Tech-free summer is even longer now…

So Owen snuck into our bedroom and was caught using the iPad that had previously been taken away twice, including for the rest of the summer (and then lying about it). Owen was the actual guilty party but Katie knew he’d done it.

I want to take away the new Xbox they’ve been promised, but after some discussion with Tom, we’re not taking it away but the date they get it back will get pushed out if they keep making bad decisions. (Owen has had two major bad decisions since. I’m hoping he gets it by Christmas.)

We’re not even a week into summer break and I’m done.

Dogs don’t understand basic concepts like moving

http://hyperboleandahalf….c-concepts.html

Packing all of your belongings into a U-Haul and then transporting them across several states is nearly as stressful and futile as trying to run away from lava in swim fins.

I know this because my boyfriend Duncan and I moved from Montana to Oregon last month. But as harrowing as the move was for us, it was nothing compared to the confusion and insecurity our two dogs had to endure.

Our first dog is – to put it delicately – simple-minded. Our other dog is a neurotic German shepherd mix with agonizingly low self-esteem who has taken on the role of “helper dog” for our simple dog. Neither dog is well-equipped with coping mechanisms of any kind.

When we started packing, the helper dog knew immediately that something was going on. I could tell that she knew because she becomes extremely melodramatic when faced with even a trivial amount of uncertainty. She started following me everywhere, pausing every so often to flop to the ground in an exaggeratedly morose fashion – because maybe that would make me realize how selfish I was being by continuing to pack despite her obvious emotional discomfort.

And it gets better after this…

A Letter to My Family :: scarymommy

http://www.scarymommy.com/a-letter-to-my-family/

Charity is a mommy to a houseful of five adorable kiddos. Her days are as crazy, busy and fun as you’d expect. She currently feels as though she’s drowning in the toddler phase and uses her blog, Surviving A Two Year Old, to keep her sane.

Dear Family:

I did not get married and have kids to spend my day cleaning and picking up after people. Other then The Baby, EVERYONE else in this house is old enough to take on some degree of responsibility when it comes to picking up after themselves and pitching in on family responsibilities. I am completely overwhelmed and disgusted with the state of this house. Every room is dirty and messy. The laundry is out of control- I am one person and am expected to keep up with clean clothes, towels and bedding for 7 people. I have to fight to even get everyone to bring their clothes to the bathroom. It is ridiculous that the towels are not used more then once; we NEVER have clean towels in the bathroom, despite the fact that I do them every other day. The dirty dishes have been like an assembly line, there’s a constant backup at the dishwasher and I cannot remember what the bottom of my sink looks like. You have no problem making yourselves breakfast, lunch, snacks and then leaving all the mess out for me to clean. No one ever bothers to put their dishes in the dishwasher unless I specifically remind them. The entry way is never picked up- put your coats and shoes away! Everything has a specific home where it belongs; I should not have to pick up your stuff every morning, afternoon and evening. The bathroom is repulsive. When you’re done in there, rinse out the sink. If you get pee on the toilet, wipe it off. If you’re a boy, that means you should be wiping the rim EVERY time you pee. Trust me, it splatters.

To My Husband: I know you are working like crazy and so I expected to have to do more around here. However, it irritates me to no end when you do not even bother to pick up your own stuff. You’ve actually had a convention of shaving creams at our bathroom sink because every time you shave you get out a new one, but never put any away. Brush your teeth, comb your hair, do whatever you need to do—and then put it away! Same goes for the kitchen, and your dirty/clean clothes. The doorknobs in our house are not your personal mini-closets, hang up your shirts.

To My Oldest: The state of your room is appalling. We do not live out of U-Haul boxes. If you need shelves or storage space, let us know. You are not 70 years old yet, stop collecting like you are. Take some pride in your personal space and keep it picked up.

To My Daughter: You used to do so well keeping your room picked up, and I know it’s hard because The Baby is sleeping in there, but you never pick up anymore. The dust level is unhealthy.

Little Boys: PICK UP AFTER YOURSELVES!!! Taking things out just for the sake of throwing them around will only get your stuff thrown away. I’m not picking up after you anymore.

I am done setting up chore charts, responsibilities, rewards for work done. Nothing ever sticks or works. It always involves me nagging people to keep up with the current attempt. There are things everyone should be doing on a daily basis with NO reminders. There are things everyone should be responsible for on a regular basis to ease the load on me. Figure it out. Come up with a plan that YOU will make work. Divide out the work. Write it down if need be, but I am NOT coming home until you’ve all figured out a concrete way to make things work better around here.

Call me when you’ve got it figured out then me and the power cords to every electric screen in this house will come home.

Love,
Mom

The Husband Store

A store that sells new husbands has opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates.

YOU MAY ONLY VISIT THIS STORE ONCE!
There are six floors and the value of the products
increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The
shopper may choose any item from a particular
floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but
you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:

Floor 1
These men Have Jobs

She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 2
These men Have Jobs and Love Kids

“That’s nice, she thinks, “But I want more.” So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:

Floor 3
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking

“Wow,” she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going. She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 4
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework

“Oh, mercy me!” she exclaims, “I can hardly stand it!” Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 5
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 6
You are visitor #31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at The Husband Store.

PLEASE NOTE:

To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opened a New Wives Store just across the street.

The first floor has wives that love sex.

The second floor has wives that love sex, have their own money, and like beer.

The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth floors have never been visited.

I’m Comic Sans, Asshole.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net…5comicsans.html

Of course, I can’t figure out how to write this blog post in Comic Sans, so it takes a little bit away from it, but you can read it in its correct format on the linked page!

I’m Comic Sans, Asshole.
BY MIKE LACHER

– – – –

Listen up. I know the shit you’ve been saying behind my back. You think I’m stupid. You think I’m immature. You think I’m a malformed, pathetic excuse for a font. Well think again, nerdhole, because I’m Comic Sans, and I’m the best thing to happen to typography since Johannes fucking Gutenberg.

You don’t like that your coworker used me on that note about stealing her yogurt from the break room fridge? You don’t like that I’m all over your sister-in-law’s blog? You don’t like that I’m on the sign for that new Thai place? You think I’m pedestrian and tacky? Guess the fuck what, Picasso. We don’t all have seventy-three weights of stick-up-my-ass Helvetica sitting on our seventeen-inch MacBook Pros. Sorry the entire world can’t all be done in stark Eurotrash Swiss type. Sorry some people like to have fun. Sorry I’m standing in the way of your minimalist Bauhaus-esque fascist snoozefest. Maybe sometime you should take off your black turtleneck, stop compulsively adjusting your Tumblr theme, and lighten the fuck up for once.

People love me. Why? Because I’m fun. I’m the life of the party. I bring levity to any situation. Need to soften the blow of a harsh message about restroom etiquette? SLAM. There I am. Need to spice up the directions to your graduation party? WHAM. There again. Need to convey your fun-loving, approachable nature on your business’ website? SMACK. Like daffodils in motherfucking spring.

When people need to kick back, have fun, and party, I will be there, unlike your pathetic fonts. While Gotham is at the science fair, I’m banging the prom queen behind the woodshop. While Avenir is practicing the clarinet, I’m shredding “Reign In Blood” on my double-necked Stratocaster. While Univers is refilling his allergy prescriptions, I’m racing my tricked-out, nitrous-laden Honda Civic against Tokyo gangsters who’ll kill me if I don’t cross the finish line first. I am a sans serif Superman and my only kryptonite is pretentious buzzkills like you.

It doesn’t even matter what you think. You know why, jagoff? Cause I’m famous. I am on every major operating system since Microsoft fucking Bob. I’m in your signs. I’m in your browsers. I’m in your instant messengers. I’m not just a font. I am a force of motherfucking nature and I will not rest until every uptight armchair typographer cock-hat like you is surrounded by my lovable, comic-book inspired, sans-serif badassery.

Enough of this bullshit. I’m gonna go get hammered with Papyrus.

Tea Time

One day my mother was out, and my dad was in charge of me.

I was maybe 2 1/2 years old. Someone had given me a little ‘tea set’ as a gift, and it was one of my favorite toys.

Daddy was in the living room engrossed in the evening news when I brought Daddy a little cup of “tea,” which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Mom came home.

My Dad made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was just the cutest thing! My Mom waited, and sure enough, here I came down the hall with a cup of tea for Daddy; and she watched him drink it up.

Then she said (as only a mother would know), “Did it ever occur to you that the only place she can reach to get water is the toilet?”

Ruminations from comedian Aaron Karo

http://www.ruminations.com/

-More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can’t wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that’s not only better, but also more directly involves me.

-Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.

-I don’t understand the purpose of the line, “I don’t need to drink to have fun.” Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they’ve invented the lighter?

-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.

-That’s enough, Nickelback.

-I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.

-Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the “people you may know” feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not to be friends with?

-Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn’t work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ’s. We just figured it out. Today’s kids are soft.

-There is a great need for sarcasm font.

-Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the f was going on when I first saw it.

-I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.

-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

– I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.

– A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

– Was learning cursive really necessary?

– Lol has gone from meaning, “laugh out loud” to “I have nothing else to say”.

– I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

– Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

– My brother’s Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, “Cuz we beat you, and you hate us.” Classy, bro.

– Whenever someone says “I’m not book smart, but I’m street smart”, all I hear is “I’m not real smart, but I’m imaginary smart”.

– How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said?

– I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

– Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using ‘as in’ examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss’s last name to an attorney and said “Yes that’s G as in…(10 second lapse)..ummm…Goonies”

-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

– While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it…thanks Mario Kart.

– MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood..

– Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

– I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

-Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

-I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.

– Bad decisions make good stories

-Whenever I’m Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don’t mind if I do!

– Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

-If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I’m from, this shouldn’t be a problem….

-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you’ve made up your mind that you just aren’t doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

-Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don’t want to have to restart my collection.

-There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

-I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

– “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this ever.

-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There’s so much pressure. ‘I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren’t watching this. It’s only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?’

-I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What’d you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

– I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste..

-When I meet a new girl, I’m terrified of mentioning something she hasn’t already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

-I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it’s on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

-Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles…

– As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

-Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

-It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

-I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

-Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn’t know what do to with it.

-Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time…

-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day “Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?” How the hell do I respond to that?

-It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

-I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

-I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

-I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

-The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There’s nothing like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.

Favorite Mother’s Day Moment

Great email story—who knows if it’s true or not, but it’s certainly hilarious!

So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom.

Well we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli. Eli really loves chapstick. LOVES it. He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it. So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done.

Last year on Mother’s Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood.

We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom. And there was Eli. He was applying my chapstick very carefully to Jack’s . . . rear end. Eli looked right into my eyes and said “chapped.”

Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right—their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn’t seem to mind. And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat’s behind or the hundredth.

And THAT is my favorite Mother’s Day moment ever because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they’ve been using your chapstick on the cat’s butt.

Math and Logic

Remember, this is a strictly mathematical viewpoint. It goes like this:

What makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?

Here’s a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

is represented as:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K = 8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

and

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E = 11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But,

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E = 1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

And,

B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T = 2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

AND, look how far ass kissing will take you.

A-S-S-K-I-S-S-I-N-G = 1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty, that while Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, its the Bullshit and Ass kissing that will put you over the top.

Vague & Vaguerer

Home Builder | Edmonton, AB, Canada

Me: “Good morning, *** Homes.”

Customer with really thick accent: “How much is house?”

Me: “Which home is that? Would you like to speak with a Realtor?”

Customer: “No, how much is house? House?”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you that without an address––and in any case, you need to speak with a Realtor.”

Customer: “House! How much is house?!”

Me: “More than a couch, less than a rocket ship. Have a nice day!”

What’s scary is this sounds like actual calls we get at our office! -jen

Whatever you give a woman, she’s going to multiply.

Whatever you give a woman, she’s going to multiply.
If you give her sperm, she’ll give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she’ll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she’ll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she’ll give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.
So—if you give her any crap, you will receive a ton of shit.

Love and appreciate all the women in your life.

BBQ Rules

We are in the BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity. When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine…

  • The woman buys the food.
  • The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
  • The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill—beer in hand.
  • The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.

Here comes the important part:

  • THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
  • The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
  • The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat.

Important again:

  • THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
  • The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
  • After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:

  • Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
  • The man asks the woman how she enjoyed “her night off.” And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women.

Women’s Ass Size Study

There is a new study just released by the American Psychiatric Association about women and how they feel about their asses. The results are pretty shocking:

  1. Only 5% of women surveyed feel their ass is too big.
  2. 10% of women surveyed feel their ass is too small.
  3. The remaining 85% say they don’t care—they love him—he’s a good man and they would have married him anyway.

One Woman’s Tale of Woe

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal—the epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ” Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.” So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.

It was one of those “cold wax” kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!) So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (“Cold wax”—yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.

Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself….RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I ‘m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. >:XX Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out…must stay conscious…Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy—a wax-covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX??? Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. >:XX I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake…remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. >:XX I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself ” Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off! ” What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!* I get in the tub—the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment—I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub…in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax. So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter “So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!” There is a slight pause.

She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, “Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?” She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.

YEAH!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace….the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care. “IT WORKS!! It works!! ” I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair….THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point. Next week I’m going to try hair color……

To all pet owners

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door at nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats,

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn’t help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years—canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat’s butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:

  1. They live here. You don’t.
  2. If you don’t want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That’s why they call it furniture.)
  3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
  4. To you, it’s an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn’t speak clearly.

Remember: In many ways, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

  1. Eat less
  2. Don’t ask for money all the time
  3. Are easier to train
  4. Normally come when called
  5. Never ask to drive the car
  6. Don’t hang out with drug-using friends
  7. Don’t smoke or drink
  8. Don’t have to buy the latest fashions
  9. Don’t want to wear your clothes
  10. Don’t need a “gazillion” dollars for college.
  11. And finally, if they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

What if Microsoft Built Cars?

Every time they repainted the lines on the road, you’d have to buy a new car.

Occasionally your car would just die on the motorway for no reason, and you’d have to restart it. For some strange reason, you’d just accept this, restart and drive on.

Occasionally, executing a manouvre would cause your car to stop and fail to restart and you’d have to re-install the engine. For some strange reason, you’d just accept this, too.

You could only have one person in the car at a time, unless you bought a “Car 95” or a “Car NT”; But then you’d have to buy more seats.

Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was twice as reliable, five times as fast, twice as easy to drive—but it would only run on five percent of the roads.

The Macintosh car owners would get expensive Microsoft upgrades to their cars which would make their cars go much slower.

The oil, engine, gas and alternator warning lights would be replaced with a single “General Car Fault” warning light.

People would get excited about the “new” features in Microsoft cars, forgetting completely that they had been available in other cars for many years.

We’d all have to switch to Microsoft gas and all auto fluids but the packaging would be superb.

New seats would force everyone to have the same size butt.

The airbag system would say “Are you sure?” before going off.

If you were involved in a crash, you would have no idea what happened.

They wouldn’t build their own engines, but form a cartel with their engine suppliers. The latest engine would have 16 cylinders, multi-point fuel injection and 4 turbos, but it would be a side-valve design so you could use Model-T Ford parts on it.

There would be an “Engium Pro” with bigger turbos, but it would be slower on most existing roads.

Microsoft cars would have a special radio/cassette player which would only be able to listen to Microsoft FM, and play Microsoft Cassettes. Unless of course, you buy the upgrade to use existing stuff.

Microsoft would do so well, because even though they don’t own any roads, all of the road manufacturers would give away Microsoft cars free, including IBM!

If you still ran old versions of Car (i.e. CarDOS 6.22/CarWIN 3.11), then you would be called old fashioned, but you would be able to drive much faster, and on more roads!

If you couldn’t afford to buy a new car, then you could just borrow your friend’s, and then copy it.

Whenever you bought a car, you would have to reorganize the ignition for a few days before it worked.

You would need to by an upgrade to run cars on a motorway next to each other.

When you’ve had a really bad day…and want to feel better!

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know…

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying, “Hello.”

I politely said, “This is Fred Hannifin. Could I please speak with Robin Carter?” Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me… I couldn’t believe that anyone could be that rude.

I tracked down Robin’s correct number and called her. I had transposed the last two digits of her phone number. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “You’re an asshole!” and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word ‘asshole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’re an asshole!” It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic ‘asshole’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, “Hi, this is John Smythe from the XYZ Telephone Company. I’m just calling to see if you’re familiar with the Caller ID program?”

He yelled, “NO!” and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re an asshole!”

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his car window…so, I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole, (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too.
I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?”

“Yes, it is,” he said.

“Can you tell me where I can see it?”

“Sure, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It’s a yellow house, and the car’s parked right out in front.” he replied.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is Don Hansen,” he said.

“When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”

He said, “I’m home every evening after five.”

“Listen, Don, can I tell you something?”

“Yes?” he said.

“Don, you’re an asshole.” Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several months of calling them, it just wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be…

So, I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1.

“Hello.”

“You’re an asshole!” (But I didn’t hang up.)

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Stop calling me!!!” he screamed.

“Make me,” I said.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Don Hansen.”

“Yeah,” Where do you live?”

“I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in the drive, Asshole.”

He said, “I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.”

I said, “Yeah, like I’m really scared, asshole.”

Then I called Asshole #2.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hello, asshole,” I said.

He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are!!”

“You’ll what?” I said.

“I’ll kick your ass!” he exclaimed.

I answered, “Well, asshole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.”

Then I hung up and immediately called the police. I told them that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and that I was on my way over there to kill my cheating, gay lover.

Then I called Channel 13 News about the gang war going down on West 34th Street.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th Street.

There I saw the two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and news crew.

NOW, I feel better.

Stupid Driver Gripes

Give me a license to pull people over and write tickets and you don’t even have to pay me.

I SWEAR THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED: In the left lane, a slow-moving garbage truck. In the right lane, a slower-moving semi. I was in the left lane, behind the truck and another car. As us two left-lane travellers are approaching the point where we can merge in front of the semi, the car in front of me moves into the left turn lane. Cool, I think, he is getting out of my way and I will be able to pass the truck and semi sooner. So, as I merge into the right lane (in front of the semi) and then go to move back into the left lane (in front of the truck), GUESS WHO IS ALSO MOVING BACK INTO THE LEFT LANE IN FRONT OF THE GARBAGE TRUCK?? The guy who had gone into the left turn lane!! YES, FOLKS, THE @*$!% USED THE LEFT TURN LANE TO PASS!! Had I been paying less attention, or had I moved just a hair quicker, he would have smacked right into me. WHERE ARE THE COPS WHEN YOU NEED THEM?? Needless to say I flipped the guy off.

I SWEAR THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED: I’m in the left lane behind a slow-moving car. There’s no one in the right lane, but there’s not really enough distance for me to worry about passing because I NEED to be in the left lane to make a left turn two lights up (a short distance). So we come to a stop at a red light, and there’s STILL no one in the right lane. The light turns and off we go, still moving slow. Well, about 2 car lengths before the light (which is two lane/left and right turn only), the car decided to get in the right lane, which is now, of course, packed with cars turning right. So the car stops, with his blinker on, waiting for someone to let him in, which isn’t going to happen because there’s about 10 cars in line waiting to turn right, so he will never get over—let alone through the light—before it turns red. HELLO? Can we say planning ahead? In the meantime, about 8 cars—including me—are backed up behind this idiot in the left turn lane. So I broke the law, crossed the double yellow center line, and passed the fool. Everyone after me followed suit, and I didn’t bother to look behind me to see what happened to the idiot in the car.

I HATE PEOPLE WHO:

Leave their blinker on FOREVER when they’re obviously not changing lanes. It’s even MORE annoying when you hang back to let them in and they don’t merge.

Slow down before getting into the left or right turn lane (when there’s obviously NOTHING in their way TO slow them down), thereby causing you to slow down as well.

Slow down on the expressway BEFORE getting into the exit lane (duh, that’s what the lane is there for—so you don’t interrupt normal traffic flow).

Think they’re SOOOOO cool and sit leaning WAAAAY back in their seat (so you can barely see their eyes over the door frame) and drive with one arm; this is generally a young man in a muscle car. (See next item.)

Can barely see over the steering wheel, for whatever reason. THIS JUST CAN’T BE SAFE! Get over your insecurities and sit on a book or something—no one else other than your occupants will know, and the rest of us will feel a lot safer knowing you can see your surroundings!!

Aren’t paying attention (or don’t know the rules of the road) and don’t turn right on a red light.

Keep inching forward at a red light and then don’t go when it turns green.

Pull out RIGHT in front of you when there’s NO ONE behind you…and then don’t speed up.

Dart in and out of heavy [generally rush-hour] traffic to get ahead—when it’s obviously pointless since you end up stopped at the light together. (See next item.)

Cut in front of you (with barely a foot to spare) just because you’re not tailgating like everyone else.

Fly by you going at least 75mph in a 55mph zone, and then slow down to 70mph on the expressway, so you pass them doing 75.

Refuse to approach actual highway speed while on the expressway on-ramp, interfering with your own merge onto the highway.

Live in Michigan (or northern states in general) and don’t know how to drive in inclement weather or on snowy/icy roads. They either drive way slower or faster than conditions warrant, or think that they can blast through anything just because they are driving a 4×4 (FYI: 4x4s really have no effect on ice—they slip just like the rest of us).

Wait for you to pull out of a “good” parking spot instead of parking 5 spaces farther away.

Don’t go the speed limit. This is especially annoying on a rural highway (55mph) when it’s impossible to pass and you’re stuck doing 45-50mph because they’re out joyriding.

Drive in the left lane at the EXACT pace as the right lane—instead of using it for passing, which, of course, is what YOU want to do. This can happen either on the highway or a 4-lane thoroughfare.

Are driving slow for miles and miles…until you get to a passing lane (or a passing area) and suddenly they’re moving at the speed of light—so you can’t pass—and then after the passing area is over, they slow back down to their previous speed.

Don’t use cruise control…they pass you and then you pass them and then they pass you and then you pass them—all the while not changing YOUR speed at all.

Force you to pass them on the right. They stay in the passing lane regardless of their (your) speed, and then look at you like they’re pissed that you passed them on the right…and then they STILL don’t get over in the right lane.

Stay (or get) right on your ass, so, thinking they really want to pass, you move over to let them, and then they drop in right behind you.

Are going a bit slower than you, so you pass them, then they get on your ass, so you move over to let them pass, and they stay in the left lane going your same speed…which causes you to nudge your speed up a bit (because, of course, you’re quickly approaching another slow-moving car), and you cut in front of them to pass [the second car] bceause they didn’t keep up their passing speed. (I just did this recently and I LOVE it. Serves them right for not having the balls to pass.) BUT THEN, they have to get right on your ass again, and then fly by you doing 90, only to slow down again 2 miles later. Whatever.

Have waited too long to pass and then DART in front of you, causing you to hit the brakes. (See next item.)

Cut in front of you to pass and then don’t get out of your way when they see you quickly coming up behind them.

Turn their blinker on RIGHT AS they’re making the turn.

Don’t use their blinker when cutting directly in front of you.

Dart in front of semis as they’re coming to a stop—as if semis can stop on a dime.

Come to a complete stop before merging onto the highway. TWH

Have been waiting in the “left-turn-only” lane and THEN decide to go straight—pulling right out in front of you and cutting you off (since you were in the correct lane). This actually happened to my boyfriend, and he almost got into an accident because of the asshole. TWH

Wait and wait and wait to pull out into traffic and then pull out RIGHT in front of you—when if they would have gone right away, there wouldn’t have been any problem.

Don’t know when to honk the horn.

  • This actually happened…A mini-van almost causes an accident with an Explorer, the Explorer screeches to a (sliding) halt to avoid the collision, and then comes to a stop behind the mini-van, which is now stopped at a red light. The Explorer then sits behind the mini-van at the light for at least a minute, and then, as traffic starts moving again, decides to start honking the horn. So, may I ask, what is the point of honking so long after the fact?? That’s just it—THERE IS NO POINT—it’s a stupid driver. Honk at the time or don’t honk at all.

AND JUST WHEN I START TO THINK I CAN’T COME UP WITH ANY MORE GRIPES, WE TAKE A WEEKEND TRIP…

Can’t maintain a constant speed (in a no-passing zone, of course) and consequently travel at 65mph, then 50…55…60…55…50…65, etc. I’d much rather follow someone going a constant 60mph than some idiot going all speeds.

Don’t give it extra gas to maintain speed going up a hill, so they slow down to 45 or 50mph, and then reach 70-75mph going down the hill.

When I’m the third car in line and the idiot in front of me refuses to pass the slowpoke in front of him—even when there’s PLENTY of time, which means I never (okay, rarely) have enough room to pass both cars at once.(See next item.)

When someone then comes up behind me and, since they’re obviously so much more studly than anyone else in line, they attempt to pass all three of us, and then have to cut in the middle somewhere because they ran out of time. I’d like to NOT let those people back in and force them to run off the road—it’s the price they would pay for their stupidity.

Don’t turn their brights off after you pass them.

Get on your tail like they want to pass at a faster rate than you’re currently going, so you speed up to finish passing, and then they drop way behind you and never pass.

Have to fly by you to pass, and then pull RIGHT IN FRONT of you. (OR…see next item.)

Have to fly by you to pass, and then pull RIGHT IN FRONT of you…ONLY to slow down so you have to pass them 10 seconds later.

Pull out directly in front of you when you’re doing 70—causing you to practically slam on the brakes—only to turn off a half mile down the road. Generally these are old people.

Make like they’re going to turn into a drive, so you go to drive around them, and then they suddenly pull back into the stream of traffic and you have to slam your brakes to avoid hitting them.

People who cut in front of you to make it onto the exit at the last minute because they either weren’t paying attention or they have no idea where they’re going (on ramp or off ramp, it’s the same story).

Brake at every intersection (major or minor) because they apparently have no idea where they need/want to turn.

Drive down the middle of the highway for more than 50-75 yards or so. Are they drunk? Do they realize what they’re doing? Don’t they care? Do they think they own the road?

Are driving in the left lane (of a city thoroughfare) and are partially hanging over into the left turn lane—forever.

VISITOR SUBMISSIONS

Courtesy of Chuck Johnson, who had this to say:

“I just read your driver thing, and I done woke up my roommate laughing my bollocks off…I think I have experienced every one of those on my journey to California.”

  • How about the motorhome towing a Geo Tracker in the slow lane and then pulls in front of me when I’m doing Mach 5 to get around a semi who is going 3 miles an hour slower then he [the motorhome] is … So [the motorhome] goes back to [the slow lane in front of
    the semi] … and now that they are going the same speed, they both approach the small incline and the motorhome is now going slower and the semi is going a constant speed [so the semi passes] and now the motorhome is behind the semi again. The motorhome driver is
    usually this little Mr. Magoo type of person who is white-knuckled and confused.
  • Or the old Honda Civic Hitler Mobile that you get stuck behind at a stop light, just so it can just totally smoke you out during the whole process.
  • Or the people who are too scared to pass the cop car that is from a whole different county.
  • Commuting to college is one thing when you’re doing it during rush hour, but when you add stupid drivers you are essentially adding another half hour to the commute. I approached Hwy 18 off of I-5 which has a steep hill with a passing lane. I decided to just punch it in the “Hammer” lane and get ahead of the Semi. Well half way up was the guy who was at the end of a pack of cars and is now in the lead and doesn’t want to committ to the 15MPH+ over the speed limit rule and realizes that he doesn’t want any of that and tries to get over……when there’s a semi right next to him. So he just coasts with his signal now in the off position. Now I am getting passed by everyone changing lanes and the exit is coming up. So now I am signaling, trying to get over, and all I get is the finger. I just laugh and realize this is just another moment of a “Stupid Drivers” episode.

Courtesy of Jim, who had this to say:

“Great list! Had road rage till I started commuting 120 miles daily – now just watch and wonder.”

  • The person who pulls out of a side road onto a busy 2-lane in front of of a long string of traffic traveling at 50mph.. which is alright..(esp in Boston, where everyone expects it) EXCEPT, unlike in Boston, the idiot takes 1/2 mile to accelerate to speed “because it saves gas”!!! Never mind that everyone else had to slow down behind the moron and used up more gas total than if he’d floored it. AND (!!!) if he has a late model car with port EFI, he aint saving any gas anyway.. Saab proved it. (slow vs accelerating Briskly, not flooring it)
  • You leave your house and as you pull onto a street a block down from the stop sign at the intersection, you see someone facing you, waiting to turn left .. you stop at the sign – the traffic clears and HE NOW WAITS ON YOU TO CROSS!!!! Of course you hesitate to pull in front of him, because he MIGHT be dozing and realize he has the right-of-way and smack you on principle… and the BEST variant.. You wait for 2 minutes at a sign for the traffic to clear so you can turn left onto a thru street; Just as a small gap in the traffic appears—some yo-yo comes screaming up to the sign opposite yours and flips on his right turn signal.. Now do you go or not??? I GO and see the guy mouthing Expletives at me.. You know, you cant even get a cop to define the right-of-way in these situations!!! I think they really dont know… Keep it up but keep smiling—life’s too short.

PEEVES I SNAGGED

Todd is bellyaching about…WHAT is the deal with jackasses who INSIST on BACKING into parking spaces?!? There is NO reason for this AT ALL!!! I’m driving through a parking lot. There’s someone in front of me. I see them pass an empty spot. “Oh, boy,” I cheerfully think. “I’ll get to park there my very own self!” But, before I can even begin to turn my wheels in the direction of the spot, that car’s back-up lights spring to life, and the chowderhead is now BACKING INTO THE SPOT!!! And he can’t do it quickly, either. Or correctly. He’s got to shift into D again, so he can straighten out, then back into R so he can get in the space. HELLO?!? Does the entire world have to stop and wait for your precious vehicle to get itself situated? Why the he** can’t you just pull into the spot facing FRONT?!? Do you honestly think that you’re impressing anyone? Has it not occurred to you in that peabrain of yours that any time you think you’re saving by being able to pull out of the spot going forwards is taken away by your inablility to back into the space in the first place? You people make me SICK!!!

And Misty says…It’s not really a peeve just a comment on the guys with low rider cars. It’s funny how they will buy a $4,000 – $5,000 car and spend $2,000 having it lowered so it’s about one inch off the ground, another $1,500 on reverse wheels, and at least $1,000 on the stereo, and of course, the big tailpipe extension that looks like a chrome funnel. I know they must think they have the hottest babe magnet vehicles around, but what they really have is a funny looking car, that can’t go over a speed bump at more than 0.25 MPH, a stereo that does nothing but blare out “THUMPA THUMPA THUMPA” to be heard for miles around, forget trying to have a conversation while the stereo is playing, and a tailpipe that makes their car sound like its blowing farts as they drive. Get a clue guys, the ladies aren’t impressed.

And an AOLer says…We have a lot of construction on our highways and especially the Interstate. My peeve is when one of the lanes is closed ahead, people have plenty of time to merge but they continue to fly around me and then want to merge into traffic right when the closed lane ends. Someone will always let them in line but you can bet it won’t be me.

And Grandnet says…One of my peeves is parents who carelessly drive around with small children not in car seats. I’m always seeing people with their little ones standing on the seat next to them. Why do these people think that there is a law concerning small children and car seats? So the kid fusses, give him a sucker, but don’t put his life in danger. Accidents can happen in the blink of an eye and the kid can be airborne and through the windshield before you know what’s happened. Maybe these parents just don’t care.

Roommate Rules

Extenuating circumstances will, of course, be taken into consideration regarding all the following rules.

KITCHEN RULES

Preferably, dishes should be taken care of right after eating/cooking or within the same day. If someone else wants to use the pan you just used, they shouldn’t have to wash it OR wait for you to wash it. They should also not have to move your dishes to use the sink to wash their own dishes. If not at all possible, they should stay in ONE side of the sink only…no fair taking up BOTH sides of the sink (see next item).

NO STACKING DISHES TWO FEET HIGH ON ONE SIDE OF THE SINK.

No dirty dishes in the sink longer than two days if they’re just dishes. This means nothing that holds water and can start smelling.

No dirty dishes in the sink longer than one day if they’re icky, really-need-to-be-washed-and-you’re-just-feeling-lazy-I’ll-get-around-to-it-whenever dishes.

No dirty dishes/pots/pans left sitting on the stove or counter longer than a day.

If you drop or spill something, or something leaks a) on the floor, b) in the frig, c) anywhere, clean it up. This means wipe up your toast crumbs, flour dust, cooking spatters, etc.

Keep the microwave wiped out. If something explodes or spatters, it’s much easier to clean then instead of later when it’s hard and crusty and caked on.

If something boils over, wash the metal plate under the burner. Don’t keep cooking on it, letting it burn and stick more.

If something falls onto the burner, clean it off—don’t just let it sit there and burn and stick more.

When washing the pots/pans, wash the outside of it, too. And make sure it’s clean. Once it’s dry, if you notice it’s still dirty, DON’T PUT IT AWAY. Wash it again.

Don’t leave the dishes in the drainboard for more than a day or two. Put them away as soon as they’re dry, if possible, if you haven’t dried them individually.

Don’t leave food on the counter/take care of leftovers. (Sure, this may sound obvious, but I’ve seen cornbread in the pan on the counter for two weeks. This is just plain ridiculous.)

NO STACKING THE GARBAGE TWO FEET HIGH. Empty it when it needs to be emptied.

Clean out the frig on a regular basis. Meaning, go through your shit, and if you’re not going to eat something, toss it—and if it’s bad, toss it. Don’t let it sit there (in the way) until it starts smelling or your roommate takes it upon herself to throw it away because you won’t.

Don’t leave jars/containers/pitchers/etc. in the frig with only smidgeons of stuff or three sips of juice. Finish, empty, or toss it.

Become a Tupperware Mistress. Meaning, get used to putting stuff in Tupperware!! Don’t just cover a huge plate (or whatever) in tinfoil and leave it. Don’t leave something in the soup pot for a week after you’ve made it. When portions get smaller, transfer it to a smaller container. Yes, I realize this one is somewhat personal choice, but…if I want to use the soup pot, it better not be in the frig with 3-day-old soup. And I don’t want to have to worry about knocking your stupid corn-on-the-cob off the plate when I have to move it to get to something else you’ve conveniently blocked. (Yes, I’ve seen corn-on-the-cob on a dinner plate, barely/loosely covered in foil—FOR A WEEK AND A HALF!! Like the foil was helping anything. You might as well just throw the corn in there by itself.)

DISHWASHER RULES

Run it when it needs to be run (i.e. when we’ve run out of something). Don’t wait to fill it to the brim if we’re out of glasses or silverware.

If there’s room, ask your roommate if she has any dishes in her room she’d like to add.

When the dishes are clean, EMPTY THEM. Don’t stack dishes throughout the kitchen just to avoid emptying it and don’t use dishes out of the dishwasher in hopes that someone else will empty it. If you’re the first person there, empty it. Try to keep things equal.

Don’t put in big Tupperware—especially if it’s not that dirty (i.e. bread crumbs/chopped veggies, etc.). Take the 30 seconds and wash it by hand so we can fit REAL dishes in to be washed.

When loading the dishwasher, load all the dishes that are around in the kitchen, don’t just load your own.

Learn how to load it correctly. (There’s nothing more irritating than a bowl in the wrong place taking up the space of 4 dishes.)

MISCELLANEOUS RULES

No fair clogging up the kitchen table with stupid miscellaneous shit for more than the time you might be working on something (i.e. balancing a checkbook/working on a scrapbook/something similar where you need the use of the entire table). It doesn’t matter that no one immediately needs to use it—it looks tacky.

You can do whatever you want—create whatever mess you want—when the roommate is gone for the weekend, but everything better be somewhat picked up by the time the roommate gets back. This goes for the kitchen (dishes especially) and the living room/dining area. No one likes to come home to a disgusting house when they left it in a decent condition.

Try to pay bills ahead of when they’re due—and mail it in time. Whoever is responsible for the bill being late pays the late fee.

If the bill is in your name, you take the higher half and you mail it. (It sounds petty since “the higher half” is only a penny more, but it’s the principle of the thing and it’s only fair.)

If any form of a rebate is given to the apartment on a bill, it will be split 50/50, regardless of who spends more. (Yeah, I know it sounds logical, but one of my roommates split a long-distance phone rebate about 20/80 in her favor because, as she said, she spent more.)

“IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING” RULES

Long-distance calls take precedence unless it’s important or an emergency.

You must answer call-waiting beeps if at all possible, unless you’re in the middle of a crisis phone call.

Leave roommate’s messages on the machine. Meaning don’t just write it down for them, since we all know we can’t take as detailed a message as people usually leave.

If you need to use some food of your roommate’s, ask first if possible.

Always replace food items if you finish it or use a lot of it. Don’t use all but 1 teaspoon of the butter and then leave it just so you won’t have to replace it. (This was done to me a number of times.)

Roommates will agree (this might include compromising) on some sort of cleaning schedule for common areas, whether it be duties-per-person-per-week or duties split between who hates/likes doing something.

Roommates will inform, if/when possible, when guests will be arriving/around.

Be considerate—if your roommate is watching TV/listening to the radio, ask if it’s okay if you do the other—don’t just do it. If it’s okay, keep the volume down.

Roommates will agree on use of air conditioning. It should not be running when it’s cool outside and you just don’t feel like opening a window or turning on a fan.

Roommates will be considerate of the other’s schedule, re: “quiet hours.”

No having sex in your roommate’s bed. 🙂

SUGGESTIONS BY NELL

Don’t read your roommate’s diary. (I have had no less than three roomies read my diary. I should publish the thing!)

Don’t leave face mask remnants or removed fake nails lying on the end tables or TV stand.

Make sure your boyfriend doesn’t use my bath products or towels.

Compromise on TV viewing – especially if you’re not paying the bill. Don’t sigh when I watch an episode of “The Real World” or “The Daily Show” then grab the remote and force me to watch 3 hours of the French Open or a day of football.

If you say you’re going to do a chore—DO IT!!! Don’t wait for a week and then bitch about how much harder that chore has become. (ie – dishes, mowing the lawn, cleaning the bathroom.)

Don’t lend MY STUFF to YOUR friends without asking first.

Don’t slam doors when I’m in bed and expect me to be quiet as a mouse when you’re sleeping.

SUGGESTIONS BY D

When dirty dishes, including left-overs are left for more than 48 hrs, they are to be removed to the offending roommates room. If said dishes are returned to the kitchen without being washed, they may be returned to the offending roomates room, and turned upside down on the offending roommate’s bed! (We had to do the upside down thing with a roommate’s leftover french onion soup once. Gross!)