes let him out of the yard to play. He has a routine. I open his gate, he runs directly to the back door, whines and scratches at the door, and when he sits quietly, I let him in. He drinks some of the cat’s water, trots to the front door, sits, and then I let him out. I’m not sure why he thinks he has to come through the house to get to the front yard, but that’s what he does.
Usually, the first thing he does once he achieves freedom is find a place to make his mark. That is sometimes my across-the-street neighbor’s tree. I know it’s a little tacky, but he’s a dog. That’s what dogs do. Once when he did this, my neighbor happened to be at the mailbox getting his mail and I saw this incident unfold in slow motion. Roscoe bolted out the front door, found a good spot, and lifted his leg. My neighbor saw him and then he started hollering and flapping his mail at Roscoe. I didn’t really know how to respond. On one hand, I felt like I should be ashamed that I let my dog behave in such an uncivilized manner and should somehow attempt to stop the unfortunate series of events at hand and apologize profusely. On the other hand, I thought my neighbor was being awfully silly for freaking out at such a tiny little thing and that he should just let the dog do its business. I know Roscoe is not the first dog to pee on that tree.
When Roscoe and I go for walks, I’m never exactly sure what the rules are regarding dog…business. I live in a pretty rural area. Roscoe and I walk around the perimeter of town, where one side of the street is inside city limits, and the other is not. I don’t feel guilty about letting him deface the edge of a pasture where cows are doing the exact same thing. I certainly don’t let him poop on people’s lawns, but I don’t mind if he pees on utility poles or fire hydrants.
Sunday night Roscoe and I didn’t go for a walk, so I had let him frolic about the neighborhood for a while. When I let him in the house after playtime, he seemed completely normal. I was standing at the entertainment center doing something on my computer (I keep my laptop there because that’s where my speakers are plugged in) and I heard slurping. That’s an unusual noise to hear in the living room, so I turned around to see him eating puke! I said, “oh, Roscoe, don’t eat that!” and then I thought…wait…where did that come from? I never even heard him puke.
I took him out to the garage right away because I didn’t want him to be in my way while I cleaned it up, or, worse, to throw up in the house again. Then I had to strategize. How does one clean up puke? I mean, more serious puke than just a hairball. I’ve cleaned up a hairball. But never full-fledged puke. I decided this occasion called for a spatula. Roscoe is such a sweet dog. He tried to puke on his rug, but he pretty much completely missed. He puked right next to his rug. I grabbed the trash can from the kitchen, held my nose, and scooped up the puke with the spatula. It took several scoops. Fortunately, it didn’t stink too badly. I only almost threw up three times. Then, after all of the puke was safely disposed of, I broke out the Resolve triple action. Thankfully, when I saw that I was running low a while back, I had stocked up. You never know when you might need a fresh supply of carpet cleaner! I spritzed the last drops from one bottle and then dispensed a healthy dose from the brand new bottle. I sprayed, waited, and scrubbed. I’m pretty sure you would never be able to tell there was puke there, but I will always know. I will forever walk around that spot now. Oh, and I scrubbed the spatula. Twice. Then I put it in the dishwasher to be sanitized.
Roscoe seems fine. After I got the puke safely cleaned up, I put him to bed...outside. I didn’t yell or punish him. He didn’t mean to throw up on the carpet. He just overate. I don’t know what he overate, but his tummy must have been pretty full because the volume of the mess appeared much larger that what I would think his little tummy could hold (and apparently it was)!
Monday, September 28, 2009
We all have a drawer at work that houses our handiest stuff. It is the one where we keep our most prized possessions. Even if you are a full time parents you have a drawer where you keep the first aid kit or the box of emergency bribe cookies. We want to see your favorite drawer! E-mail us a photo at email@example.com. We will publish your favorites on Friday!
I’m pretty ashamed to show my office junk drawer to the world, but here it is. There’s the standard tape, stapler, staple remover, letter opener, scissors, binder clips, business cards, etc. Those business cards are duplicates. I keep one copy of everyone’s business card in my Rolodex, but I have some duplicates that I keep on hand in case I need to refer a client to a colleague. I store those in this drawer. This also gives you a little glimpse into my Chapstick obsession. The white one is the one currently in use, but as you can see, I have two waiting in the wings for when the current one runs out. I also have an assortment of over the counter drugs and hand sanitizer. I’m counting on that hand sanitizer to get me through swine flu season unscathed. You might be wondering what the little lapel pin backs are there for. I stick the lapel pins to my bulletin board, but I keep the backs in this drawer…just in case. I don’t know why. The pins just seem incomplete without them.
I work with the general public, and the public is generally grimy. So I keep a stash of cleaning supplies. Specifically disinfecting supplies. My Kleenex are even the antimicrobial kind. I couldn't actually tell you what that means, but it sounds healthy. I was banned from Lysol quite a while ago. Apparently I was giving people headaches with my obsessive spraying. But with our current Swine Flu craziness, I have unbanned myself from it. I do try to keep it confined to my own cubicle. Everyone else can get sick!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
How much cologne is too much cologne? In most articles about job interview etiquette, you will read something about not wearing cologne at your interview. Shouldn’t that carry over to professional environments in general? I mean, if you shouldn’t wear cologne to a job interview, should you really wear it any other professional appointment?
I realize that people’s tastes vary. I can live with that. I can tolerate the scent of cologne that is not particularly appealing to me…as long as it does not suffocate me. Last week I received a visit from a person who always wears strong cologne. I could smell him coming. Generally when people visit my office, I close the door, but this time I chose not to because I thought it might help the fumes dissipate. I was wrong. It didn’t help. Even after my guest left, his essence lingered. My eyes watered. I had to open my window and work at the front desk while my office aired out.
Sometimes I wonder what inspires people to bathe in cologne. I don’t wear perfume very often, but when I do, I apply sparingly. I don’t want the perfume bottle manufacturers’ research and development efforts to have been in vain. I figure they have carefully calibrated the atomizer to dispense the perfect dose of perfume in a single squirt. There’s no need to second guess them. Leave the science of perfume application to the professionals!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Hello, I am LB Fries, or you can call me by my street name of “Pound Fries.” It has a nice, urban feel to it. J
When Lisa asked me to be a guest blogger, I believe that she assumed I would want to write about subjects that are very deep, and have a social conscience feel to them. Nope, I want to write about TV! Namely, I want to write about my secret passion in TV…the Real Housewives Series on Bravo.
The current Real Housewives edition that is on Bravo is the Real Housewives of Atlanta, and by far, it is my favorite. Whenever I have had a bad day, week, heck even a bad minute, if I find one of these episodes on, I immediately feel better after just a small time spent watching. Why? Well, let me explain.
First, I believe the Atlanta edition of this series personifies the old saying of, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Really, I believe these women, who were introduced in Season One as friends, are actually as one of the ladies put it, “associates”, who can turn on each other at any time.
You must see this for yourself to understand. One episode centered on the ladies having a “pole dancing” party in the basement of mansion. This was actually a “how to” party, so that the ladies could learn, or in some cases, brush up on their skills. Believe me; it was pretty evident who had seen time on the pole before. Everyone tried to be supportive of each other, but when one lady actually flipped on the pole, and landed at the bottom in the splits, you had the feeling that professionals were in the house. Lo and behold, it was discovered that a couple of the ladies had been strippers in a past life...perfect!
Another episode centered on one of the ladies, Kim, trying to launch a singing career. Although this is in Season One, you have to take time to find the video of her voice lesson with one of Atlanta’s leading voice teachers…priceless! When I say, she couldn’t carry a tune in a paper bag, I am not exaggerating. However, in Season Two, Kim records a single, with the help of one of the other ladies, Kandi, who was a hip-hop artist in the 90s. Kandi does her magic with a synthesizer, and hey, we have a song suitable for any dance club! In staying true to the theme of the series, Kim then turns against another housewife, who had volunteered to sing back up, to help calm Kim’s nerves. Kim explains this by saying, that now that the song sounds fabulous, it should be all her and no one else in the spotlight. This is followed by a sign of nothing but karma coming back to bite Kim, she falls off of her 4 plus inch heels, and hurts her ankle. Yes, paybacks are not good!
The current episode includes the ladies displaying photos in which the depict “alter egos” of themselves. Well, let’s guess some of the alter egos, shall we? I know this is a stretch, but a few of the alter egos were strippers, mistress, and surprisingly, a drunk driver. The drunk driver, to me, is the signs of a social conscience peeking through, but in the tradition of the Real Housewives series…not much is made about this statement.
For fun, or if you need something to take your mind off the events of the day, tune into the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Believe me, you will actually hug your family afterwards and thank them for being so normal. J
Thursday, September 24, 2009
This Friday we will have our very first guest blogger here at Lame Adventures. I know, I know. It seems a little early to bring in the replacements, but I’m here to tell you, this will be quite a treat. I’m pretty sure lbfries is going to win over our vast readership of seven dedicated individuals with her charming personality and brilliant wit.
I had showed the blog’s homepage to another friend of mine, who asked, “who is Pound Fries?” after reading the list of contributors. Pound Fries? What? OH! I get it! Actually, lbfries is just her street name, but Pound Fries kind of stuck, so from now on she will be referred to on this blog as Pound Fries. Every time I think of it I picture that Chuck E. Cheese Whack-a-Mole game where you smack fuzzy rodents on the head, but instead I see crinkle cut fries popping up and being pounded with a mallet. Or, inspired by my recent state fair visit, deep fried pound cake.
Pound Fries is a friend and coworker of mine at the university and when I told her that I was starting a blog, I asked her what I should write about. Doesn’t every blogger blindly start a blog with no topics or ideas in mind? I thought so. Pound Fries had many exciting suggestions, none of which I knew anything about. Great. Not only am I unprepared to start a blog, I’m also unqualified.
One of her suggested topics was The Real Housewives of Atlanta and I had to admit that I don’t even own a TV… and even if I did, I wouldn’t have cable. So, at that point, we determined that Pound Fries would be our resident TV junkie. Stay tuned…
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
This week we decided to do a photo post about our favorite pens. Everyone has one! You know, the one that causes you to tense up a little when it is momentarily lost under a sheet of paper. What is your favorite pen? Send us a photo and description of why you love it at firstname.lastname@example.org and we will post them next Wednesday!
This is my favorite pen! My credit union gave it to me for free! I use it for everything. I love that the ink flows so smoothly, and in such a skinny line. I wish I knew where to obtain more. Knowing that this pen will eventually run out of ink and I don’t know where to find a replacement stresses me out a little.
My favorite pens are the freebies that you can steal from the bank (or apparently in this case, a Comfort Inn). I love them because they waste ink so generously. I love pens that write in thick, dark lines. I always hide these pens in a desk drawer when I know I won't be at work for a day or two and there is a chance of someone using my desk. I don't think anyone would purposely steal my pens, but I don't want to take any chances!
Monday, September 21, 2009
This was a super exciting weekend! My husband's wonderful boss gave him tickets the the OSU/Rice football game. We took some of C's friends who graduated from OSU. They showed us around campus and we even got to eat Hideaway pizza.
My mom has a theory that sports brings out the worst in people. I think she's right. It amazed me how many people yelled out criticism from the audience. Especially considering the fact that OSU was comfortably winning throughout the entire game. The guy behind us was especially rude. At one point he yelled, "at OSU we have to take the ACT to get in." How does this apply to football, you ask? I'm not really sure. Apparently ACT scores affect your ability to play football. I'm sure there is research on this, but I'm not looking it up. Later we heard him say that the entire Rice football team is probably smarter than OSU's smartest guy. I wonder what this guy's ACT score was. Probably not very high. Later, after the Cowboys made a bad play he yelled, "this game couldn't get any worse!" Er, yes it could. OSU could be losing. But they weren't. They were winning by at least 10 points. Apparently OSU wasn't playing very well. I'm not sure what "good" football looks like, but I do know what a jerk sounds like. And given the choice between good football and nice people, I choose nice people.
I think this is why our parents never encouraged us to play sports. Now please don't assume that they filled our heads with anti-sports ideals and discouraged us from dreams of being the next WNBA star. They would have happily driven us to practices and games where the coach would yell belittling things to us and other parents would yell their own bits of criticism from the stands. But I'm pretty sure my mom knew I couldn't handle that type of confrontation. The coach could have patted me on the head, handed me a piece of candy, and told me to run faster next time and I would have thought I was in huge trouble. I have never understood the point of being yelled at for playing a game. Shouldn't sports be fun?
I was very proud of Rice. They are my new favorite team. They managed to score one field goal in the first half. Later they even got a few touchdowns. Their little group of six cheerleaders ran in a circle with their Rice flags in front of their meager fan section when they scored. Their owl mascot even did push ups! Push ups in an owl costume complete with a giant owl head and owl feet cannot be easy. He was my favorite part of the game. I want to be friends with the owl. That might be difficult considering I don't even know what state Rice is in. I suppose I should find that out if they are my new favorite team.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Yesterday I represented my employer and alma mater at the state fair. The university has a booth there each year and asks representatives from various departments to work there recruiting future students and greeting alumni. Yesterday was the first day of the fair, so I expected things to still be fresh and clean. But it’s the fair. One can’t expect too much.
My shift was scheduled to begin at 6:00. I left the office at 4:00, about an hour early, so I would have plenty of time to park, walk, and grab something to eat before I was to report for duty. Unfortunately, I encountered a serious traffic backup due to an accident on the Interstate. I was able to exit and take a back road for a few miles and avoid some of the mess, but I had already wasted precious time. When I arrived at the fair, there was another traffic jam, so I decided to just park far away and hike. Even though it wasn’t actually raining when I got there, it had been raining so the “parking lot” was pretty soggy. There were some cars stuck in the mud, but I carefully avoided the muddy spots and found a nice, clean spot on the grass. A bonus of attending the fair on the first day!
Another bonus of attending the fair on the first day is that it is Dollar Day! This means exactly what it sounds like it means. Admission is $1. Now, the regular fair clientele isn't the classiest group, but you can imagine who comes out of the woodwork for dollar day. My experience in the public relations booth was fairly uneventful this year. Last year I met some pretty interesting characters, but this year the crowd was pretty tame. I did meet the artist who designed our clock tower and the same lady who wanted to take our mascot home last year stopped by to try to take it from me again this year.
I had my annual state fair corn dog…two, actually. And some questionable lemonade from the hospitality room. I never knew there was such a thing! There is a secret lair where fair vendors can partake of free drinks! Each booth is given two hospitality room tickets at the beginning of the fair (not to be re-issued in case of loss or theft, so keep them in a safe place!) that vendors must present to get into the room. It’s serious business. The hospitality room supervisors carefully inspect your ticket and write something in code on a clipboard. I was glad to play their game, though, because they saved me big bucks on refreshments.
The fair is supposed to close at 9:00 on weekdays, but my booth partner and I saw no signs of traffic slowing down at that time. We were both tired, so we went ahead and straightened up the booth, vacuumed the carpet, and stashed the laptop at 9:00. As I was leaving, there were still people walking toward the gate. I’m not sure what goes on at the fair after it closes, but I doubt it’s something my parents would approve of. I found my car, waded through the mud to get to it, and then strategized on how to get out of the boggy parking lot. I cranked up the four wheel drive, crossed my fingers, and drove toward the opening between two parallel-parked cars. Fortnately, I made it without incident. I got home around 11:00 and hit the sack immediately after scrubbing the state fair off of me with antibacterial soap.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
There should be minimum requirements to be allowed to leave the house and go into public. It is a combination of attitude, cleanliness, and clothing. If you do not meet the minimum requirements, then you should not be allowed to interact with other people.
It shouldn't necessarily be required that you to go out of your way to brighten the day of those around you, that's not your responsibility. You don't have to be excessively nice, that would actually be rather annoying. But it should be required that you put forth an effort not to ruin the day of others. This includes being courteous to strangers instead of yelling and cursing at them.
Sniff your pits before you leave the house. Are they fresh? Good! Proceed to your activity for the day. How do your clothes smell? Like an April breeze? Great, the grocery store is calling you. Have you brushed your teeth today? How about your hair? Everything in order? Wonderful! You have passed the cleanliness test! Continue about your normal business.
Pants are required. No exceptions. You should also be wearing a shirt. If you are wearing a sweatshirt, then it should have a t-shirt underneath. Don't approach me with your sagging pants and bare-chested sweatshirt and ask me for help. It's distracting. And not in a sexy way. Also, while proper foundational garments are required, you get bonus points if I can't see see them, and some people need bonus points.
If you keep these simple guidelines posted by your front door you should be fine. I reserve the right to make fun of you if you don't follow my rules. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. If you have any suggestions, feel free to comment!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The title of our blog is suitably accurate for my first blog post. For some reason, an uncharacteristically high percentage of our adventures involve rodents. I'll tell you the story of my sister's mouse sometime (because I know she certainly won't!) but for now, you're going to hear about my opossum.
Several days ago, I returned home late in the evening to find that my garage door was about 1/4 open. That's not an unusual occurrence because my garage door opener is roughly 30 years old and performs about the way you would expect an appliance of that age to operate. I saw that there was a cat lurking nearby, but I just hoped it had not been there long enough to make itself at home.
I thought nothing more of the incident until a couple days later when I noticed some...evidence...on my garage floor. I blamed the long absent cat and swept the floor. Then, the next day, I came home late again and thought I noticed some scurrying in the back corner of my garage. I thought it might just be shadows, but I had to check just out of curiosity.
Sure enough...there was something furry back there! I have a metal rack with several shelves and there is a box of oak flooring planks on the bottom shelf. I looked back there and saw something furry disappear into the box and thought, "a kitten! That cat had babies in here!" and almost reached for the cute, furry little kitty...until it occurred to me that a three day old kitten wouldn't be big enough to run around yet, especially if its mother had been gone for three days. I pulled back my hand and went to grab a flashlight.
The light of my flashlight revealed not an adorable kitty, but a significantly less adorable opossum. Still cuter than a badger, but not something I would like to host as a permanent resident in my garage. I had to figure out how to get rid of the rodent without touching it, so I gently pushed the box off the shelf and onto the floor where there was plenty of room to work. Then, I used a yardstick to carefully push open each flap of the box. When I finally had the box completely open, the opossum stared at me for a moment, and then bolted. I tried to snap a picture of the little critter before it disappeared, but I missed. I did get a picture of it before I moved the box, though.
I suspect the opossum survived during its stay on cat food, but I doubt the box of floor planks made a very comfortable bed. I'm sure it was ready to move on to greener pastures by the time I caught on to it's unauthorized residence in my garage.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friends, Family, and Random Lurkers,
It all started with a puzzle and a dream. We were hanging out at Lisa’s house, and as her house is very unentertaining, we were doing our best to assemble a jigsaw puzzle (a picture of an air show, if you’re interested). As we were sorting and connecting pieces, we decided this would be a very entertaining blog topic. At the very least, it could be a blog topic—even if we were the only ones who thought it was entertaining.
It all erupted from there. As most people know about us, we are obsessive planners. We came up with plans and a system; themes and ideas. Now we just have to wait and see if our system works. We hope you enjoy our Lame Adventures!
Lisa and Julie