Ruminations
Good news, they found frozen H2O on the moon. Finally I can see my dream of living on the moon realized! All I need now are the other basics: blender, tequilla, limes, salt and oxygen and I'm ready for blast off.
10 
Putting an 8am meeting/call on someone’s calendar less than 15 hours before said meeting is supposed to take place pretty much means you’ll be hosting a conference call for one.
I’ve never liked the term besties because it reminds me of testies. But if you think about it there are usually two besties and unless there was an unfortunate accident, there are usually two testies...so maybe it’s not all that inaccurate.
If you refer to a cookie as a biscuit, it becomes perfectly acceptable to eat 10 of them with your coffee before 10 am.
It's raining; it's pouring. The old man is snoring. He bumped his head and went to bed and wouldn't get up in the…hey...wait a sec…is the old man dead?! Oh shit…
I am scared to death of fly fishing because I honestly believe that when someone near me goes to cast they will hook my lip with their fly.
“Extra Postage Required?” Don’t think so, Post Office. I sent that card with one stamp and it got there just fine. Methinks someone is in bed with Hallmark. And he wears blue shorts.
If I sneeze once and you don’t say “Bless You,” I’ll let it slide, because maybe you didn’t hear me. But if I sneeze multiple times and you don’t even flinch much less say “Bless you” I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re a sadist.
Every year around Easter, I eat a Peep. And every year, I think they are horrible and vow to never eat them again. Sure, they’re cute and shaped like baby chicks but that taste; it’s like the smell of burning tires in your mouth. Well, maybe they have improved in the last year…I mean, they are purple now! Ok, I’ll try one. Just a tiny little...oh my dear lord they’ve actually gotten worse! Will I never learn?!
What’s the deal with the recent resurgence of beards? Unless you’re wearing flannel and picking apples or chopping down tress with a blue ox named Babe (or just insanely hot with a beard, a category into which only 0.1% of you actually fall), you should reconsider. No, seriously.
I’m almost 100% sure that liquid calories don’t count.
If I wanted to have an intimate relationship with a battery operated device, trust me, texting with you on my cell phone wouldn’t make the cut.
Listen up, headphones, either both of you work properly or we’re through. I don’t tolerate half-ass jobs so pick up the pace, L, because right now R is making you look like an indolent bastard.
Self Control is totally overrated. Except for when it comes to heroin. I think it’s ok to exercise a little self control when shooting life-altering substances into your veins enters the discussion.
Fuck you, city sidewalk grates. You owe me 1500 bucks in shoe replacement fees.
Hey Jerk-off, if you must leave your cell phone ringer on at the office, could you please at least silence the damn thing while you spend 8 years trying to figure out who’s calling before finally deciding to answer? If I have to hear the ring tone version of “In Da Club” one more time, I’ll find a place for your phone that’ll allow you to silence it every time you cough.
Hey, Guy Sitting next To Me on the Bus This Morning, you’re not fooling anyone with your “My Nose Really Itches” routine.
I think all the members of “The Fray” are in need of a big hug.
Growing up, whenever I would ask where something of mine was and my parents didn’t know, they would always respond with the phrase “in my pocket.” “Mom, have you seen my calculus book?” “Yes, it’s in my pocket.” It was annoying but fine until one day when I asked dad if he had seen mom and he responded with “yeah, she’s in my pocket!” Umm….awkward.
Happiness is the last emotion I feel when I am woken up by the musical stylings of the guy from the first floor loudly whistling “Don’t Worry Be Happy” during his 3 AM cigarette break.
If you give birth to Octuplets (allow me to clarify, that’s eight babies), are you allowed to give some away for free?
Very little scares me more than the thought of death by falling icicle.
It doesn’t really matter what the URL is, I will always type www.nameofwhatimlookingfor.com, hit enter, assume that the internet will know to take me where I want to go and become furious when I am instead taken to a website for a public telephone service in New Jersey.
On TV, when two strangers accidentally bump into each other in a coffee shop, the collision is usually followed with the wiping of coffee from inappropriate places, a little witty banter and some flirting. Eventually, the two strangers end up being married (or at least having sex). When a random stranger bumps into me at a coffee shop, the collision is usually followed with “What The Fuck?! Watch where you’re going asshole!” and “I’m sending you my dry cleaning bill.” Because, in real life, no one is charming before coffee.
I’m hard pressed to find something more fun and satisfying than jumping around on and hearing the snap/pop of Bubble Paper.
When I get stressed out at work because I have too many things to do, I make lists to try and put order to my chaotic world. Currently, I’m surrounded by 15 post it notes and three legal pads full of to-dos. I’m beginning to think this list making thing is counter productive.
While in Paris for work, I noticed that many of the toilets there have a feature that requires you to push a “Stop” button to stop the toilet from flushing. What!? I can only imagine the havoc that would ensue when sober me wakes up to a flood Sunday morning because drunk me was so distracted by pizza that she forgot to stop the fucking flusher on the toilet.
How do people who work from home all the time motivate themselves to change out of their pajamas every morning? I’ve been working from home for the past two days and I can’t even bring myself to put on a bra.
Whenever I leave the country, whether I’m heading to India or to France, I always legitimately consider bringing a roll of toilet paper, you know, just in case.
If I tell you I think I’m getting a kidney stone (keep in mind, I’ve had one before), I am not looking for you to tell me about how someone you knew died from one. First of all, I’m not entirely sure that’s possible and second, thanks for successfully freaking me out. I was only trying to explain why I had consumed 2 liters of water before 10 am…but now I’m considering a $7000 trip to the ER.
In grade school, no matter what ailment you had, the school nurse had only one remedy…the icepack. Bumped your knee? Put an icepack on it. Headache? Icepack. Tummy ache? Get an icepack on that belly. Excessive bleeding from paper cut? Here’s a Band-Aid...and an icepack.
Someone please explain to me the methodology behind the 3:30AM “Hey” text. It’s 3:30 AM. The bars are closed. I’m wasted and haven’t heard from you all night. Chances are that by the time I get your text, the only thing I’ll want to make out with is a burrito. So unless you’re planning on covering yourself in sour cream, do us both a favor and save the text for next weekend…and perhaps send it at the more reasonable hour of 2AM.
I never feel guilty eating sweets from foreign countries because in my mind, if the nutritional information is in a language I can’t read and in a form of measure I don’t know, it doesn’t count.
Sometimes I’m too lazy to bother with “stringing” the string cheese.
These days, I very rarely find myself with pen in hand. In fact, aside from my scribble of a signature, I think I’ve forgotten how to write. Can anyone figure out to do a capital G in proper cursive?! That’s some tricky shit.
Fellows, if your hair is long enough to successfully employ the use of a headband; it’s time to seriously rethink your hair style.
I do not take insult to being told that I “throw like a girl” because last I checked, I am one. My uterus could back me up on that.
At the end of a conference call, most people say “Thanks” or “Goodbye.” Today, I put my phone on mute and said “Peace out, Bitchessssss!” only to realize that my boss could still hear me…because his desk is next to mine.
I called my dad to gloat about the amazing unseasonably warm weather we had in Chicago this past weekend. He responded by telling me that back home it was 30 degrees, snowing, the heater broke and the repair man said the soonest he could come was Monday. Could I feel like more of an asshole? Probably not.
How is it possible that as a society we have made incredible advancements in engineering yet we still can’t figure out a way to make a pump that gets the last half inch of liquid soap from the SoftSoap bottle?
Motherhood is a fact. Fatherhood is an assumption...that is until you find yourself subject to DNA testing.
Unless you’re a Cyclops, sporting a unibrow is not OK.
The other day, while at the gym, I got into a debate with my roommate and my trainer about who was cooler, a pirate or a ninja? Between reps of lunges, lat pulls and push ups, we gave it some really serious thought and listed all the pros and cons of both. Then we realized that we were all 25 years old and as long as we had this conversation ninjas, pirates and people who think that they are ninjas or pirates would all be cooler than us.
Turns out that if you’re in a team meeting and your boss says “A little friction is always beneficial,” “That’s what she said” is not an appropriate response.
Why is Colonel pronounced “Kur-nl?” (That’s the actual phonetic pronunciation, don't believe me? Look it up.) In what language does olo=ur? Also, I think it's time to scrap silent or unneeded letters in general. That's right, I'm looking at you, Lincoln.
Sometimes when I come home from work I am starving but have no idea what I want to eat. In this situation I usually start eating whatever comes into my hand first in hopes of finding something that satisfies the mystery craving. An hour later I usually admit defeat and succumb to the fact that I’m stuffed off a poo-poo platter type meal of pickles, carrot sticks, cereal, questionable deli meat and frozen egg rolls.
I have never understood how the nickname “Bill” was derived from the name “William.” “Will,” I get, that’s easy, but who’s the person who mixed up the “w” and the “b” and made the two interchangeable? I think “Bill” is only an acceptable nickname if your parents switched it up and wrote “Billiam” on your birth certificate.
Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, Cookie Monster, The Count, Elmo, Burt and Ernie…we all grew up loving them but let's face it, they're glory hogs. They have book deals, endorsements and toys modeled in their likeness. But what about Grover?! (In case you’re curious, he’s the world traveler/superhero of the bunch.) Reduced to the status of “creepy older muppet,” I bet none of the popular muppets ever bothered to invite him to the Sesame Street Block Parties. I’m also pretty sure he ate lunch by himself….in a bathroom stall.
I am sure everyone has found themselves in this situation (probably when you were younger): you’re not sure how to spell a word so you ask your dad/mom but instead of telling you how to spell it they say “Look it up in the dictionary.” Here’s the thing about the dictionary...you have to know how to spell the word in order to find it. Your parents know this but they’d rather see you struggle with the dictionary because it’s funny as hell to watch a 12 year old look through the “k” section for the word “chaos.”
Having never been in a serious relationship myself, I’m not always 100% clear on all the rules of coupledom but I’m pretty certain that being in a couple does not make it ok to massage each other’s bare feet while dining at a restaurant.
What do you mean I can’t have my cake and eat it too? Why the fuck not? What’s the point of having cake if you can’t eat any? I’d like to meet the genius who came up with that asinine comment and slap them across the face before running away with their cake...I mean...they're not eating, right?
Watching the Olympics last night got me to thinking...if I was to compete in the summer Olympics, which event would it be? (Obviously the one where I'd have the hottest body) Gymnastics? Swimming? Then, like a slap on the ass, it hit me...Beach Volleyball.
Why do gymnasts still wear scrunchies? I didn't even know they were still being manufactured after 1995...
What is the deal with the Wall Street Journal? Is there someone out there who actually reads this whole paper (not just the “What’s News” section) every day and still manages to function as an active member of society? Every morning I’m hopeful that I’ll read at least the majority of the paper and every day I fail. I’m starting to develop a serious inferiority complex…to a newspaper. I give up. You win WSJ. You win. I’ll just go back to reading Business Week.
What’s with old ladies having no inhibitions in gym locker rooms? Nothing is where it should be. It’s like National Geographic in shower shoes. Put some clothes on. I refuse to believe that’s what I’ll look like 40 years...Fuck.
Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.
why do the paper toilet seat covers always fall into the toilet bowl RIGHT as you're about to sit down...everytime
Why is it that when someone invites you to a wedding without a plus one you get really offended, it's like they are openly admitting that they know you're single and that you could never find an acceptable date for the occasion but then as soon as you get invited to a wedding "and guest" you realize that you're single and that you can't find an acceptable date to bring to such an occasion?
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