just a little rant

Yes, I'm giving advanced warning: This is a rant. But a rant with a happy ending. Well, maybe not happy, but at least there is a conclusion. I try hard not to rant through this medium, because this is a semi-anonymous blog and my friends and family read this. Even RL reads this from time to time. So I try to remain accountable for what I say -- you know, protect the innocent and all that. And now you've had fair warning and sufficient time to click over to some other blog to read a light-hearted account of ... whatever.

Some of you know I had surgery this week. A small procedure. Not a big deal. (I'm working on a post about that, by the way.) And though I am feeling great and only cringe slightly when I make sudden movements, the recovery process has been less than wonderful. There are certain things I expected during this recovery period that didn't happen and I feel let down. To be specific, I expected my family to do things for me that just didn't happen.

The surgery was Tuesday afternoon, so in the getting-my-house-in-order phase I did what I could to prepare for the days I wouldn't be capable of doing much of anything. Honestly, there were a lot more things I could've done, but just getting the laundry caught up and the dishes washed made me feel as though I were on top of things around here.

But here it is Friday, and as I walked into the kitchen this morning there was a foul (probably fowl) smell coming from the overflowing kitchen trash. Seriously! Why hasn't anyone taken it out? What are they waiting for? And as I went about making the morning coffee, stacking dishes and clearing a space for the coffee pot, I realized dirty dishes had been piling up since Tuesday morning.

I got mad. Infuriated. What are these people thinking?! If they had just had surgery or were sick or whatever and couldn't do things they normally do, I would pick up the slack. I would do whatever was necessary to make them feel comfortable and make sure they felt I was taking care of them. I would make sure they knew they didn't have to do anything and the only thing they had to be concerned with was feeling better.

Moments later, feeling all good about myself and how wonderful I would be as their care-giver, I realized I had fallen into an old habit: expecting people to be someone other than themselves. See, the more I thought about what I would do the more infuriated I became that they aren't like me. Not that I'm better than them, but that's what I was thinking. But I'm not better; I'm just different. I look at things differently. I do things differently. I behave differently. I am me and they are them (or something like that). And when I expect people to be themselves I won't be disappointed.

So now I'm going to clean the kitchen and take out the trash and feel good about having the ability and energy to accomplish something today . . . because that's how I am. :)

anonymous commenter

I've been blogging for almost five years now and one thing that I find very interesting are the anonymous comments. Why are they anonymous? Who are they, really? Why bother leaving a comment if they're not even going to leave their name?? And why would I even care what they have to say if I don't know who they are?

Take this one for instance:

Anonymous said...

Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!

Nice. But since I don't know them, why do I care what they think of my blog?

Then there are the slightly creepy ones like this:

Anonymous said...

You aren't aware that I also read your blog and know where you live? And that "RL" is out of town? (As though "RL" actually exists...)

Now, granted, it's probably one of my regular readers who is just trying to be funny (and I have my suspicions as to who it really is). But the first time I read it I was a little freaked.

Then there are just the completely bizarre anonymous comments:

Anonymous said...

consequently aliae parameters operate lalfkk kcaaen feeds poised anderson blunt andheri lolikneri havaqatsu

What kind of drugs are these people taking . . . and how can I get some?

This next comment was in response to my Chairman of the Bored post:

Anonymous said...

I'm surprised at the fact that the few comments are all on the T-shirt; none on the title.
And, googling the title would have thrown up lyrics by others on the same theme (though perhaps not titled so). Or even a joke site: ChairmanOfTheBored.co.UK.
But it actually goes way back - to Charlie Chaplin, in his filming days. In one of his shorts, he's a janitor, cleaning the Board room before a meeting. He plunks himself in the Chairman's seat and imitates, as only Charlie can, The Chairman of the Bored.
Hope you get a chance one day to see that!

A very nice comment, huh? A like it. Does this person have their own blog, because I'd like to see it. Sounds like an interesting person. But, no. No name, no link, no nothing.

Then there's this one in response to a Fashion Police post:

Anonymous said...

What's wrong? She looks fantastic! And no, I'm not fat, so I'm not just saying it to pacify her. In fact I fall under the size zero category.
sh

Um, ok. She falls under the size zero category . . . if I was under a size zero I'd be posting my name, my picture, my phone number. Ok. Maybe not my phone number, but you know what I mean. Why is her identity a secret if she's willing to announce her dress size??

And then there's this one from one of my latest posts:

オテモヤン said...

オナニー
逆援助
フェラチオ
ソープ
逆援助
出張ホスト
手コキ
おっぱい
フェラチオ
中出し
セックス
デリヘル
包茎
逆援
性欲

OMG!! Somebody please translate this! What the crap?

So, while I appreciate all comments -- Really, I do. Especially now that there are so few commenting these days. -- Please at least leave a first name. Gaw!!

grocery pick up

Have I mentioned I hate shopping? Really. The only time it's enjoyable is when I'm alone -- except when I'm with my daughter. And even then I can only stand a couple of hours. After that I turn into a . . . Well, anyway, I particularly hate grocery shopping. But something happened a few weeks ago that, at least, made it a bit more interesting.

It was just before the last big snow storm we were supposed to have. RL was out of town (big surprise) and Brandi's rarely at home , so I just needed a few things to get me through the weekend. You know, canned soup, bread, milk, lots of munchies. Oh, and coffee! Had to get coffee.

Everyone in town was expecting the worst, so the store was hit hard. Nearly all the produce was gone; there weren't any canned tomatoes; and the only canned soup that was left was the low sodium healthy stuff, which was alright, because that's what I wanted anyway.

So, I'm walking down the canned soup aisle, trying to decide which tasty low sodium healthy soups I wanted and this guy wheels his cart up beside mine and says, "Looks like they got hit pretty hard." Well, yeah, it was kind of a shock to see the shelves mostly bare. And the fact that some stranger was mentioning it to me didn't seem that unusual, because people tend to get a little friendlier in times of pending disaster. (Ok, it wasn't that bad, but you know what I mean.)

I said something quite clever like, "Yeah, not much left, huh?" Because, you know, I'm so clever like that. We continued this clever conversation for about another excruciating 30 seconds and then I went on with my picking and choosing. Then I headed to the coffee aisle. (CanNOT forget the coffee!!)

Seems this guy that was worried about the lack of can goods remaining in the store also needed coffee. That or he was following me. I didn't really want to think about that and tried not to let it show that I was a little unnerved that he was, once again, on the same aisle with me. I picked up the two pound canister of Folgers 1/2 Caff (because I'm cutting down on caffeine) and placed it in my cart. The guy was standing right next to me with his cart headed in the opposite direction and was talking about I don't know what. All I'm thinking about is how do I get away from him without just coming right out and saying, "Get the hell away from me, you freak!"

Turns out I have this nervous little habit that seemed to really turn him off. Before I knew what was happening he was gone. I just stood there thinking, "Dang! What did I say?" And then I realized I was spinning my wedding ring around my finger.

Ha! I'll have to remember that!!

emergency supplies

One of the guys at work was so concerned about me being alone during this winter storm, he made sure I had emergency supplies. Um . . . yeah . . . really concerned. :)

i have a stalker

Today there are more and more creepy people with unhealthy fascinations with others. Usually we hear about celebrities who are stalked by fanatics. But, let me tell you, celebrities aren't the only victims.

Now first, I need to clarify that I'm not being stalked by a person who scares me. I'm merely being stalked by a person who is obsessed with when I get to work, what I'm doing, and when I leave. No, he's not my boss. Just a co-worker. No, what I do has no bearing on him whatsoever. So why is he so obsessed? Good question.

For the past couple of years this person has ranted on and on to other co-workers about my tardiness or if I leave early. No, he's never said anything to me, but why should he? He's not my boss. My boss knows when I'm going to be late and why. My boss knows if I have to leave early. My boss is the only person that needs to know.

The great thing about the guys I work with, though, is that they all know how absurd this man's obsessions are. He isn't doing or saying anything that hurts me, but rather it just makes him look like a fool to everyone else.

and the winner is . . .

Silent Male answered all eight questions correctly in the "Could you be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader" quiz. Here are the answers:

1. Cowboys Stadium, Arlington, TX (against Philedelphia). Home Game.

2. San Antonio, TX (Alamodome)

3. Tom Laundry

4. A. 1960

5. 15

6. Roger Goodell

7. A - 10

8. Iran (also, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Jordan, Turkey)

And here's what he's won. . .
It would've been a lot more fun to put his face in there since he earned the title of Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, but he's one of those pesky anonymous bloggers with no picture. Congratulations, Silent Male, and thanks to you and Trueself for playing along.

now I remember . . .

Ok, I didn't *just* remember, but I do finally have some time to talk about what I wanted to talk about last time when I kind of got sidetracked and went on and on about nothing. (Ha! That was a mouthful!!)

So, have you seen the latest kiddy movie "UP?" It is so fantastic and not at all just a kiddy movie and -- this is the best part -- there are no *politics* in the whole movie. Really. I'm not kidding. It was fantastic and, if you haven't already, you need to go see it.

Although, I will say that if you don't really care for good wholesome movies that have a moral to the story AND you are not particularly in the mood for having *anything* to do with loving relationships, then I would not recommend this movie. You would probably be better off going to see something with a lot of yelling and guns and blood.

Ok, now that I've got it set up for you, here's what I *really* wanted to talk about: We were sitting in the theartre (RL, my daughter, and I), watching this kid's movie on a Sunday afternoon, and there was a younger couple sitting in front of us. Not *very* young. Probably in their late twenties, early thirties. Within the first FIFTEEN minutes, these two were all over each other. At one point, the guy had his head in her lap and her skirt was pulled up!!

Now, I'm all for some hot steamy lovin, but c'mon! At the kids movie? In the middle of the theatre? At least go sit on the back row. At least pick a movie where there's not going to be kids *everywhere* around you. That's just too perverted!!

what's next

Have you noticed that churches have started popping up in shopping centers all over the place? And, I have to admit, when I see one of those I think it's really strange and wonder what kind of people go to a church located in a shopping center. I wonder what kind of things these people believe. What kind of things do these people teach about God and the Bible?

And, just so you know, yes, I am one of "those" people. The church I attend is in a shopping center of sorts. Not on the front side where you can see it from the street. No, we're more descreet than that. We're around in the middle of the complex. Even better, there's not even a sign announcing we're a church.

But the weirdest thing yet is that last week we were discussing evolution. In church. And there were visitors there. OMG!! What will they think??

are you kidding me?

After a couple of weeks of not blogging I start feeling guilty. I feel as though I've let my readers down (Speaking of readers, I was amazed over the past couple of weeks how many people I know who actually read my blog. That's so cool.) and I try to come up with something really good to blog about . . . Just a second . . . I forgot what I was going to write about. Crap! What was it? I just looked back up there to the title of this post and still can't remember what I was considering was such a great blog idea that I started typing and then distracted myself with my own ego.

Ok, well anyway, it's been a hectic couple of weeks: (1) Trying to plan a sort of family reunion. (2) RL's started working out of town four days a week and is only home for 3-day weekends, which he'll be spending on work around the house and yard and occasionally on the cars. (3) My mind seems to have come up missing. (That's kind of a stupid figure of speech, don't you think? "Come up missing." Wouldn't it make more sense to say "gone out missing?" When something "comes up" it's usually right there. How could it be missing?) So there's a lot that's been going on and I catch myself thinking about when things will quiet down and I can start classes again.

I think I really just might be going crazy.

BTW, this isn't really at all what I wanted to blog, but never could remember what it was. :-S

cha cha cha

Today our Red Hats got together to learn some line dancing . . . I didn't learn much. :0)

half more

Today is April 28th. Each year on April 28th something extraordinary happens. April 28th is my half birthday. What? What's a half birthday? Oh come on, you know! Your Half Birthday. The day you turn whatever years old and a half.

Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait for your birthday, Remember how you would be so excited about getting to the next year you'd say, "I'm 4 and a half!" Or, "I'm 10 and a half." It gave us something to look forward to. It gave us something to feel proud about. And then when it was our real birthday, we felt as though we had really accomplished something.

I want to feel young. I want to have something to look forward to. So, today I'm celebrating my half birthday. I figure it's all about perspective. Why dread turning another year older? Why burden myself with feelings of doom and gloom when I can celebrate another year? And I'm half way there! WooHoo!!

Cheers!!

the "new" kind of man

From time to time I've shared some things with my loyal following (all 12 of you) from our current culture. (Follow the label below to read other posts on culture.) Recently I came across a term I hadn't heard before (but has been around for at least five years) and, of course, I had to research it.

The term? Retrosexual. Now, at first, I thought it had to do with old-fashioned (not to be confused with boring) sex between a man and a woman. Turns out it is a term that refers to one who is a "real man" and proud of it. From the information I could find, the following is the Retrosexual Manifesto by Grau Magus (who apparently had a blog at one time called "Frizzen Sparks," but I was unable to find it.).

A Retrosexual man:

- no matter what the woman insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.

- opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that only loosely fit that term, because they are biologically female.

- DEALS with IT. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.

- only eats red meat; he often kills it himself.

- doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still reading, learning, growing and can manage a drink now and again, I salute you. If you are still having sex with your wife, you are a legend.

- does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly two endcaps if you include shaving goods.)

- does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic or Abercrombie when he's 30 years old.

- should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be. This falls under the "Dealing with IT" portion of The Code.

- watches no TV show with "Queer" or "Queen" in the title.

- does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national TV.

- should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women. Some is inevitable, but major reinvention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a frou-frou, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.

- is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak tree chipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city, favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT, and, when you screwed up, he DEALT with you.

- will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.

- knows how to tie a Windsor or half Windsor knot when wearing a tie -- and ONLY a Windsor style knot.

- should have at least one good wound that he can brag about.

- knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a nail, or drill a hole straight, practice in secret until you can -- or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.

- knows that owning a gun is not a sign that you are riddled with fear. Guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus, it's just plain fun to fire one off in the direction of those people or things that just need a little "wakin' up."

- Crying: There are very few reasons that a Retrosexual may cry, and none of them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a good bird dog, loss of a major body part, or loss of major body part on your Ford truck or Jeep.

- When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a pregnant woman, heck, any woman gets on, that Retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men still in their seats with a disgusted "you low-life" look on his face.

- A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled Banner.

- will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married, engaged or in a serious healthy relationship, e.g., hunting, fishing, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance, or occasional drink.

- knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.

- can drive in snow (heck, a blizzard) without sliding all over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering his vehicle in a snow bank.

- can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants. Wherever it lands is where he darned well wanted it to land. Except on his truck --that would happen only because of a "force of nature," and then the retrosexual man's options are to Cry, or to DEAL WITH IT, or do both.

- will give up his seat on a bus to not only any woman but any elderly person or person in military dress (except 2nd Lt's). NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for serving their country.

- doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other person deceived him.

- doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT!

let me go crazy on you

I wrote a while back about taking vitamins to deter bouts of depression. But I have to confess, I haven't been very good about taking them for several months. It's not that I forgot, I just haven't been taking them. And since I'm not merely breathing these days, I just haven't felt the need. Top that with the fact that RL isn't working out of town any longer, my life and emotional state turned all butterflies and rainbows.

"Are you taking your crazy pills?" I reminded my dear husband they are *not* crazy pills; they're just vitamins. But he insists I don't act as crazy when I'm taking them. Actually, his exact word for it was "b!tchy." I'm more "agreeable" when I take my "crazy" pills. But it's kind of funny, don't you think, that my "craziness" is more noticeable when he's misbehaving? Not badly misbehaving, just being a little annoying.

The truth is, these past few months we've been slowly entering a new phase in our marriage. The long awaited Empty Nest. For most married couples I imagine this is a normal adjustment. But most married couples have, at some point previously, been married without kids at home. RL and I, on the otherhand, have never been married without children. Jeremy was seven when we got married and shortly thereafter (about seven months later) Brandi was born. There's never been "just us."

So he's always home (because he doesn't go out of town) and we're always home alone (because there are no kids). But sometimes I think we're getting on each other's nerves and driving each other crazy. The other day, after walking passed Brandi's empty room, I told RL I was feeling a little sad about it. "That's why you need to take your 'crazy' pills."

See what I mean? He's driving me crazy!!

hey look, i'm on tv!

Have you seen the Progressive commercials with the quirky perky salesgirl? I love those commercials. But this latest one makes me laugh every time, mainly, because it reminds me of me.



Have you seen yourself on tv lately?

things about me -- #101

All time favorite song:

Green Eyed Lady

by Sugarloaf

(Love the song, but the video is dumb.)

humor for the pain

Note: I pulled this from the archives. Thanksgiving is a really difficult time for me and rather than post a completely new rendition of the same old thing, I decided to cheat. And just so you know, I'm taking this book with me to work so I can have a few laughs before the big day.

Have you ever been told some news that was so shocking, it felt as though someone knocked you upside the head with a skillet? That's how my life has been for several years now. Seems like every time I turn around there's another person standing in front of me with a skillet in their hands. It's enough to make a person hide under the bed and never answer the door.

The news -- your son is gay, your mom has cancer, your child tried to kill themself, and "Mom, I'm dropping out of school," -- is devasting and inconceivable. Daily life became surreal as I would make the bed, feed the dog, buy the groceries. My body was on autopilot. The scars can't be seen by others, but the ringing in my ears gets so loud others must be able to hear it!

But in the midst of it all there are small blessings of laughter. My dear friend gave me a book titled I'm So Glad You Told Me What I Didn't Wanna Hear, by Barbara Johnson. It is full of little morsels that melt the lump in my throat. I read it a couple of years ago and, now that my son has moved back home (Edit: He moved out almost two years ago and I haven't seen or heard from him since. I call him once a week and leave a message on his voice mail just to tell him I love him.), I am reading it again.

Here are some of my favorites:

~I need some of my problems to help take my mind off some of the others.

~Blessed are they who clip coupons, for they shall be redeemed.

~Sometimes my mind is so uncomfortable, I wish I could go somewhere and take it off.

~It is bad to suppress laughter. It goes back down and spreads to your hips.

~We probably wouldn't worry about what people think of us if we could know how seldom they do.

~Remember, every cloud has a silver lining . . . and sometimes a bolt of lightning.

~Time wounds all heels.

~The more you complain, the longer God lets you live

~One way to handle stress: Lie on your back to eat celery, using your navel as a salt dipper.

~Just when I nearly had the answer, I forgot the question.

~If you have the same problems I have . . . please seek help immediately!

~Most people have minds like concrete: mixed up or permanently set.

~Break out dancing every now and then . . . it'll help pass the time until they come to take you away.

~Do NOT come in out of the rain.

Hope these have brought a little laughter to your day.

speaking of convenience stores

I would say I spend more time than the average person at convenience stores over the course of a day. (No, not that kind of convenience store! What kind of girl do you think I am? Never mind that . . . So to make sure there's no confusion, the store hereafter will be referred to as QT) And, let me tell you, there are some really interesting, strange, and dumb things that go on there. (I guess I should explain, to those of you who may not know, my work takes me outside. So I go to QT for coffee in the morning, potty breaks, lunch, potty breaks, etc.) Anyway, I've spent so much time at QT and seen and experienced so many things there, I've decided to share a few of them with you. Aren't you excited?

First and foremost, because I want you to know not all things that happen at QT are bad. No, actually, I met RL at the QT. Really? Really! Back in the days when he was a fresh college graduate, still looking for the right job, he worked at QT. One day I walked through the door and into his life forever.

But back to the strange . . .

At QT there's just about anything you could want for your morning drive into work. Breakfast burritos, egg & sausage buiscuts, and, of course, COFFEE. One morning, as I was standing in line to pay (there's always a line, because everyone and their dog goes to QT in the mornings), I was patiently waiting my turn when I noticed an older woman scanning the breakfast choices offered. She made up her mind, picked up her selection, and quickly slipped it into her coat pocket. As a nice cover to the petty theft, she stood in line to pay for her chocolate milk.

Then there are the people who rarely, if ever, actually enter the QT, because they are standing out front (usually near the pay phone) trying to run a scam. One, I watched from my own front row seat in the work truck, involved two young "stranded" females. They walked up to the pay phone, one picked up the receiver, and proceeded to act as though she was having a conversation. The other one scanned the parking lot for a victim. A woman walked passed them and they completely ignored her. Next a young man came walking towards them and the one woman elbowed the other on the phone. She immediately went into full damsel in distress mode. The other woman stopped the man and explained they had run out of gas and didn't have any money and could he just give them a couple of dollars. He did, walked away, and the two women had a good laugh behind his back as they spied their next victim.

Not all things that happen at QT are criminal. Some things are just a little weird. Like someone who randomly walks up to people and asks them if they can take a picture of their tatoo to show their daughter. Or people who actually let some stranger take a picture of their tatoo. The really weird thing was when the girl was asked if a picture could be taken of her tattoo she said, "The one on my neck?" Well, um, yeah. Cause that's the only one I can see and cause I'm not gonna ask you to drop your drawers so I can get a pic of the rose tatooed on your butt. Weirdo!!

little pixels of happiness

Cocotte (pronounced coquette as in: a woman who endeavors without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men. I don't know if that describes her. Actually, she doesn't seem like that type of girl) over at Suburban Musings, was kind enough to honor me with two wonderful awards. (And sorry again, Cocotte, for not picking them up sooner.)

So in order for me to fulfill the requirements for receiving the Hooked on Your Blog award, I must list six things that make me happy right now, which should be fairly simple, 'cause I'm easy to please this early in the morning. (Stop it! I didn't mean it like that!!)

1. I woke up this morning. (Beats the alternative.)
2. Snuggling with my husband.
3. Down comforters
4. Hot coffee
5. Silence
6. My dog didn't pee on the floor in the middle of the night.

The Kreativ Blogger award is very humbling. Yeah, I know, it's just a bunch of colorful pixels that were copied and pasted in, but it means a lot to me. I'm not usually very good and receiving compliments, but when they come in such pretty packaging, who am I to refuse such a gift?!

I'm not too sure about the rules on passing on these awards, so I'm going to split them up. First, the Hooked on Your Blog award goes to Fade to Numb, because, well I'm hooked on his blog. Duh!! And the Kreativ Blogger award goes to the KOG, who, let's face it, makes the blog world go round with all her creative wordy girl ways.

top ten

Have you ever taken the time to post a comment on someone's blog, only to come back later and find your comment has been deleted? I've recently pondered this very thing and came up with these top 10 reasons why your comment might be deleted.

10. It's obvious you just want someone to visit your blog.

9. You're such a potty mouth.

8. Your profile image is dumb.

7. Your comment was completely irrelevant to the discussion.

6. Nice try, but I can still tell it's spam.

5. Your same comment appeared more than once (ya big dummy!)

4. Your comment had so many typos it appeared to be a foreign language.

3. Your comment was too long. Get your own blog.

2. Your comment was sexual in content, but you didn't include any contact information.

1. You're an idiot and no one wants to hear what you have to say anyway.

signs of the times

You would think it would go without saying, but apparently they must post signs letting you know that guns are not allowed at the neighborhood recreational center.

Now I don't know about you, but I don't think lacrosse is a sport that I would want to participate in while naked. Synchronized swimming, maybe, but not lacrosse.