I want to scream. I’m talking the kind of scream where I throw myself on the ground like a 5-year-old having a tantrum, legs kicking wildly, arms flailing, red faced and near tears. THAT kind of scream.
So what could cause me, a normally even-tempered, happy-go-lucky gal to feel this way? Two words…a dishwasher. God help me (and everyone around me) if another of my appliances bites the dust. I’m at the point with this Bosch dishwasher that I’d throw it through a window if I could lift it. Which I can’t. So I won’t. Continue reading →
You might think this particular post is similar to my “Pet Peeve” posts. But my peeves are totally different than what I find to be ridiculous. Peeves annoy me; ridiculous things baffle and sometimes amuse me. So here are 10 things I can only describe as being simply…
If you don’t recognize that name or face, you don’t own a TV, read the newspaper, have a computer or listen to the radio. That means you’re most likely a hermit living in a cabin in the mountains of Minnesota. Does Minnesota have mountains? If so, that’s probably where you’re living – sort of like the Unabomber except with essentials: an espresso machine, See’s milk chocolate chews and Crest Extra Whitening Toothpaste. After all, you’re not a barbarian, just uninformed. Now back to Jeremy… Continue reading →
A while back I was blogging once a month about things I find ridiculous. And let me tell you, I find LOTS of things ridiculous. So I had to give the posts different titles. After all, I couldn’t exactly title them all, Don’t Be Ridiculous. Well, I guess I could. But I didn’t. (Click on the title to read that posting.)
Now don’t get me wrong. You may think I’m shamelessly promoting those past postings, urging you through not-so-subliminal suggestions to click away, thereby increasing my readership. How dare you think that! Would I do that to you? Well friends, as a matter of fact, yes.
So here’s the thing…as it turns out, there’s a lot I just don’t get.
And here I thought one of the perks of getting older is that wisdom piles on you like a football player under a group tackle. Seems you simply know stuff; it comes with the territory. But apparently that’s not how it works because I’m 62 and still often baffled.
For instance, I don’t get it when someone says, “I know that road like the back of my hand.“ Obviously that person is referring to a familiarity with the road. But I ask you, how well do you really know the back of your hand? I, for one, couldn’t pick mine out of a lineup.
Just looks like an old hand to me
Why are razor blades pricey? They’re like buying gold. What’s the justification? Is stainless steel in short supply? I imagine people frequently steal them. Here’s a thought: lower the price to let’s say, the cost of silver, and they might not get nabbed as often.
The most expensive razor: $200 with sapphire blades