Free T-shirt

     I'm sick of free T-shirts. Now before you go on a pro T-shirt rampage let me tell you, I appreciate a T-shirt as much as the next person. They are soft and cozy, lightweight and comfortable, good for wearing while you do dirty chores, great for working out in, and perfect for shredding into pieces to dust with, or for making the occasional tourniquet. See? I get it. But one can only have so many T-shirts stuffed into their T-shirt drawer. I'm gonna take a guess here and say that you probably have some that you never use, and never will use. And the chances are pretty high, that one or more of those you didn't even buy. You probably got them for free from someone hoping to promote their business, or as an incentive for doing something wonderful like donating blood (as if you needed a reward, you're saving a life for goodness sake! Or...maybe blood banks are selling your blood, in which case you are actually supporting their business.....hmmm.) But might I suggest to the business owners of America, that there are better ways to promote your business? Ways that will actually help your future customers to remember you with fondness rather than irritation? Think about it. How many of us have received a T-shirt from some company hoping to gain our business, and when we get home we realize it is the wrong size? And now that I've mentioned it, why is it that they only give out two sizes? Not everyone is the size of a small chihuahua or a XXXL. Now if I had a chihuahua, and it needed a T-shirt, I would probably go to a pet store and purchase one there. I have a revolutionary idea. Instead of paying $5. for a shirt that may end up shining my hubcaps, how about giving out a $3. Starbucks cards? Everybody likes coffee. And for the 3 of those who do not, Starbucks sells tea too....If you give me a card for a free cuppa, I'm going to remember you. Or a coupon for a donut down at the Krispy Kreme. Who can pass up on a cake donut with sprinkles on top? WHO, I ask? Keep your lousy printed pens and coffee mugs, your worthless T-shirts and key rings. I don't want another T-shirt. Not a single one. Go into any thrift store and guess what you'll find? That's right my smart friend, a bunch of goofy T-shirts that no one wants. If you want me to remember you, stop with the T-shirts and bring on the coffee and donuts man.
     T-shirt hater
     Miss Jodi

Babe the beagle

   Meet Babe, our beagle. Isn't she just adorable? Just the cutest? Want her? She is yours. I'll even kick in a jumbo sized bag of Ol' Roy weight management dog food. AND the contents of my savings account. And my eternal gratitude. ETERNAL. I hate her. I really do. Unless I don't. See how she looks at you? The big brown eyes and the sweet face cocked ever so slightly to the right? She is an expert at cuteness. And at inducing guilt. Which explains how we have had her so long without a single slice from my ever present machete. Don't hate. Don't call PETA. She is treated very well. There is always fresh water, a walk around the neighborhood almost every day, snuggling time indoors each night, and plenty of food (which explains her 20+ pounds of extra weight). Beagles have a high tendency to be overweight. Something about their super-sniffers. They also have a tendency to howl. A howl in case you don't know, is very different from a bark. A howl empties the lungs. And continues. And continues. Which is why I hate her. She can also tell time. For instance, every night at 6:10pm she begins to yelp. A very loud yelp I might add. Over and over and over. Until I begin to think murderous beagle thoughts. How can I kill her? What would be the most efficient and tidiest way? An overdose of left over pain killers? A quick slice of the machete across the throat? Perhaps an "accident?" And just at the moment when I finally get up my nerve, she does something cute, like snuggling with her teddy bear. Or nuzzling up against me. Or my daughter, her "owner" walks into the room and sits down next to her...I think they are conspiring together to keep her alive. They both know my limits with her....their timing is impeccable. Coincidence? I don't think so. And so... for tonight, she will live to see tomorrow. Unless God looks down and has mercy on me. And so my wait continues. I will continue to wait for her to breathe her last breath. Because I am a wimp. And because she did that cute little head cock thing....and maybe, maybe because I kinda sorta love her.
     Waiting for her to die...
     Miss Jodi

No cuts' man!

     Fist of all, may I wish all of you wonderful Fathers out there in Blog-land a happy Fathers day? And to all of you less than wonderful Fathers.... ah never mind. In honor of this special day, I wanted to make my husband his favorite breakfast in the world, fresh baked cinnamon rolls with gooey cream cheese frosting. But, since I can't do that, I did the next best thing, I went to Stater Brothers (our neighborhood grocery store). I knew that I would find the prepackaged BPA laden plastic container of 6 beautiful cinnamon rolls for the convenient price of just $3.49.
     I took those sticky beauties straight up to the check out lane, and if you know Stater Brothers, you know that their check out is about as slow as pouring a jarful of molasses in the dead of Winter. Of course this has economical benefits for me. For instance, I can check out the "Plastic surgery gone bad" issue of the National Enquirer without buying it. Not that I would ever stoop to such a level mind you.... Ahem. The line was about 6 people deep. I was #7..... It didn't look good. I began perusing the magazine rack and checking the sale prices of bubble gum. Then, a wonderful thing happened. Over the loudspeaker I heard those wonderful words, "Cashiers to the registers please."
     The new cashier stepped up to person #2 and asked if they would like to come to a new lane. Everyone but me followed. I'm no fool. I knew that my chances of getting out of there in less than five minutes severely diminished if I moved. I decided to hunker down and wait it out in isle #5 thank you very much. Until...a man with a gallon of milk stepped in front of me. Now, I don't know what kind of milk emergency he may have been suffering from at his home, and honestly, I just didn't care. How dare he take cuts!!! I'm pretty sure I heard the theme music from The good, the bad and the ugly. (I know this song very well, every single note because my dear son, during the summer of 5th grade decided to master it with his recorder....over and over again he played that catchy little tune. Until tragically and mysteriously it ended up missing. Go figure, right?)
     It was just Milk man and me. Our eyes locked. I  glared. He glared right back. This was a show down. I refused to even consider defeat. He took his milk and reached over to place it on the conveyor belt, I pushed my cart forward so he couldn't....and then? Another check stand opened and he left. Victory! Woo hoo! That's right, Mr. Milk man disappeared from my life and isle #5 just as quickly as he had appeared. Smart man if you ask me. So, as I taught my children so long ago, I also teach you. NEVER start a fight, but if someone else does, make sure you finish it.
     Till next time,
     Miss Jodi (Victor of Stater Brothers Hesperia CA)
    

it's been one of those weeks....

healthy donuts

For all my health conscious friends out there:

Now we can all enjoy a donut! Happy Donut day Y'all!
Miss Jodi

Be nice, it matters.

OK, I don't know if it was really Charlie who wrote this, or someone named Henry who wrote it and put Charlies name underneath it....it doesn't matter. The point here is what I truly believe, humor does not need to be at another persons expense. You don't need to hurt someone in order to make someone else laugh.