Dear Super Mom,

Thank you so much for allowing your child to come over to our house for a school project/play date on Thursday.  I know, I know, that I must have seemed a little unrealistic when I suggested the two boys could get together after school sometime, but I real appreciate the way you went through Super Kid's schedule and found an hour of time for Bubba.  I was so kind of you to be able to fit Bubba in only 10 days from the original request.  


I understand what with guitar lessons, softball, other play dates, and all the other myriad of tasks you set out for your son that you plan each hour of your child's life with a Daytimer.  Who wouldn't?


I also appreciate how over prepared Super Kid was for the 58 minutes Bubba was allowed to spend with him.  It was so kind of Super Kid to bring an electric guitar, amp and music to my house to really show Bubba his mad guitar skills and make Bubba feel like the idiot child.


The best part of the whole 58 minutes for me, though, was when you corrected me.  THAT was really kind of you to show me the error of my thinking.  In front of my child.  I really needed to be reprimanded.  Let's make sure we get together again soon.  I'll check my calendar and get back to you.


Hugs and sloppy kisses,


Careless

A Big Thanks to Macys!

Dear Macy's-

Thank you so much for hiring sales associates that work for commission sales.  A few days ago I was in your store making a purchase for my husband and came across one of the worst sales associates I have ever encountered in my 23 years of adulthood shopping.  And THAT is saying something given the lack of the oxymoronic phrase "Customer Service" in the last few years (right Jennifer)?

Let's start with her appearance.  Whilst a black cami is always a good choice under a sweater for those just in case wardrobe malfunctions (funny story about me and my lack of cami's later), the shear Frederick's of Hollywood cami this certain employee was wearing was inappropriate given she was having a major wardrobe malfunction.  Her sweater had come unbuttoned and her 60 year old cleavage was on display for all to see.

Secondly, when I walk up and am obviously in a hurry to check out with my one item, when said ASSociate makes eye contact with me, asks me if I am ready to check out and takes my purchase from my hand, I am pretty convinced that she IS NOT going to lay it down and walk away to help someone else.  I was very offended that this sales associate was so bent on multitasking, but sucked at it.

When I went back to your fine store the next day to return the item, since it did not fit my husband, I was very irritate to see that the SAME employee was doing THE EXACT same moves...making eye contact, asking to be helpful, then walking away.  I am was very happy to be returning my item and will be taking ALL my purchases to another check stand from this point forward.

Hugs and sloppy kisses!
Careless

Pool Advice

Hannah went with some friends to their "membership only" pool yesterday and as she was getting ready she asked if I would rub some sunscreen on her back, since we all know she will burn like a lobster if sunscreen wasn't applied (I told you about her trip to King's Island a few weeks ago?  Were she burned her chest and left the mark of the necklace she was wearing on her neck?)


Anywho...Hannah is running out of the house in a bikini top and Daisy Duke-ish black swim shorts, rushing to meet her friends when David see's her and her two triangles and a strip of cloth swim top and FA-reaks out.  He was going all "You don't have enough clothes on"..."Where is the rest of your top"...on her.  She, in typical teenage fashion, rolls her eyes ignoring him and bends down to give him a kiss telling him goodbye.


I, too, receive a kiss and ask her to text us later.


As she walks out the door, David yells after her..."MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR BOOBS IN YOUR TOP!"


Excellent advice, my friend.  Excellent advice.

Big Thank You to Hannah

Dear Hannah,


Thank you so much for making my job interview that much more special this afternoon.  Leaving me with a little piece of you, just made me feel so special.  


When I got home from my hour long aptitude test and took off my dress up clothes (black pants and a big girl top that wasn't too Garanimal-ly) I was so touched when I found that the reason my pants "felt funny" during the test and I was a little squirmy, was because your animal bedding was sticking out the back of my pants.  One of the bright blue strips of fleece your sugar gliders use to make their nest each night was such a sweet reminder that you wished me well on my new venture.


Here I thought brushing my teeth, combing my hair, wearing just the right amount of jewelry, ironing my clothes was all I needed for luck.  Little did I know that a royal strip of fleece hanging out the back of my waistband was something to look for.


I'm never going to get a job.  Get used to dry spaghetti sweetheart.


Love you, 


Mom

IQ 80

It is the end of the school year...only 7 more school days to go!  Woot!  And so the "what am I going to do with my life" inner turmoil begins again.  This coupled with the fact that the job economy for David currently isn't great, I applied for a job.  A real job.  A 40 hour a week, have to wear shoes and brush your hair every morning before work job.  You know, the real kind of job where you don't get paid by the hour, but by the year...gasp.


So I applied for a job last Saturday as I was surfing the net wondering what I want to be when I grow up, and low and behold...I got an interview.  Seriously.  They called on Monday and wanted to schedule an interview with little ole' me.  (This is where I either faint from relief that I am marketable at 41, or where I faint that I have to go and put on nice clothes and talk to someone and make it seem like my IQ hasn't dropped 50 points since I had kids.)


Before the interview, I had to take some online ethics test and a personality test.  Whatever.  Doesn't seem too weird.  Or hard.  Until...dun...dun...dun...they said the first step in the interview process is an aptitude test.  A what?  A...CRAP!  They sent over a few examples and I started giving it a little looksie.  Can I detect sequential patterns?  Uh...sure...that looks...um...ok...ay.  The next section measures spatial relationships.  Uh...crap.  I may have a problem with that.  The final section?  Math aptitude.  Crickets are chirping.  Math?  ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?  


Did you all know that I was an Art major?  Seriously.  NO MATH.  Zero.  So I read the first example:  In a certain company, 30 percent of the men and 20 percent of the women attend night school.  If 40 percent of all employees are men, what percent of all the employees attend night school?  


I take out my handy dandy pencil and start scratching out some answers.  Um...percentages...should be easy enough.  I am a pro a figuring percentages at the store.  No problems.  I scratch a few ideas out and finally my answer matches their provided example's answer.  Whew.  Okay.


Nine other sample questions prove to me that I still have no business doing math.  I manage to muddle through 2 or so, but who here remembers algebra?  (Besides David and David and Rob, I'm guessing).  So, the age old question...could YOU pass an algebra aptitude test?  I just got home from the test (what will be, will be) and am feeling very IQ 80.

More Thank You's

Gosh, this "Thank You" note thing is really easy!  So many people...so little time...


Dear Platinum Blonde Jeep Driver,


Today as I was wondering how to get my father and his cane in and out of the restaurant at the Mall I so much appreciated how you skipped out to your Jeep in your stiletto's and jeggings and took your handicapped placard off your visor.  It was so helpful to see that you thought since you had all those shopping bags to carry, that you needed that rock star parking space for you and your big hair.  I just love how the blue in the handicapped placard picked up the blue in your eyes and sparkly rings.


I did question your need for the handicapped spot, but then when you drove out of the lot ahead of me I finally understood why you needed said spot, you are retarded.  Or visually impaired.  One of the two...since after I loaded my father and mother back into my car, you tried to run me off the road (do you check your mirrors?) as you decided to make a left turn from the right hand lane.


Hugs and sloppy kisses,


Careless

Thank You Notes

I am NOT a late night person.  Our family's routine is that the t.v., internet and phones go off around 9 most nights, then we get ready for bed and talk, do sudoku, read until we are asleep.

Let's face it.  We are the Boringtons.  But as you can tell from previous posts, we are snarkey.  So when I heard about Jimmy Fallon's new book "Thank You Notes" based on his late night segment...I was instantly smitten.  I saw this new book being plugged the other morning and about died laughing.

So...I think I should start my own segment of Thank You Notes.  Let me have a go...

Dear Blue Pickup Driver,

Thank you so much for trying to run me off the road with your scary empty trailer multiple times the other night.  The 10 hour driving trip I took last Sunday was made so much more pleasant by the fact that you were on the road with me during those "just twilight" hours when I was trying allow my eyes to adjust to the darkening skies.  

I really appreciated how you sped up to pass me then slowed down to cut me off, it really helped me stay alert and pass the hours. Over and over again.  Your dilapidated trailer was so interesting, and made me smile as it's flickering rear tail lights winked at me as they threatened to smack into my bumper. Repeatedly.  It was almost as if you didn't realize someone had attached this 15 foot extension of death to your truck.

Thanks, too, for driving down the middle of two lanes.  I appreciate how you left me a lane to weave in and out of.  I am so impressed by the driving and drivers in the great state of Kentucky, and had so many things to say about your skills.  Even my 74 year old mother had so many things to say about you.

I hope the next time I have to drive to and from my brother's house you will make another appearance!

Hugs and sloppy kisses,

Careless

Shopping with My Girl

Last night Hannah and I went out shopping because her game was cancelled, due to rain.  My 5'5" string bean with a size 10 shoe needed a few things.


We walked into TJ Maxx and started looking around.  Hannah saw a shirt she liked and in true Hannah fashion stripped her hoodie off and tried the shirt on over her cami in the middle of the aisle.  I'm rolling my eyes at modesty going on in the middle of the aisle.  


A few minutes later I see a dress I really like, and channeling my daughter, say "cover me" and proceed to try the dress on OVER my t-shirt and track pants in the middle of the dress aisle.  Hannah jumps in to help me with the zipper and a girl Hannah's age comes around the corner and sees the two of us struggling with the zipper.  The girl freezes and surveys the scene in the middle of the aisle and turns on her heel and leaves.


Hannah bursts out laughing and I hurriedly try to get the dress off without ripping it.


Yes, we're the two freaks trying stuff on over our clothes in the store.