Archives for December 2010

Monday Dare: Excellence in Wifery

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Projectstarted and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please, feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Let bygones be bygones.

Harv and I often spend Saturday afternoons running errands. Glamorous, I know.

One Saturday, we needed to hit several stores, so we carpooled to a large shopping center. He dropped me off at Target and then made his way to Best Buy.

Ninety minutes later, I got worried. Sure, it’s never a good idea to leave me unattended at Target (dammit, Harv, of course we need this avocado slicer), but the real test of our bank account is Harv inside a Best Buy.

I decided to give him a call. After a few attempts, he finally picked up the phone. He sounded a little preoccupied and asked if I could pick up dinner on the way home.

Me: I’m still at Target.

Harv: ……

Me: Hello?

Harv: I forgot that I dropped you off. I came back home to play my new video game.

It’s a good thing I woke up right then. It was a dream, but I was pissed. And, I’m still pissed.

So now, any time we go anywhere, I always part ways with a little warning.

Me: You’d better not leave me at *fill in the blank*, you jerk.

Harv: (sigh) I’m not really sure how to defend myself for something that happened in your dream, but come on, I bet it was World of Warcraft.

Me: Don’t try to weasel your way out of this. I’m still pissed and I’m not done punishing you.

I’m starting the new year fresh. Harv, I forgive you for leaving me at the store.
A big “Thank You for all of the Monday Dare suggestions y’all have sent. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to fit “waitress at the local nudie bar” or “become penpals with a prisoner” into The Project.

A link to all of my previous Monday Dares is here, or you can just click the Monday Dare tab on the side bar.

Please leave some less fucked up other suggestions below. I have 4 slots left on my List of Monday Dares. If I use yours and it wasn’t previously on my list, I’ll give you credit and link to your site. I’ll also send you a $30 gift certificate of your choosing, as long as I can email or snail mail it to you fairly easily.  Don’t make me go to an obscure store in New Hampshire to buy it for you, folks.
photo via FranticMeerkat @

santa, you are profoundly bankrupt

It was pretty exciting growing up in a home where Christmas wasn’t a big deal. Did I say exciting? I meant shitty.

As my mom tucked me in on Christmas Eve, she mentioned that Santa had phoned while I was at school, and he let it slip that he would be bringing me 49 presents. I was eight.

It took forever to fall asleep that night. I thought about all the different ways I could rub in my bounty to the other kids at school. The fat man was going to bring me 49 presents…and I hadn’t even been good that year!

My little enterprising mind started wondering just how many gifts I could get if I actually behaved. 60? 70? Lordy, if I listened to my parents and stopped hitting my little brother, maybe I could get into the triple digits.

I went to bed that night determined to be a good girl the following year.

I rushed downstairs at 4 am the next morning. I only saw two gifts with my name under the tree. Surely, that asshole was playing a trick on me. Where the hell were my 47 other presents? Was this some sort of sadistic holiday gift hunt? Was Santa going to make me scurry around the house looking for my gifts?

I decided I might as well start with the gifts under the tree. I opened the big box first. Looky here, a Christmas sweater. It was nice, except that it WAS Christmas, so I couldn’t even wear it for another 11 months, and by then it probably wouldn’t even fit.

Then, I opened the smaller box. A Crayola box of 48 crayons.

The crayons came in handy that night. I wrote Santa a note with my black crayon, except for a few choice words that I wrote in red. Blood red.
Merry Christmas, folks.

Any Christmas funnies you want to share?

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photo via RansomInk Shop