Funniest Facebook Statuses: February 2014

Never fear, beloved readers! I am working on a full-length post.  It has blood in it.  And humps.  And brand new vocabulary words for all!

But until I finish, here are the funniest facebook statuses that have appeared in my newsfeed so far this month:

1. Am I the first person to have ever had to choose between Leslie Nielsen and James Joyce?
   
2. Stop reading ghastly undergraduate prose and feed meh.
   
3. Just told my hairdresser that I'm going for "Nashville, 1979" hair.
   
4. Thought I was having a dizzy spell. Turns out, the chair was tipping over.  Hate it when that happens.
   
5.  Taking a short break from my typical 15-18 hour workday to climb the roof of my house and do some primal screaming.
   
6.  I'm dark and twisty?
   
7.  So my tanning salon has a ghost. Carl has followed me. This is just unacceptable.
   
8. Going to go watch the weather and see what new thing we need to panic about tonight.
   
9. Seriously? Is it because the only place I'm willing to dance is at a post-apocalyptic wasteland?
   
10. It's amazing how well dogs understand Aristotle's rhetorical triangle
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    

Conversations with the Cats While I Suffer with This Cold

I probably haven't mentioned it, dearest readers, but my cats, Spike and Leia, are quite wonderful with my mother.  When she is sick or when her arthritis is particularly painful, they refuse to leave her side, nuzzling her and keeping her warm.

The reason I wish to point this out is that there are some people (you know who you are) who think that all cats are assholes all of the time.  It is not so!  They can be wonderful, empathetic creatures full of love.

Just not for me.

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6am:

Leia:  Get up and feed me.

Me:  Whut?  Who?  Dark out.  Sick.  Go away.

Leia:  Get up and feed me.

Me:  <cough wheeze cough> Go away.  Not morning yet.

Leia:  I will stick my butt in your face and smother you if you don't get up and feed me.

Me:  <ack!  choking!>  Go away!  Go away! How did you even get into this room?!

Leia:  You left the door ajar the last time you got up to drink the smelly green stuff.  Get up and feed me.  I am standing with all of my weight on this one spot...

Me:  <sneeze, fumble for kleenex, turn over and hide>  Sick.  Sleeping.  Go away.

Leia:  These are my claws.

Me:  <frantic coughing, falling out of bed>  I hate you.

Leia:  That's nice.  Here is my butt again.  Feed me.

Me:  Fine.

6:20am

Leia:  You did not give me fresh water.

Me:  Whut?  I filled your water bowl.  Go away.

Leia:  I want water dripping from the sink.  You should know that.  I will swat you in the face.  I will swat you again.  Yet again I will swat you.

Me:  Stop that!  Ack!  <sniffle, cough> We left the tap in the tub dripping to keep the pipes from freezing.  Go drink that!

Leia:  That water is for peasants.  Mine comes from the fancy sink.  Get up.  Get up, or I will swat you again.

Me:  Frak you, cat!  I am sick!  Go away.

Leia:  My nails make a lovely sound on these window blinds...

Me:  <get up, trip over sheets, stumble to bathroom>  Fine!  Here!  Here is water dripping from the fancy sink!

Leia:  See how much easier things are for both of us if you just do what you're told?

7:00am

Leia:  Why are you still in bed?  Get up and open the drapes.

Me:  Ferflenoff

Leia:  Get up and open the drapes.

Me:  Why are you back?  Go away.

Leia:  If you don't get up right now, I will sit on your head.

Me:  Argh!  <cough-cough-cough, gasp, wheeze> What the hell do you want now?!

Leia:  Get up and open the drapes.  There are squirrels outside that need to be intimidated.

Me:  <turn over> Leave the squirrels alone and go bother someone else.  I'm sick.

Leia:  I will bite your left earlobe.

Me:  Ow!  WTF!  I'm bleeding!

Leia:  Get out of that bed and open the drapes!

Me:  Fine!   I hate you!  Dammit!  Can't I sleep in just one damn day?!  <stomp around the house flinging open drapes>

Spike:  Hey!  Good morning everybody!  Look, squirrels!  Oh, birdies!  Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

Me:  Hi, Spike.  Yes, birdies.  Go stare at the birdies.  I'm sick.  Going back to...What?  What is this?!

Leia:  Thank you for making a nice warm spot.  Now, go away and let me get some sleep.

Real Conversation with Mom: There is Something Behind the Castle and I Have Jellylegs

Mom:  Alright, I need you to do something for me.  I've been waiting for two whole weeks while you were in Prague.  Okay?  Say you will do this for your mother?

Me: Ferbleargh.

Mom:  What was that?  Did you come home with a cold?!  Stop that!  Now this is serious and scary.

Me:  Schary?

Mom:  Oh, get a cough drop!  Scary!

Me:  Okay, what is it?

Mom:  The cats keep staring at the cat castle.

Me:  They are cats.

Mom:  I think there's something behind it.  A mouse or a snake.  Go look and find out.

Me:  No.

Mom:  Yes!  I am too scared to do it!  You go find out...look, Leia is staring at it right now!

Me:  The cats are psychopaths trying to bend us to their will.  I will not be moved.

Mom:  Look behind that castle right now!

Me:  No.  I am snuggling on the couch with my tea and two weeks of the Daily Show and this cold.  If there is a snake there, leave it alone.

Mom:  You are a terrible daughter.  Just because you have jellylegs, you think you can get away with this.

Me:  Once again, I have no idea what you're talking about.

Mom:  Jellylegs!  Jockylegs?  Whatever you got on the plane!  Go find out what is behind the castle.

Me:  No, I will not.  I have the jetlag and a cold and a lack of Jon Stewart.  Do it yourself. 

Mom:  I am going to call Alyce and Watt, and they will tell you that you are a bad daughter.

Me:  Fine. 

Mom:  I should have dropped you on your head harder when you were a baby.

From Our Home to Your Home (or The Carol of the Mop)

Happy Holidays, gentle readers!  Have you missed me?  Of course, you have!  And what have I been doing?  Preparing for the Yuletide visit of my dearest sister, my darned adorable niece, and my quite wonderful brother-in-law!  How am I preparing? Oh, I'm so glad you asked! I have been cleaning and cleaning and decorating and cleaning and cooking and cleaning and trimming and cleaning and buying more things with which to, well, clean.

Anyway, I have written a Christmas carol to inspire myself in this endless task, and I have been singing it at full voice at 2am while polishing...everything.  Enjoy!


Rockin' around the Christmas tree

In my jammies with a mop.

The cobwebs hung where you could see,

Every corner at the top.

Rockin' around the Christmas tree,

Let the dust rag rub and swing,

Later I'll have some deep red wine,

And I’ll do some vacuuming.

You will get a slightly queasy feeling as you near,

Nostrils flaring, "Oh, by golly,

Bleach and Lysol drown out holly!"

Rockin' around the Christmas tree,

Have a spotless holiday,

Everything scrubbed and organized,

For part of one whole day!

Brief Conversation with Mom: Principles of Organization

Mom:  "Which stocking is Isabella's?"

Me:  "The one in the middle."

Mom:  "I can't remember that.  We need to put names on them."

Me:  "No, we don't.  I alphabetized them."

Mom:  "No you did not.  You cannot alphabetize Christmas stockings!"

Me:  "Yes, you can.  They go from left to right:  Gretchen, Isabella, Peter."

Mom:  "That is the stupidest thing I ever heard.  Did you alphabetize all of the decorations?"

Me:  "Of course not.  Some are organized by irony."

Mom:  "By what?"

Me:  "Irony.  It's why the Christmas mice are sitting on the cats' medieval castle."

Castle Mice for Christmas

Mom:  "There is something wrong with you.  Shut up now and fetch me the egg nog!"

3 Shades of White

Hello, gentle readers!  I have returned, emerging from a long, dark grading period that has left me...well, kind of bouncy and overexcited, if you want to know the truth.  No, I have no idea what's wrong with me, but I'm all hyped up from my frenzy of essay reading and ready to take on the world...or at least put up the Christmas lights.

So this past weekend, I dug out the lights, plugged them in, cursed at the ones that had committed suicide in the basement over the summer, drove out to buy more, searched and searched and searched and finally found the extension cords and the timers and the little plastic thingies that I use to attach, well, things, and after three or four hours, this happened:

 

That's a snowflake in the window, not a flower.  Shut up.

Now, there I was, standing in my yard, looking at the results of all my labors, and do you know what I asked myself, beloved readers?  "Self," said I, "why are those lights blue?"  And as I pondered this question, I asked myself yet another:  "Self," persisted I, "why is that vertical strand kind of greenish?"  And, lo! my Self answered not, for I was stumped.

You see, on each of the boxes which contained these strands of lights was the word white.  I know, because I got out my flashlight, dug through the rubbermaid containers and checked.

No, I joke not.  I checked.

There was no green.  No blue.  No whitish.  No vaguely-pinkish-but-that-might-be-a-trick-of-the-camera.  No, my friends, on each and every box, spelled out quite clearly is the word white.  Now on one box, it is true, it says warm white.  Can you guess which strand had that rather comforting label?  Wrong!  It's the blue ones, which, I must tell you all, do not look even slightly warm to me.  In fact, that label seemed to be such an obvious mistake that I climbed upon the stepstool to touch the blue lights and see if by warm the manufacturer might be referring to temperature.

Yet again, I joke not.  Upon the stepstool I did climb. 

The blue lights remain cool.  They look cool, as blue so often does.  But do you know, precious ones, what those blue lights are not?  They are not white. 

Now, I know what you're thinking out there in cyberville.  You're thinking, "Oh you fool!  Have you never used LED lights before?  Did you not know that you have to buy exactly the same brand with the same label all at the same time to get matching lights, even if that means buying entirely new lights every single year?"  And to that I respond:  No I did not know that.  And I damn well wish I didn't know it now.  It has leeched much of the bounciness out of my spirit and thrown a whitish cloud of disappointment over the holiday season.

But after much shouting and whining and vaguely hostile cursing, I did eventually find a way to regain my jollity.

I bought a new shower curtain.

Real Conversations with Mom: Academic Rank

Mom:  "You know, all of my dead aunts and uncles would be really proud that you're a full professor now instead of a half professor."

Me:  "A half professor?  There's no such thing as a half professor."

Mom:  "What are they called, then?"

Me:  "Assistant, associate, then full."

Mom:  "Well, I just made some people half professors.  I like that better."

Me:  "I don't think you have the authority to do that."

Mom:  "I gave myself the authority.  And I'm going to tell all of the dead relatives."

Me:  "Wait.  What?"

Mom:  "I will tell them that you are not a half professor anymore, and they will be really relieved.  Being a half professor sucks."

Me:  "Seriously, Mom?  It's been a couple of years now since I...what am I saying?  I was never a damned half professor.  You are making my brain hurt."

Mom:  "Of course, I'll be really proud when you're a double professor.  That will be a great day."

Me:  "There is no such thing as a double professor, Mom."

Mom:  "Well, that is not right.  What is your new president's name?"

Me:  "I am not telling you.  Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Mom:  "Do not get smart with me!  You are not a double professor yet!  And if you are not careful, I will make you my half-daughter.  Then your sister will outrank you."

Me:  "I am not having this conversation."

Mom:  "Too late."