Theme Thursday: Pet Peeves

Theme Thursday

Jenn at Something Clever 2.0 is the mastermind behind Theme Thursday, a weekly “event” that a few very awesome and unique bloggers partake.  Every week I manage to come up with a post, and every week people actually read it.  This is is amazing to me, because I know that some of my posts for this have been pretty bad.  This week’s theme is “Pet Peeves”.

(Theme Thursday is not filmed before a live studio audience.)

The term “pet peeve” is a strange sounding term.  When I was younger I used to think it had something to do with pets peeing on things.  I know what a pet peeve is nowadays, but it didn’t stop me from looking up the definition of the word online.  Pet Peeve:  An opportunity for complaint that is seldom missed; a particular and often continual annoyance; an irritating experience by others in which you cannot control.

Anyone remember this episode of friends?

Anyone remember this episode of Friends?

The majority of my pet peeves are right in front of me every single time I go online!

I think the above picture pretty much sums it up.  Think about your words when you use them!  Contractions are contractions for a reason-they are short for something!

Please us spellcheck and spell it right!  I get so annoyed when I look at job listings with serious spelling errors.  I always wonder how those people are employed full time and I’m not!  I must admit I was guilty of a serious spelling faux pas that I did not once, not twice, but MANY times.  My mother pointed it out to me that deodorant was not spelled deoderant as I was spelling it.  It “deodorizes”, hence the “o” instead of an “e” in the middle there…

If done correctly it saves lives.  Please refer to the following picture:


People who can’t stop doing whatever it is that they are doing on their phones.
I’m talking about the people who constantly have their face buried in their phone.  They must always be texting, checking their Facebook status, instant messaging, or whatever the heck they are doing on there.  I’m not referring to people who need to be on the phone for their job, or people who blog who might be checking their stats or replying to comments. I’m referring to people I have worked with who can’t even put the phone down to DO THEIR JOB!  People who can’t drive without texting!  People who can’t walk down a street without texting!

Before cell phones...

Before cell phones…

Recently Evil Genius and I were driving through town.  We saw two girls walking down the street, both busily texting on their phones.  Without missing a beat, he turned to me and said “You suppose they’re texting each other?” I myself have a smartphone, and I have some things that I check occasionally on it (because I am a wife and a mom, after all), but I can live without it.  As a matter of fact, it doesn’t stay on long enough for me to do anything anyway!

There are probably more things, but these are the things that bother me the most.  What bothers the snot out of you?

Please take the time to read some of the other amazing and probably much better posts than mine over at Jenn’s place, aka Something Clever 2.0.  Want to participate?  It’s not hard at all.  Refer to the Theme Thursday page for more information, and tell Jenn I sent you!

I Need An Adult!

I’ve decided that the older people in our house can no longer refer to ourselves as “Adults” or “Grown-ups”. Because we’re just not.

Witness the texting conversation between me and my husband this past week:

Me:  Do you want me to take that movie back that you didn’t get to watch?

(It was some foreign film. We also got Hot Rod.  Worth every penny of that 50 cents we spent).

EG:  Keep it.  We’ve already paid the late fee anyway.  Look for the ones we talked about too.  I can’t remember one of the names.

Me:  Ok.  Drillbot Taylor

EG:  I think it was DrillbIT. Love You.

Me:  Ha.  Oops.  Love u2.  Will look for Drillbut Taylor.

EG:  Hehehe… you said butt.  Get Trollbut Tailor.

Me:  I was thinking Drillbat Taylor.  It’s the Halloween Edition.

EG:  How about Vulcan?  Drl’bt T’Lor

Me:  Bwa ha ha!  That’s all I got.

After all that, they didn’t even have the movie.  People didn’t return the copies.  It’s the same with “The Big Lebowski”.  We’ve never seen it, but have been told we have to.  And by the way, all of this texting was all done without me driving.  I actually text in the parking lot.  Go me!

Years ago, my sister in law (who has many children) was talking to my husband and marveled that she had always wondered how people without children entertain themselves, and after listening to the two of us she now knew.  HA HA-we have children now but how we entertain ourselves has not changed much.  We still can entertain each other pretty well.  We just sleep less.

This picture simply supports my hypothesis: We cannot be categorized as adults. By the way, this is my studly yet wounded husband drinking “Skinny Girl” Margarita Mix.

There’s A Toe In My Kitchen

“It’s just a flesh wound!” I’m sure I’ll hear this quote sooner or later…

All right, there is not actually a toe in my kitchen.  Or around my kitchen.  Or even in  my house.  But there could have been.  Sort of.  There were toes involved.  Got your attention, didn’t it?

Today was my job interview.  My Mom decided to come up and watch the kids so my husband didn’t have to leave work early.  The kids were thrilled, I was ecstatic-we don’t exactly get visitors or family up very often.

As I was getting ready to make lunch, I receive a text from my husband, asking if my mom was indeed coming.  I texted back and said yes.

“I’m headed to the hospital.  Dropped metal on my foot.  Probably stitches.”

Huh?  Oh, he’s pulling my leg.  He has to be joking.  Is he kidding?

I text back, “Seriously?”  I wait for him to text me saying something like it almost happened or it’s a serious exaggeration.

No.  Two minutes later he texts back, “Seriously.”

I SERIOUSLY start freaking out-OMG!  Visions of staggeringly huge medical bills, thinking that this is the straw to break the camel’s back…. then I remember that it happened at work.  Oh, worker’s comp?  Please?  Remember, I have an anxiety disorder and ADD-which means I have really random thoughts when I worry excessively.

The next text I receive:  “I’ll be fine, want pictures?”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!  Ew!”  I’m a bit squeamish.  This is ironic, considering I taught first aid classes as my job.  Ask me sometime what the rules of thumb for needing stitches are.

“They said they can take video if that is better,” was his reply.

“No!  Brat!”

A few minutes later:  “I got pictures, for the kids.”  That’s ok, because I certainly won’t be looking at them.

So later on, I’m getting ready for my interview and realize that I haven’t heard anything for quite awhile.  So I texted him to ask what was going on.  “Do you get to come home early?  Did they have to cut your boot off? Did you get a sucker?”

My phone rings, it’s my husband. “Hi!  Just wanted you to know that I’m on my way home.  They had to amputate my toe because there was too much nerve damage.”

“WHAAAAT?  Which toe?” I shriek into the phone.

“The little one.  On my right foot.”

At this point I am just stunned.  Finally he lets me off the hook.  “NO they didn’t amputate.  But I DID get stitches.”

As it turns out, he was minding his own business and was attacked by a piece of metal that lunged at him and went through his boot, just above the steel toe.  He’s ok and they took very good care of him.  Eight stitches later, they sent him home.  Apparently his pain tolerance is quite amazing.  Who’d have thought that engineering was dangerous business?

The whole time this was going on, my panicked mind flashed to the episode of Friends in which a teenage Monica tries to seduce Chandler.  She accidentally severs one of his toes when she drops a knife and it goes right through his shoe.  Thinking quickly, she brings what she thinks is the toe to the emergency room so they can reattach it.  As it turns out, she didn’t grab the toe, she grabbed a very small piece of  carrot.

Her mother looks almost ill, “Oh my God!  There’s a toe in my kitchen.”

And there it goes…the knife that cuts off Chandler’s toe.

I DID get to go to my interview.  That’s stuff for another day.