15 Things I Know For Sure

15 Things I Know For Sure

One of my personality flaws is that I can’t make decisions.  Choosing a picture for our Christmas card is just as hard for me as buying a car.  

I can’t even decide on a bag of grapes because I doubt myself.  Green or purple?  Is that brown, damaged grape going to defile the other grapes it touches?  Should I buy the huge, toxic ones or the wimpy, organic ones?  The multitude of unknowns out there fuels my anxiety.  

Writing a list of absolutes in life makes the world a little less scary for me.  Here are some things I Know For Sure. 

If my snarky attitude takes me straight to the Devil, the PTA president will be driving me there.

You must seek cover when a redneck guy stands up and yells, “Hold my beer!  Ya'll watch this!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_Wx_Ue8dFE

Every December 1st, my husband says, “We need to send out the Christmas cards.”  Exactly who is “we”?  Hopefully the other half of “we” brings hot toddies.

When my husband and I travel, he plans the route and researches the weather.  Conversely I am only interested in staying at the hotel with free cookies.

One day I will change the sound of my car horn to a chainsaw, drive up close behind a biker in the middle of the road, and let ‘er rip on the egotistical jerkwad who thinks he owns any slice of the earth he occupies.  And my Anger Management class starts back up in the fall, since you ask.

One day when I’m buying a fifty-pound bag of Purina Dog Chow at Costco and someone in line asks me, “Oh, you have a dog?”  I’m going to say, “Nope, I’m doing the Dog Chow diet again.  Last time I lost 40 lbs, but wound up in the hospital.”  When they ask, “What happened?” I’ll say, “I stepped into the street to sniff a labrador’s rear, and I got hit by a car.”

Cats just do not care.

When threatening your teenager, whispering in her ear is scarier than yelling.

If you use “template” in any conversation, you automatically sound smarter.

When snow skiing, don’t trust your husband when he says, “Let’s take this shortcut.” 

http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=extreme%2Bsnow%2Bskiing&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=w2Y00AcKuURI-M&tbnid=znrjfTsOkeqG4M:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=h

I can’t browse Pinterest, play Farmville, or stalk Chaz Bono online for JUST ten minutes.

http://celebrities.ninemsn.com.au/?blogentryid=635568&showcomments=true

If you don’t challenge yourself, you’ll never realize what you can become.  I know that’s true because I read it on a sign at the dry cleaners.

There is no imaginable reason for me to use calculus in my daily life.  Schools are taking away dodgeball on playgrounds because it makes the fat kids feel bad.  What about me?  Why don’t they take away math?  That would make me feel better.

When you return a swimsuit at Macy’s, the sales clerk wonders if you tried it on with no underwear. 

And, the number one Absolute of the Universe . . . the fifty-percent-off sale ended yesterday.

I hope meditating on these truths will ease the uncertainties in my readers’ lives.  

Just knowing that I have a “template” for my Christmas cards next year eases my stress—giving me more time to maintain my blog, “Chaz Bono: A Great Actor Who Just Needs More Parts.”

How Mom's Indecision Could Change History

“I Like a Good Rant” Wednesday

How Mom’s Indecision Could Change History

Since I'm frazzled, making decisions, even small ones, paralyzes me.  However, I’m quite talented at making decisions for friends.  

At the mall a friend asked me which running shoes she should buy—the cool, expensive ones, or the cheaper, boring ones with more reflective areas because she runs on busy streets at night.  

Without a hitch between bites of my giant pretzel, I said, “Hon, be safe. Get the cute ones.”

Let’s face it, tens of people look up to me, so making decisions regarding myself is complicated and the stakes are high.  

Let’s say I’m buying a dress for a charity event. My choices are:  a dress I LOVE in a department store or one I don’t love in a small boutique.  No one else at the event will likely be wearing the boutique dress.  But I might see four sluts women wearing my department store dress, and all those Real (Snooty) Housewives of the Heart Gala will think I shop at the “cheap clothes for cheap girls” store.  

thefamilyvoyage.blogspot.com

Deciding on paper plates is also a serious issue.  Dixie plates are more expensive than the store brand but Dixie has a few more in it.  If I can’t figure out the best deal, I become panicky with a prickly sensation, and my cart heads to the wine aisle.  Although the prickly sensation could be caused by squatting down to check prices in sweatpants covering legs that haven’t been shaved since Labor Day.  

Nowadays grocery stores label shelves with the cost per paper plate.  That’s a little condescending.  

        Do I look like I can’t figure it out on my own?  Well, I can’t because I have normal girl genes, and that type of calculus is hard for me, especially word problems.  But they shouldn't automatically assume that just because I walk around the grocery store aimlessly in pink pajama pants that I don’t know the paranormal algorithm of explicit percentages like boy people.  

        My left brain (along with the “fun” part, according to my kids) was destroyed by watching ’70’s TV shows and stressing about stuff like whether Carol Brady would discover that Marsha and Jan were hiding reefer in their room.

Imbringingbloggingback.blogspot.com

Here’s how my brain works:

Me:  These store brand paper plates are five cents cheaper.

Angst:  How do you know they’re cheaper? Did you do the math?

Me:  Shut up.

Angst:  Last time that brand folded holding Coach Hubby’s spaghetti and meat balls.

Me:  Alright, but if I get the name brand, I’m gonna put the Dial soap back and get the Bored Simple brand.

Angst:  You need to put that cookie dough back while you’re at it.

Me:  No!  I never spend money on myself!

Angst: (Chardonnay coming out nose) Do you know how much wine you drink?

What’s with the explosion of store brands, anyway?  I mean, pretty soon stores will only sell their Bored Simple brand, (ahem, Kroger) and I’ll have no choices, and Communism will rule pockets of suburbia and will trickle up to Chicago and then to the whole Obamanation.  And then nobody will talk American anymore. There IS a lot at stake. 

Forget it.  I’m buying the “green” paper plates.  Faced with difficult choices, vacillating moms like me will go “green,” and eventually the whole country will eat nothing but granola and tofu and wear long denim skirts.  At least I’ll fit in with my hairy legs.