Category Archives: Blonde Moments

Oh F%#&. My Mom Got A Smart Phone.

Babs-smart-phone

You heard correctly, Chipmunks:

My mom, Babs, got her first smart phone!

Sticking with this would have been smart.

Sticking with this would have been smart.

The adventure started when my dad gave her a Radio Shack gift certificate for Christmas, intending to let me help Babs actually purchase the phone. Because he never really loved me.

Now, I love my iPhone, but wouldn’t exactly call myself a smart phone expert. My only solid advice was, “Get the gold one, it’s pretty.”

Wow, I really need to stop biting my nails.

Wow, I really need to stop biting my nails.

Two hours at Radio Shack and the death of my soul later, Babs got her first lesson from me:

“See this blue icon with the A? That’s your app store. Click it and type in Macy’s.”

Any good teacher knows you have to speak your student's language.

Any good teacher knows you have to speak your student’s language.

While she took to the shopping apps like nobody’s business, the past few weeks have looked like this:

IMG_5787

IMG_5791

IMG_5792

And my very favorite:

IMG_5793

…Wait for it…

IMG_5794

I [just called to say I] love you, Babs. Thanks for letting me use those screen shots for the world’s amusement.

How do you/your parents fare with technology? Any gadget gift fails?

P.S. – I suck royally for not responding to recent comments. Rest assured my absence has only made my heart grow fonder, and I totally want to have 10,000 of your babies.

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About these ads

I Am Thankful For %&$*#@!

Oy vey.

I love the holidays, but deciding to sell my house during them?

Oy. To the. Freaking. Vey.

“Oh, but I lost my job, I’ll have so much time to do everything myself!” -Me, 5 weeks ago, being a dumbass.

“Surely I can just sand that chipped paint on the bathroom ceiling!”

house-fail-ceiling

Oh… that’s not paint… it’s like, like… giant chunks of plaster…

house-fail-paint-chips

…and now it’s everywhere.

“Oh, I’ll just buy a new french door lock from Home Depot!”

house-fail-door-lock

“I AM NEVER F&#$%^^* coming off, so just go eat some more turkey and leave me alone.” -Door Lock

“It’s sooo cheap to get a truckload of mulch! Amazing!”

house-fail-mulch

5 -literally- full days of mulching and this eye sore still remains at the foot of the driveway.

“What a great opportunity to declutter!”

house-fail-piles

NO.

“Free boxes from someone on Craigslist! Yay!”

house-fail-boxes

Do you think I can get rid of these 57 extra boxes on Craigslist before the first open house?

“I’ll just spackle over those holes downstairs!”

house-fail-spackle

Spackle dust doesn’t actually stay in your lungs, does it?

“That swing set out back is so old, it’ll just come apart with a good shove!”

house-fail-swingset

3 weeks later.

And the latest and greatest, the pièce de résistance, my attempt to clean a carpet yesterday:

house-fail-carpet

I can’t even talk about this one.

What also happened yesterday? Babs (mom) sent a picture of my niece’s latest art project. She had to list her favorite relative:

Booya.

Booya. Right up there with chickin.

I guess I do have a lot to be thankful for.

2012-hats

Got any house selling tips? This is a first for me. …Clearly.

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Still Blonde Over Here.

I thought glasses made you look smarter...

I thought glasses made you look smarter…

I’ve never really understood dumb blonde jokes.

Hey! Why are you laughing?

Okay, fine. There was that time I played a trivia game with friends and thought Interpol was only the name of a band, not the International Criminal Police Organization.

Oh, Julie? You've heard of it?

Oh, Julie? You’ve heard of it?

And that time I got Joshua Jackson’s autograph and told him how to spell Julie.

And that time I brought a baby shower gift to a wedding shower.

Who wouldn't hire me?

Who wouldn’t hire me?

And maybe something similar happened this week.

You might recall I recently started a new position at my company (Big Pharma, Inc.), developing training. I’m pretty sure my dog, Uncle Jesse, got me the job – he was part of the Sudoku lesson I had to put together during the intense interview process.

My new group is creative, fun and hilarious. I’m finally among colleagues who appreciate my memes!

ennui-meme

This team of 13 celebrates everything. On my first day in the new office, it was No Diet Monday, and my manager brought cheesecake for breakfast. She decorated my new cubicle, too. “I think I’m gonna like it here,” I thought.

For the past two weeks, they’ve been trying to plan a surprise birthday party for two of the women in the group. A difficult task, since people work from home a lot.

The first Monday, I made cookies. The birthday girls didn’t show. This Monday, I made tortilla roll-ups, and one woman didn’t show.cubicle-welcome

“Well, as long as Laura comes in, we’ll still have the party,” everyone kept saying.

Later that morning, I popped my head next door to say hi to my cool, spirited cubicle neighbor. We’d only spoken a couple of times, but had bonded right away.

“Hi! Have you ever seen Finding Nemo?” she had blurted when she’d first shook my hand.

I had blinked back my surprise and laughed, dying to know where this conversation would go. She had had a point, eventually.

That Monday morning, I repeated the refrain of the day, “As long as Laura shows up, we’re still having the birthday party!”

She smiled and said, “Okay!” and we started talking about wine. Because of course.

At noon, we all hid in a nearby conference room and set up the food. In walked my cubicle neighbor, and everyone clapped and sang “Happy Birthday.”

I sang along merrily.

“Do you know what you said to me this morning?” the birthday girl asked loudly. I was sure she was going to regale the group with some amusing tidbit I’d dropped, letting all of my new coworkers see how charming and funny I could be, even unawares.

“No,” I replied, grinning.

“You said, ‘As long as Laura shows up, we’ll still have the party’! I thought you didn’t know who I was!”

Yes. That’s right. I told Laura we’d still have the party as long as Laura showed up. Then I sang “Happy Birthday” to Laura, forgetting I’d talked to Laura at all.

Sigh.

I distracted my colleagues with stories of Uncle Jesse and the beautiful chickens down the road. Later that day, Laura sent a thank you e-mail to everyone. I replied with this:

Dear Whoever You Are:

Chicken-foot-in-mouth

Sincerely,

Uncle Jesse’s caretaker

Any embarrassing work stories to share? Blonde moments?

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DOH!

I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Chipmunks.

I’m losing it. (Louise, expect a call any day now.)

Help me.

The proof is in this post, a.k.a., The Worst Post Ever.

Last night, I got a magical email from someone regarding evidence that a Mini Me exists in this otherwise colorless, desolate, mustache-deprived world.

For the first time since I saw this, I felt complete.

And yet.

Somehow.

I don’t know how it happened, except I think I do, and it involves vodka-soaked cherries.

I deleted the email! Or I must have, because it’s no where to be found. (Thank my lucky Chipmunks Peppermeister saw it before it disappeared, otherwise I would think I made the whole thing up.) I checked every folder, and my phone, then every folder again, then wept into my coffee, then wrote this post, to:

1) Ask the mother of the most awesome child in the universe if she can kindly resend the email to the biggest nincompoop on the planet, and,

But then there is the more fun.

2) Warn you. Everything they say about blondes is true, especially Clairol-enhanced blondes like me. Expect posts about purses that double as dog carriers and/or alien abductions any day now.

Don’t be a cotton-headed ninnymuggins like me and forget to enter the latest mustache glasses giveaway (deadline: Thursday, July 19, 2012, 12pm EST)!

P.S. – You guys are seriously like adorable, little, chubby-cheeked miracles. My comments and inbox are alight with your splendor. So much so that I think I must launch a weekly feature for the rest of the summer to prove it. Stay tuned. Heck, it can only go up from here.

Photo credit (chipmunk)

Does Anyone Know a Good Dog Therapist?

I really love fireworks, Chipmunks.

And I was convinced Uncle Jesse, my 2-year-old Australian Labradoodle, would too. After all, he’s not afraid of startling noises; his [human] father has perpetual allergy sneezes and coughs that could wake the dead.

So, brimming with an overconfidence usually reserved for Spring Breakers and Donald Trump’s hairstylist, I headed out on 4th of July with Uncle Jesse and Mr. Sneeze in tow.

Here’s what happened:

Have you ever scarred your own pets or children for life?

Signs You’re Losing It. Or Blonde.

Sigh. Just another guilty pleasure.

I’ve always been a blonde at heart, even after I had to start dying my hair to maintain the golden hue on the outside. I can’t tell left from right, Clueless is my favorite movie, and I truly believe stuffed animals can talk.

The thing is, up until this past week, I considered myself a very high-functioning blonde. I can walk and chew gum at the same time, and even figure out how much to tip my girl crush colorist.

This week, things took a nosedive.

Exhibit A-lzheimer’s

It started on Tuesday, when I wrote out a GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelet letter for The Mad Queen (I try to make every handwritten letter completely unique, because I can’t remember what I wrote the last time so you are not only getting the hottest fashion accessory, but a little piece of my soul. It’s the least I can do for my Chipmunks), and I felt a strong sense of déjà vu. My jokes about the meaning of life seemed so overdone. I shook off the feeling, and mailed out her letter with a few others.

I'm smiling because I'm confused.

When I got home from the post office, I had an email from The Mad Queen, thanking me for her brand new slap bracelets, which had just arrived. Because I’d already sent them. Four days earlier.

“You will never believe this…” began my immediate response. “Oh god. I should really stop drinking,” I concluded. (The Mad Queen told me to do nothing of the sort, solidifying her chipmunkitude.)

Exhibit B-E More Aware of Obvious Facts

On Wednesday, I  went shopping on my lunch break for a baby shower gift for a co-worker. Her surprise shower was at 2pm, so I set out for one of the many nearby malls (let’s hear it for Jersey!). I almost doubled-back to my desk to check the invite, to see if she was having a boy or a girl. “Screw it,” I decided, since I was only getting a gift card.

For a blonde, I had a surprising amount of difficulty navigating the mall. The mall is our motherland. I couldn’t find the store I was looking for, and wound up at Hallmark instead. They actually sold some baby clothes, including hilarious gender-neutral onesies, so I got one of those (for baby), and some equally funny chocolate bars (for mom). I scooped up a card and gift wrap, feeling smug that I wouldn’t be a part of the ‘group gift’ (er, because I missed the deadline to contribute).

I got back to work and showed our administrative assistant what I’d gotten. “I don’t really know [this person], so I didn’t get her anything,” was her response. We have a very large department, not all located in the same building (or state, for that matter), so this isn’t unusual to hear. I answered, “We went to boot camp together, and have gone to lunch, so I thought I should get her something. She’s really nice.”

I decided to check the online invite before I wrote out the card, so I could congratulate my colleague on her little ‘boy’ or ‘girl.’ I opened the invite and my jaw dropped:

No wonder she looks so thin.

Do you have any memorable blonde moments (or have you forgotten what they were?)?