how new math ruined the grocery store

Come on, you know you’ve wondered about some of these.  I’m not losing sleep or anything, but I’ve run a few internal rants about some of these.  Check out Nick’s commentary on grocery stores:

Paper towels that advertise you are buying “Like 8” rolls when you are only purchasing 6 thick rolls –  It’s not “like 8” rolls.  It’s 6 rolls!  Recently, and I swear this is true, I bought a package of 6 paper towel rolls that are usually ”like 8,” but it had a large “BONUS ROLL” label on it because somehow it was “like 9”, when it was still only 6 rolls.  I hate this new math.  If I am going to pay for “Like 8” or “Like 9” paper towel rolls, I think I should be able to pay “Like full price.”

How are 6 paper towels like 9? Things that annoy me in grocery stores – nickclaussen.com

marijuana, white water rafting, & air bound bison

This season has been all about the learning for me.  Summer months filled with sights, sounds, and experiences to file away…bits of knowledge that may or may not be useful at some future point.  You know…stuff.

Like our recycling program.  They pick up our bins every other week, but it’s run by the same company that handles trash disposal.  Now I can’t help wondering if the whole thing is BS & everything ends up in the landfill after all.

And Roombas, those automated pods that toodle around vacuuming your floor?  They’re designed to pick up debris and programmed to change directions, but in a huge design oversight they don’t immediately come to a halt if they run over, say, cat feces.  (True story.)

Now, for your reading pleasure, some of the random bits and pieces I’ve tucked away this summer.

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the Groundhog Day roundabout of parenting

Groundhog Day in paradise. 

There should be a law against this.  It’s a crime against nature that a gorgeous sunset colors the water while BrightSide and I are trapped in a room, hammering out another peace accord between our kids. 

Without surveillance video, stories morph from one version to another like fog rolling across a river.  She did this.  But he did that.  No, I didn’t!  And she said this then did that.  No I didn’t!  I really didn’t!

Lawd.

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offensive t-shirt seams, temporary body art, and the pointless pursuit of de-sassing teens

Leave it to my youngest to bring up back to school shopping.  In July.  While on vacation.

I guess one could praise Bear for her foresight and responsibility.  Me?  I fell back on Advanced Parenting 301.  I said I didn’t want to think about it until August.

And dammit, here we are.

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school supply lists are here. joey’s got an Opinion.

And, in honor of the first day of August…

“On Sunday, we got one of those fabulous automated calls of which I’m so incredibly fond.  Sassy’s middle school principal had a seven-point audio presentation for us, and one of those seven points was the supply list.  The supply list.  I fuckin hate the supply list.”

This is way more than your typical school supply list rant.  It is a laugh out loud funny look at our new academic demands, including commentary on elementary socialism and quantity overkill.  Bwahahahaha!

Shady Ass School Supply Lists | joeyfullystated

a few phrases to tuck away in that back pocket

Sometimes parenting gems fall in my lap.  Well, life gems, really.  Those phrases that make it possible to roll on through the day without taking somebody’s head off.  Phrases like Try Harder.  They come from friends, memes (yes, seriously), articles, billboards – hell, I’m open to any and all input that gets me through. 

Today I thought I’d pass a couple more along.  Phrases that have literally saved my sanity time and again.  With practice, these gems can serve you well, too.

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if it takes a village, sometimes I live in Siberia

At the risk of seeming like I have a split personality, we’ve got some pretty decent kids.  I’ve written more than a few posts ranting about one thing or another so this might sound like a flip flop to you, but the reality is that we’ve invested a great amount of time, effort, and energy into making sure our kids don’t act like a**holes.  I’d say we’re basically winning on that one. 

It’s not like it’s been a cakewalk, though.  As a matter of fact, sometimes it feels like we’re swimming upstream in the quest to produce nonasshole upstanding citizens for society.  Someone cue the world’s tiniest violin: would someone remind me why on earth I have to fight people on this?

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more “aww, HELL no” items from an otherwise “I’ve got this” girl

**  Cockroaches.

Yes, I’m a grown a** woman who’s had to handle all sorts of gross things but y’all, please.  Cockroaches?  Just…no.  Their giant bodies (are they BORN enormous?) and creepy skittering movements.  Plus that disgusting *crunch* they make when someone (not me ‘cuz COCKROACHES) stomps them flat.  Let’s not even talk about the yucky mess of guts they leave behind.  Just…no.

**  Bloodsucking mosquitos.

Please don’t talk to me about the delicate balance of the ecosystem and such.  I’m sure there’s a parallel universe in which I care about the mosquito’s survival rate, but it’s not this one.  In this one mosquitos feast on our arms and legs as we watch ball games, have neighborhood cookouts, or enjoy the last bit of daylight when it’s not 98 degrees.  Even more fun?  Playing who’s-got-the-most-bites the morning after a family outing and running through half a tube of cortisone.

**  Cigarette smoke.

Indoors, outdoors, in a small room or a large courtyard.  Walking behind someone smoking, sitting near a smoker, getting closed into an elevator with the guy who just took his smoke break.  And don’t talk to me about vaping being the Great Solution.  Cigarette smoke.  Period.

**  Blisters.

Is there anything more wrenching than the betrayal of a pair of perfectly comfortable looking shoes?  Well, sure, of course there is, but still.  I know I’ll be doing a boatload of walking, I put on shoes to get me through the day, and by lunchtime I feel that telltale burn at my heel.  Raw blisters, blood blisters, blisters you can “fix” by draining them (yeah, yeah, I sterilize the needle first) – no matter the type, the hate remains the same.  Dammit.

**  Short people gaslighting.

Okay, for the record, I accept that “short people” comments regarding my particular kids will forthwith be in jest only.  There.  I admitted it.  They’re looking me in the eye.

But what isn’t in jest is the flash fire behind my eyes when those kids gaslight me and there’s a split second when I really can’t remember if I agreed that they could stay out an extra thirty minutes.  Half of me wants to scream omg I know what time you were supposed to be home while the other half is busy thinking hmmm…