Here’s why I miss having a dog. After watching this awesome clip – you’ll either want to adopt a dog, or a really egoless cop.
If more cops wrote us poems, we wouldn’t mind the ticket part so much.
I Surrender! My New Facebook Page is Born
I finally broke down and created a new Facebook page for my art dolls. I was hesitant to get involved with setting up yet another site, as it just seemed yet one more thing to have to manage… but Now I see the wisdom in it. People do spend a portion of their day or life skimming through Facebook to see what others are eating for lunch, and of course to judge others on their worth based on their vacation pics. Who am I to decline this now basic, fundamental institution?
https://www.facebook.com/SixLegDeer or by clicking ’like’ on the Facebook thing in my sidebar 
Six Leg Deer is the random name I gave my Etsy shop, and ((shrug)) it might as well suffice for a Facebook page, too. Though I am conflicted about that. Oh well. I’m also conflicted about which toilet paper brand to buy: Charmin or Northern? Scotts or the Dollar store brand – El Crappo?
SO if you’d like to get Facebook updates of my sometimes strange and creepy, or maybe creepy and cute Arty McFarty creations, just go to my new Facebook account and hit “Like” and you’re in!!
Thanks for your obedient cooperation.
Revenge for When Your Doctor Calls In Sick
After teeth started falling out of my face at dinner last month, I thought it prudent to have my eyes checked. You may wonder what getting your eyes checked has to do with loose fake teeth. Well maybe it was the 18 minutes of digging though my dinner plate before finally excavating my fallen crown, buried deep below the gravy pond atop the mashed potatoes. Either/or, thus began a whirlwind of appointments with my economical, insurance-approved Eye Guy at the
Happy Eyeblawl and Hibachi Buffet Crinic…
Who is, incildentrary, waiting for me show up for much valrued applointment rlight now. But I am busy writing this post and can not be sure when I will become available for my appointment. My scheduled appointment.
You see, there is an unwritten, universal understanding amongst we patients that Doctors are not allowed to get sick. Ever. Thusly they are never allowed to ‘call in’ sick. They do not get to have a ‘family emergency’. Their grandmothers never die. Such excuses are our domain. They are doctors, for godsakes, and as such are held to the reasonable expectation that their superior physiology excludes them from weakness or illness of any stripe. And should tragedy strike, well – buck up, Doc. You can handle it. We’re counting on you! This deal with our Doctors is guaranteed never to be broken.
Until yesterday, that is.
I got THE Guy who bucked the system. The whole system. An Optometrical Anarchist. Just my ruck.
I show up for my 4th Eye Guy appt/meal at my local Happy Eye & Lucky Hibachi Crinic & Grill place. I wash my eyeballs extra carefully for the exam. One shouldn’t like to be embarrassed with a dirty eyeball under close scrutiny by an Eye Ball Professional. (This concern is second only to getting in a car crash with dirty underwear)
There was a hellacious ice/rain/snow storm here on Wednesday. Naturally I wanted to stay inside and play with my new toys. It was the day after Christmas, after all, and it was a blustery freeze out there and the roads were icy. But I risked those sub-arctic conditions to keep my day-after-Christmas eye doctor appointment. I fight my way across the parking lot while gale force winds slap me back into my vehicle 5 or 6 times. My hair is blown straight upwards and freezes solid into a vertical condition. The cold draws the warm moisture out from my nose into a pair of fang-like snotsicles. But I persist.
Once inside (after the wind-possessed door also bitchslaps me in the face a few times) the cute technician with the fuscia pink hair looks up at me with her pretty 20/20 vision-corrected eyes and lets out a tiny gasp. “Oh, my…” she searches for her story… “I, uh…tried to contact you earlier today.”
“Really?” says I, “I didn’t hear my phone ring.” And I’m wondering if she tried to contact me telepathically or through the much quicker Snowman Express.
“Yes, but I couldn’t get in touch with you. You were the only one we were unable to contact.” She shuffles her scheduling papers about and in a flustered voice confesses, “The Doctor isn’t in. He had a…um…a uh. A Family Emergency.”
A Family Emergency? What kind of Family Emergency did my Eyeball Guy conveniently have – the day after Christmas – during an ice storm that I couldn’t have conjured up myself when calling in to cancel my appointment so I could stay home on my warm sofa playing with my new waffle iron instead of getting my eyes probed?
Did he get into a drunken brawl with that fat guy who crawled in through his chimney on Christmas Eve?
Did his wife stab him in the eye with the cheap zirconium ‘diamond’ ring he got her at Wal-Mart?
Did his daughter cook the new family kitten in her Easy Bake oven?
Did his son shoot himself in the eye with his new Acme Brand sub-assault rifle?
Did he get an especially cruel bout of really bad diarrhea, so bad that the hot melty chocolaty stuff ran down his leg and ruined his only work shoes?
Or maybe faulty Christmas Tree wiring burnt half his house to the ground? Couldn’t he have showered in the other half, and come to work anyways? I mean, we had an appointment. I showed up. Where were you?
REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD
I have no idea what that means. But I have always liked the idea of revenge. So, beginning at about midnight, I began calling the crinic. Each hour upon the hour, I began leaving excited messages until the doors opened at 8:00 a.m.
Midnight: Hello. It’s me. I’m just calling to check if the Doctor will be in tomorrow for our scheduled appointment at 4 O’clock. If not, could you have him drive by my place first and let me know why he can’t make it? You have my address.
1:00 AM : Hi. It’s me again. Say. Could you have the Doctor pick me up a pizza when he swings by? There’s a joint over in Philly I like…shouldn’t be more than like, an hour or so out of his way.
1:15 AM: I forgot to mention, I like Hawaiian Pizza. Get that.
1:17 AM: Hey, while he’s at it, have the Doctor pick me up some of them cheese-filled bread sticks too.
1:21 AM: Oops. I’m out of Tampons. Tell him to get me the Playtex ones.
1:23 AM: They’re the Pink ones.
1:27 AM: Oh. I almost forgot. Menopause. Cancel the Tampons and bring me some Zanax instead. He is a real doctor, ain’t he? I mean, he can write prescriptions, right?
1:42 AM: Hey, listen. I was thinking. If he can’t write prescriptions he can just grab some Zanax from his own medicine cabinet. His wife won’t mind. She’s probably just been using it to put his toddlers to sleep anyway.
1:59 AM: God. I’m bored.
2:03 AM: This is for the pretty technician with the pink hair. The one who forgot to call me yesterday to let me know the Doc had a “Family Emergency”. And then I got dressed and drove out into the middle of a dangerous blizzard to keep my eye appointment and my cars bald tires almost made me crash into a Mack truck… I might be a little late for my appointment later on today. Could you move some things around and keep things open for me to show up sometime between 4 and 8 PM? Thanks.
3:14 AM: Also, when he picks up my pizza, tell him to grab me a bottle of Root Beer, too. Thanks.
3:42 AM: I might be late for my Appointment. I can’t seem to get any sleep tonight. So just call me in the morning when you get these messages and we’ll see how I feel, and if I’m gonna make it in or whatever. It’s all up in the air at this point.
3:49 AM: But I still want my Hawaiian Pizza.
4:03 AM: ((sigh))
4:19 AM: Do you ever watch ‘It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’? It was really funny tonight. The Gang found a baby in a dumpster. Then they tried to get it into showbiz. But they only wanted Hispanic babies so they took it to a tanning salon and tried to get it baked for a few minutes. Ya know, to darken it. LOL. So funny. You should really check it out sometime.
4:28 AM: Say, I was wondering, have you heard from the Doctor yet? Is he going to be in on time? I mean, he’s not having another one of those unfortunate Family Emergencies again, is he? I’ll just wait on the line until you pick up. I don’t want to set my alarm if he’s not going to show.
8:00 AM: Hi. I’m still holding on the other line, since 4:30 this morning. Can you pick up that line and answer my question, please? I don’t want to ask it twice.
8:01 AM: Yeh, hi. Did you know you kept me on hold for 3 ½ hours? I was calling from my cell phone and that used up a lot of my minutes. I’m going to have to send you a bill for that.
8:34 AM: Is the Doctor in yet?….whaddya mean he’s not in ’till 1:00 today? Say, can I have his personal cell phone number? I’d like to keep calling him, every hour on the hour, until he shows up for work….whaddya mean I can’t get his private number? You guys got mine! C’mon, man – fair is fair!… Oh, I see. I see….well, I have his name on this Appointment card, I’ll just phone him at home. Thanks.
8:47 AM: Hello, Doctor? Sorry to have to call you at home. This is that one patient nobody remembered to call yesterday. Did you get my messages about the pizza? What time will you be swinging by? Whaddya mean you ‘don’t do that’? But why not?…..well, I tell ya what. I’ll check back in a few minutes, and see if you’ve changed your mind. In fact, I’ll just keep calling you, about every ten minutes. Until you change your mind. And remember, it’s Hawaiian Pizza from Reggies Pizza Box on 5th and Vine…yes, that is in Philadelphia. …OK then, I’ll check back in ten minutes and see how you’re coming along in your decision-making process.
9:00 AM: Hiya, Doc! It’s me again. Guess what? I found your home address in the phone book. How abouts I swing on by and spend some quality time with you and your family today? Listen, I am really good at helping people work through their problems. I specialize in “Emergencies”. My psychiatrist has told me this personally. He says, in a couple more years, I won’t even be experiencing homicidal tendencies any longer. So. See ya for lunch, eh?
* * * * *
And so you see, my friends, Doctors are, like us, mere mortals. And if they should let you down, you should reach out to them, show them you care, and maybe show up at their front door, possibly in military fatigues and wearing an aluminum foil safety helmet while reciting your Manifesto on the upcoming Medical Armageddon. This will remind them to treat you, and all patients, with a deep, abiding respect.
Happy New Year Everyone!
Categories: 4 LAFFS
Tags: blizzards, Doctors, Holiday humor, humor, medical malpractice, missed appointments, revenge, sarcasm, Satire, waiting rooms
10 Comments
Things That Fall Off at Dinner
Last night was our bi-weekly family dinner. That’s at least 2 nights per month when I get to return to my parents home and re-live most, if not all, of my childhood traumas. I still fear my father will enter the dining room, clear his throat loudly, then point and scream at me to “Go upstairs and clean your room, NOW! dammit! ” – then reach for his belt, begin unbuckling it without actually looking down, just for motivation, mind you… Or, we’ll learn for the first time, all over again, that little Fluffy was just hit by a car and won’t be coming home. Ever. Again. Or realizing on Christmas morning that out of the 57 carefully wrapped gifts under the tree, once again, my pile does not include a Shetland Pony.
I still ((( quiver ))) at the thought.
Our family dinners are quaint, charming little affairs. Done up in mid-century stylings a la Mad Men, my mother places out the good china each meal. China she acquired in the mid -1950s. Indeed, the entire table looks just like the photo, above. There is the lovely table setting, the flower arrangement made by my sister, a big bowl of green peas, a giant slab of dead beast on a platter with huge knives sticking out of it, and of course, butter. Plenty O’ Butter.
But just one thing is always missing…
See that big fat white soup tureen prominently featured in the center of the table? huh? DO ya? Well, when I was 12 years old, I made just such a big fat white soup tureen in ceramics class, painstakingly hand-painted to match the china set, with tiny pink roses around the rims, and even real silver trim, which required a third kiln firing. Is THAT soup tureen ever placed out on the family dinner table? Even on Thanks Giving? NO!
Ahh. Let the trauma begin… might as well start with a serving of some very blatant rejection. That sets the tone nicely.
As I cried silently to myself yet again last night that my highly underprized big fat white ceramic soup tureen was yet again left off the table, and tried to distract myself with some overzealous chewing of the honey glazed chicken on my plate… a big fat white chunk of ceramic suddenly fell onto my tongue with a metallic ‘chink” sound as it hit my other metal-filled teeth. I almost swallowed it, shocked as I was, then reached inside my mouth and pulled it out: yep – my crown had fallen off!
Bummer. What a way to ruin an otherwise perfectly heart-clogging meal of meat and butter!
Which got me to thinking: What other things might suddenly fall off of me during dinner? I mean, it’s not like I’m getting magically younger. And God has already pre-ordained this whole “falling apart at the seams” thing that goes with even the gentlest of aging properties.
A few things I would NOT like to fall off of me and into my plate during our next family dinner party:
My self-Esteem
My Will to Survive
My gorgeous full head of Hair
My Shirt
A Sudden Spate of Free-Range Boogers
A Cascade of Uncontrollable Drool
An Ear
The Truth
Some Things I WOULD like to see drop off:
My Shame
Wrinkles
Age Spots
Low Self-Esteem
Resentments
All Debts
15 lbs of Unwanted Fat
My burning, Scorching Awareness That, Yet Again, No Soup Tureen!!!
And so I ask… what would you like/not like to fall off of you during a quaint dinner party?
NOTE: Please consider voting for my lame caption in The Good Greatsbys Caption Contest!
Categories: 4 LAFFS
Tags: 1950's, Butter, Family Dinners, MadMen, Mid Century, Soup Terrines, Thanks Giving, The Buttertons
19 Comments
The Undecided Single Woman Vote on Election Day 2012
“DO I VOTE This way, or That way?”
There are ten million more woman voters than men this year – but the ”Undecided Single Female Vote” may well determine the outcome of todays Election. Being a single female who is on her way to the polls in a few minutes, and who is also still undecided, I thought I was probably maybe pretty much sorta qualified to speak for all undecided single woman voters across this great nation of ours. Oh, maybe not, I’m just not sure yet…
Will I vote for this guy ↓
Mitt Romneys Modern Military Model
Or will I vote for this guy ↓
It all comes down to the Unicorns.
If Mitt can promise me more unicorns in our Nations military, then I’m with him. You can never have too many unicorns in the service, I’ve always said. And as a responsible, single, Unicorn-loving American Woman, I think a politician ought to have a grasp on my unicorn needs. If Obama is the guy with the hidden unicorn army, then dude – I’m voting for you!
Why?
It’s obvious, isn’t it? If you’ve watched the presidential debates like any intelligent, god-fearing, well-informed single woman should have, you will have learned one very alarming fact: according to President Obama, we have fewer horses and bayonets in our military service today than we did in the year 1917. Though this was the most shocking news of the entire campaign, I do credit Mitt Romney with pushing Obama to reveal this truth to the American People under pressure during the third and final debate. By turning over every top-secret stone in Washington and ferreting out hidden facts from the Pentagon, Governor Romney has brought to our female attention that we are less safe today than we were in 1917, because we have fewer ships in the US Navy. And then the whole horrifying admission by the president that the horses have been fired from the navy, and the soldiers have thrown their bayonets overboard – this one fact has kept me up at nights ever since. Here are the exact quotes from that debate, the very exchange that will be weighing on my mind as I blow dry my hair, apply my makeup and pick out the right outfit to wear to the polls today. And the shoes – MY GOD! – what shoes do I wear???
Governor Romney: “Our Navy is smaller now than at anytime since 1917″.
President Obama: “I think Governor Romney hasn’t spent enough time looking at how our Military works. You mentioned the Navy and that we have fewer ships than in 1916. Well, Governor, we also have fewer horses and bayonets. (OMG!) Because the nature of our military has changed, we now have these things called aircraft carriers where planes land on them. They have these ships that go underwater, nuclear submarines.”
Holy be-jeezus! We have ships that go underwater, you say, Mister Obama? When the hell did THAT happen? How do ships go under water, anyway? That’s amazing! But, uuuhhh… Where do they keep the unicorns? Won’t they drown underwater? This single undecided woman voter has a lot to digest before she goes to the polls to vote in a few minutes.
For those of you who somehow missed it, here’s what I’m talking about:
Pegasus – the new Submarine-Aircraft Carrier Calvary Sea-Horse
Boy O Boy, am I upset about the shrinking size of our navy, the lack of horses and the shortage of bayonets… That Obama has somehow merged the two into one new, genetically engineered beast, the horse with the bayonet sticking out of his head (or Unicorns), offers me some comfort. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved unicorns. And also Pegasuses, the horses that fly →
I bet they could land on an aircraft carrier, no problemo! Also, those flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. I’d like to see us enlist more of those in our Air Force. Also, I like the tiny hats:
Well, whatever I decide by the time I get down to the polls, I know it will also be a vote of confidence in ALL women voters! I have dutifully done my homework, researched our candidates, delved into their hidden agendas and know that I, like all American Women Voters, will be making the responsible choice today. And I am proud of all of us for that opportunity. To show the world we can vote. And that WE CARE. We care about horses. The unicorns. And maybe those flying monkeys. ALL of them. May we all vote with our patriotic conscience today. I know I will.
