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>Not the Sharpest Knives in the Drawer…

15 Apr

>Meredith is getting her molars (yes, I have mutant children who have a mouthful of teeth by the time they’re one) and has just been charming. Charming. Toss in a little newly-minted separation anxiety and it makes for one very frazzled, sleep-deprived momma.

So last night after she went to bed (but not for long), I declared we needed a treat. I wanted an orange cream slush from Sonic. Now…the last few times I’ve been to Sonic, they’ve messed up our order, usually in respect to the size of the things we order (mine comes too big, Sam’s comes too small). I decided the easiest way to remedy this would be to order by the actual cup size rather than confusing the poor Sonic employee with tricky terms like “small” or “regular.” Big mistake. This was the conversation that followed between myself and the Slow Sonic Employee (SSE), occuring through the ordering microphone.

Kate: Hi, I’d like a 14-oz. orange cream slush and a 20-oz. blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: What size do you want?

Kate: A 14-oz. orange cream slush and a 20-oz. blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: Is that, like, small or medium or regular?

Kate: I guess that would be a regular and a large.

SSE: A regular and a large what?

Kate: A regular orange cream slush and a large blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: So you want a regular orange slush and what else?

Kate: That’s a regular orange cream slush and a large blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: So you want a regular orange slush, a regular orange cream slush, and a large blue coconut cream slush?

Kate: No. I want one orange cream slush and one blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: What size?

Kate: Regular for the orange, large for the coconut.

SSE: Okay, so you want a large orange coconut slush and what else?

Let it be known that at this point, I’m trying so hard not to laugh because I don’t want to make the poor Slow Sonic Employee feel bad, but really?? Anyway, the conversation continues…

Kate: Okay, let’s start over. I want a regular orange cream slush.

SSE: Anything else for you?

Kate: Yes, I’d also like a large blue coconut cream slush.

SSE: Anything else for you?

Kate: No, I think that’ll do it.

SSE: Okay, I have a regular orange cream slush and a large blue coconut slush.

Kate: With cream.

SSE: With cream. Okay, I think I got it.

Let’s just say I waited with baited breath to see if my order was correct. Miraculously it was, but wow…maybe this dude needs a new career path.

>I’m Officially "Don’t Eat the Paste" Special

15 Mar

>$10 if you get the reference. Okay, maybe not a real $10, but maybe $10 worth of long-distance phone calls!

How many times do I have to touch dryer lint with wet hands before I learn NOT to?! I swear, if I were a lab rat, I would have been let go a long time ago. And by “let go,” I don’t mean pink-slipped. Unless the pink slip involves a needle.

>Really? What Genius Came Up with THIS Idea?

14 Feb

>So I’ll admit it. I’m a naive little Mormon from Utah. And don’t get me wrong, I’m actually quite enjoying our time so far in the South, I just find a lot of things here that I think are funny (bedside gun holder…man in bright yellow sign that reads, “Read the King James Version Bible or BURN!” in the middle of the expressway…a church marquee that reads “Jesus Satisfies.”) I also think people here are genuinely nice, much moreso, actually, than in Utah. But I’m still scratching my head over this one.

So today I was flipping through our brand-new phonebook to discover a place called Daiquiris to Go. Drive-thru only. And, in case you’re wondering (as I did), these are real, true daiquiris with rum and vodka and gin and something called Diesel 190.

I guess I don’t get how we can reinforce that drinking and driving is wrong if there are places where you can actually buy alcoholic beverages whilst driving your car in sizes ranging from 12 ounces to 64 ounces in a cup and up to a gallon in a jug. Like I said, I’m not exactly an expert in what it actually takes to get drunk, but I imagine that a 64-oz. frozen fruity alcoholic beverage would probably do the trick.

Upon further investigation, I discovered that you’re legally allowed to buy the drink, but you can’t take the lid off or put a straw in it. Um, okay. It’s 100 degrees outside with 100% humidity and I go get a 32 oz. icy Diet Coke and you think I’m not gonna drink it? That I’m going to wait until I’m home and it’s gross and melty? Pshaw.

Am I totally off here in thinking this is so wrong? I mean, maybe it has something to do with the fact that two of my grandparents and an aunt were all killed by drunk drivers, but I just find this SO wrong. I’ll get off my soapbox now.

>Never Trust the Internet to Give You an Accurate Travel Estimate Time…

3 Feb

>Yeah. That’s all I have to say. A little jaunt to Houston and back that was supposed to take 3 1/2-4 hours each way ended up being a little more like 10-12 hours in the car. Our poor children–they’ve been VERY patient with their crazy parents lately!

We did make it to Ikea and got some cool furniture. The Ikea Syndrome set in though–you know, where you say you’re only going to be an hour or two, it’s going to be a quick trip, get in and out ASAP. Four hours and some Swedish meatballs later, you haggardly drag yourself through the checkout line, knowing you’ve forgotton something (butter holder) because you felt so rushed as you were frantically trying to collect everything you needed/wanted/that looked really cool (cake dome, anyone?). Today, we are skipping out on Stake Conference (GASP!) to assemble our furniture and finish unpacking boxes so we can feel like we’re not camping for the first time in 3 1/2 weeks.

I do have a funny Ikea story to share, though. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with Ikea and their packaging practices, they’re really great at packing things in a way that will fit very compactly into (or on top of) your car. Of course, this leads to several hours of deciphering illustrations while attempting to assemble your Smarfnoff Olga kitchen cart at a later time, but at least it’s easy to get home! However, no matter how compactly things are packaged, there are just some things that are physically impossible.

So anyway, as we were unloading our recent purchases into the minivan, there was a couple next to us loading up their Honda Civic. This couple had purchased a king-sized bed frame. They put down the back seats of the Civic and opened the trunk, lifted up the headboard, and, oops! It’s too wide to fit into the trunk. Now, I can tell you right now that it was too wide because, both length- and height-wise, the headboard box was wider than the car itself, let alone the trunk opening. So they open the box, I’m assuming to see if the headboard comes in more than one piece. It is one piece. They are not deterred and attempt to put the headboard into the trunk. But see, as part of Ikea’s space-economical packaging, whatever is in the box is packed in there so compactly that it’s reasonable to assume that the size of the box of a single item is very close to the actual size of the item. So strike two–the headboard, surprisingly enough, does not fit into the trunk of the car without the extra 1/2 inch of box around it. Dejectedly, the couple places the headboard back into the mangled box, wraps it up with no-longer-sticky tape that originally held the box together, and ties it onto the top of the poor little Civic with the twine Ikea provides for your convenience.

It was a time like this that made me wish I still had a camera in my cell phone, so I could surreptitiously take pictures without people noticing and then post them on my blog. However, I think we can all learn a few lessons from this.

1. You know those Ikea commercials where the guy (Sven?) is driving in his little yellow bug with a huge stack of Ikea purchases strapped to the top? Drivers of small cars, this commercial is for you. You, too can haul massive amounts of furniture home from Ikea, it just has to go on TOP of your car.

2. Don’t do stupid things at Ikea. Some one may be watching every move you make and then come home and mock you on their blog.

>Last Night at the Ho-Temple

26 Jan

>So our stuff won’t be here until Thursday, but we’re outta this place on Monday night! The only reason we’re waiting until Mondayy is because our new house won’t have a fridge until Tuesday. So we’re waiting. But after last night, believe me, we were ready to go!

So Friday night is apparently party night at the ho-temple. We may have a non-smoking room, but that doesn’t mean the lovely smell of cigarette smoke doesn’t waft into your neck of the woods when seemingly every OTHER room in the hotel is being smoked in. So that was nice. This morning, the elevator smelled like cigarette smoke, booze, and pickles. Not so sure where the pickles came from, but I can just imagine a bunch of shirtless vagabonds partying it up in the elevator with their smokes, beer, and a big jar of Vlasics.

The walls here are not insulated at all, which means that you can hear everything going on above, below, and on either side of you. To make things worse, our room is directly in front of the elevator (which smells of pickles). Last night, there was a rather raucous party going on in the room next to us and we came to find out that the front desk closes at 6:00 pm. Naturally. So any late-night noise complaints go unheard and I’m not about to tell my shirtless neighbors to please be quiet.

**RANDOM SIDE NOTE**

There was just a commercial for this product. Just what everyone needs–a gun rack for the side of your bed! I am definitely in the South…

**BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY-SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING**

So anyway, after the party died down, we were about to go to sleep when our phone started ringing. Sam answered it and someone who spoke very little English requested “a lady who used to live there.” Sam told them they had the wrong number. He comes back to bed. The phone rings again and Sam tells them the same thing. Returns to bed. The phone rings again and Sam tells them to please stop calling. Comes back to bed. The phone rings again. Sam disconnects the line.

Around 3:00 am, we hear a thunk and see that Clark has fallen out of the bed. Sam gets into bed with Clark so as to prevent any future brain damage.

Around 5:00, we hear an alarm clock buzzing. Is it ours? Of course not! It would belong to our next-door, hard-partying neighbors. Who are sleeping through their alarm. Sam bangs on the wall and they turn off their alarm.

Around 5:30, we hear Mariachi music through the walls.

It was quite the night. We went to Sam’s Club and bought an air mattress today and now I just want to INFLATE it. And NOT at the ho-temple.