The Everyday Housewife

This is another entry from Danica. Better known as the Everyday Housewife.

I have limited interaction with our mailman other than the occasional, "Sup" head nod. If you think about it though the mailman certainly has some dirt on me. He knows that we have a subscription to Parents magazine . . and Playboy (with occasional, coinciding arrival days). He knows when our family members are travelling (more about that later) and even knows when the husband goes on late night, jersey-buying binges on ebay. As of this last weekend, he is also well aware of my affinity for fried meat.

Scene: Mailman approaches housewife's door.

Housewife happy she is wearing pants.

Mailman: deep inhale, "smells like bacon," smiles.

Housewife: Yep

Mailman: I love bacon

Housewife: (fumbling for polite small talk) Well, we've been eating ALOT of bacon lately

Mailman: So are the world travellers back?

Housewife: (look of confusion)

Mailman: I don't want to say that I read your postcards but you can't really help it when it is right next to the address. Did they really go all of those places?

Housewife: Oh, yeah. The travelling grandparents are now back in the country.

Husband: Did the mailman just comment on the bacon smell and admit that he reads our mail?

Housewife: Yep.

End scene

Paris/Rhianna '08: A Ticket I'd like to get Behind

So, if you haven't noticed, there is a Presidential race happening. McCain v. Obama. I think it's a cage match. John McCain is old, Barack Obama is for change blah, blah, blah, we get it. Anyway, in one of his TV adverts, Old Man McCain shows Paris Hilton for maybe one second. Ms. Hilton took that as an opportunity to put herself out there, again. Not a sex tape, not a new fragrance, not some champange in a can, but a retort of sorts. She jabs at McCain a little, then, completes an actual thought on the energy crisis. And wouldn't you know it, the thing makes sense.

Check it out: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d

(Some error thing happened and couldn't embed it. The interwebs is hard. I think the series of tubes is jammed.)

I'm not saying it's her idea or that she can even read, but shit, it does make sense. I am NOT saying elect Paris Hilton President of these fine United States, but I do hope that we find a solution and that the Presidential race doesn't turn into a giant pissing match.

Too Hot for a Shirt

It’s the start of a new work week and that means a new winner of “Too Hot for a Shirt.” This week it’s Sean Green. Not the baseball player, but the UCLA grad that thinks he can be a punter in the NFL. I’m serious and I hope he isn’t. This is truly amazing.

“I can be a teammate first. A punter second. Holder third (Right and left
footed, mind you). Third-string quarterback fourth. And fake punter fifth
(Running and throwing).”

From the looks of this video, he is the total package and quite a bargain for any NFL team. My only hope is that he is joking. If he is, it’s great. If he's not, then my hopes for humanity have been squelched. Something tells me he's serious.

WTF?

This section is dedicated to crazy shit that happens throughout a regular day. It leaves us only to ask one question, WTF? This entry is brought to us by Danica.

Each day I come to work knowing there is a high likelihood of a strange and uncomfortable interaction with at least one of my coworkers. This morning however, I had no idea that today would go down in the annuls of crazy workplace lore. Let me preface this with a little background on Angela. Angela came to us from a 23 1/2 year stint at a local newspaper. Yes, I said 1/2. With the addition of Angela, the median age of my work team is now 42. Angela herself was born in the paleolithic era and looks like a scary version of the wicked queen from Snow White. She is an odd duck with a background in theatre, which of course is why she is logically employed at the bank. What makes Angela interesting is her random, unprovoked outbursts of honesty. Today proved to be a fine day indeed. I complied with Angela's request to cover an outstanding item as she was leaving work early to pick up her son from camp. I graciously accepted her request and wished her all the best with her son as she had not seen him all week. She then asked if I would like to hear the "Zander" song. Never missing an opportunity to be entertained I agreed. I would like to say that this would be the first time this week that a coworker serenaded me, however not the case. The Zander song was heartfelt . . and LOUD. Below are the lyrics . .

He's my zander

He's my zanderman

He is my zander

Love him all I can

He is my zander

He's my pumpkin pie, its true Woo, woo, woo, wo-oo

Well I'm gonna kiss him and I'm gonna hug him

Gonna put him in the bathtub and rubba' dubba' dub him

Line I can't remember

Then I gonna pat his sweet bontoon

The only way to follow up such a beautiful song would be an equally outrageous statement. Angela announced (again very loudly) that she breastfed her son until he was 3 after I asked if she still sang the song to her son. That seems like a reasonable response to my question. Zander song and a proclamation of borderline child abuse, another day at the bank.