An Early Loss

6 04 2010

It’s somewhat fitting in a sad way that the last post I wrote about, Dude It’s a Dolphin, was a story told to me by my husband’s ex-best friend.  He passed away on March 1, 2010 one week shy of his 42nd birthday due to complications from pancreatitis.  He left behind his 36-year-old wife and 12-year-old son.  At one time, he was my husband’s best friend and his wife was my best friend.  In fact, it was because of our best friends dating that my husband and I were set up in the first place.  Over the year, we drifted apart as friends sometimes do.  We reconciled with them many years ago and then went our separate ways for good.  In hindsight, stupid arguments gave way to hurt feelings and a break in the friendship that would never be healed.  In fact, my husband hadn’t spoken to his best friend in over 10 years at the time of his friend’s death.  We had some mutual friends, which was how we found out about my husband’s friend’s death.

My husband was completely shocked by how deeply this had affected him.  They hadn’t spoken for almost 4 years, which was the last time my husband attempted a reconciliation with his former best friend in person.  Anyone that knows my husband, however, was not surprised at the depth of his pain.  At one point in their lives, these two had been closer than brothers.  His biggest regret?  He could never “fix it”, meaning their broken friendship.  There was now a finality to everything.  He would never again have the opportunity to extend a hand and have the hope of reliving the great brotherhood they shared so many years ago.

The oddest/best thing to come out of this was that my ex-best friend and I have seemed to mend our broken friendship in the wake of this tragedy in her life.  Out of the mulch buds a rose.  I didn’t want to have this chance to “fix it” pass me by like it had my husband.  It’s just one of life’s lessons, I guess.

B.W.





Dude, It’s a Dolphin!

13 01 2010

My husband (BWH) is deathly afraid of sharks.  He is so afraid, in fact, that he refuses to even watch them on TV.  Of course, my son and I tease him mercilessly about it.  One of our favorite stories that we continue to tease him about was told to us by an old friend of his.  When they were younger, my husband’s friend talked him into giving surfing a try.  I don’t know how he convinced him, but he did.  While the BWH’s friend was sitting on his board, awaiting the next wave, BWH came paddling by at a frenetic pace.  All he saw were arms, legs and water splashing about.  When BWH’s friend turned to see what BWH was frantically escaping from, he saw a grey dorsal fin a few feet behind.  BWH’s friend turned in BWH’s direction, laughed and yelled, “Dude!  It’s a dolphin!”  BWH didn’t care.  He didn’t stop paddling until he was on the sand and never returned to the water in anything other than a boat again.

B.W.





Helpful Husband Tip #1

21 12 2009

Here is a helpful tip that all husbands need to know.  If your wife is holding a scalding hot open container of cocoa that she has already commented on how scalding hot it is and then proceeds to spill some of the scalding hot contents of said cocoa onto herself, do not and I repeat DO NOT rip the shirt off your body and throw it at her.  More likely than not, your aim will not be true and you will end up spilling more of the scalding hot cocoa onto the already burned wife.  While the chivalrous sentiment is appreciated (like throwing your coat down over a puddle so your lovely lady’s shoes don’t get wet), the reality is this will only end up turning a simple first degree burn into a second and possibly even third degree burn in no time flat.

B.W.





Bingo Balls

10 12 2009

Bingo Balls (sung to the tune of Jingle Bells)

Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall and waiting here to play

Sitting in your chair, arranging all your cards
Fluff the troll doll’s hair, shake your dauber hard
Take a look around, all you see is grey
You don’t really care because you hear the caller say

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play

The bingo hall is full of characters galore
Right across from you, another Bingo Whore
Eight troll dolls lined up, to bring the player luck,
Rolling storage set aside for lucky charms to tuck

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play

You’re squirming in your seat, the greys get quite upset
You start to laugh too loud, you’re eyeballs are all wet
Why are they sedate? Why must we all behave?
It’s probably because they’ve all got one foot in the grave

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play

B9 comes up first, then G52,
If you win this pot, whatever will you do?
I16 is called, you only need one more
The free space is your friend, where is O64?

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in a Bingo hall, waiting here to play

Your mouth starts to get dry, you sit straight in your chair
With each number called, you’re pulling out your hair
You only need one more, why can’t they say it now?
You don’t think you can wait, sweat rises up upon your brow

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play

Regular I get, diagonal or two
Four corners are OK, a picture frame is too
But when they start to get, creative in their games
I get confused and stumble to keep up and call them names

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play

We’re getting towards the end, you haven’t won a pot
The giggling’s all gone, you’re giving all you’ve got
Blackout is the game, you only need B5
What did the caller say?  You’ve just won the grand prize!

Oh, Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play
Bingo Balls, Bingo Balls, Bingo all the way
Sitting in the Bingo hall, waiting here to play

B.W.





The Refrigerator Bandit

5 12 2009

A few years ago, I worked in an office where we had a community refrigerator.  This was where any food brought from home would be stored until lunchtime, snacktime, whenever.  For several years before that, we had the refrigerator and had never had a problem with anyone eating someone else’s food.  Of course, that could be because there were only 3 of us in the office.  So, it would be pretty easy to find out who took something that didn’t belong to them.  However, when we merged companies, we grew into a bigger office, bigger warehouse and more people bringing their food and keeping it in the fridge.  It was only a matter of time before the refrigerator bandit would rear his ugly head.

Within weeks of moving into the new office with our new workmates, stuff started mysteriously disappearing from the fridge.  A soda here, a power drink there.  As time went on, the refrigerator bandit (“RB” as we affectionately started calling him) got more and more daring.  Since he wasn’t getting called out on it, he started taking leftovers in the afternoons from the takeover someone would put in the fridge, eating parts of the food in the container and actually putting it back in the fridge.  One of the girls had Chinese takeout that she couldn’t finish and had put in the fridge to take home for dinner later.  She had to throw it out when she realized that someone had eaten part of her food and left the used plastic fork right on top of the food in the container.  Yeah, gross!  During inventory, we always worked late into the evening to finish.  I had brought a Diet Coke (my only source of caffeine since I don’t drink coffee) as a treat for later in the evening and to give me that much needed caffeine rush to finish the day.  “RB” had taken it, opened it, drank it, apparently realized it was “diet” and didn’t like it and put the rest of the opened up, backwashed laden Diet Coke back in the fridge.  Did he think I would think I had opened the soda myself and stuck it back in there?  Really?

We knew who “RB” was.  He was never officially caught red-handed.  But, some of the warehouse staff had seen him lurking around the fridge and actually taking stuff out of it.  He never brought anything with him to put in the fridge so there was no reason for him to go into the fridge.  And the fact that he made more money than ANY of us who worked there was a real rub.  So, the other office girl and I hatched an evil plan to get back at good ol’ “RB” and teach him a lesson.

“RB” had a real affinity for iced tea, it seemed.  That and the power drinks (like Monster and Rock Star) seemed to disappear with an alarming frequency from our company refrigerator.  So, my friend brought a good size bottle of Snapple Ice Tea and I brought a huge jar of the hottest chili peppers I could find.  She opened the bottle, drank more than half of the ice tea and we filled the rest with the juice from the entire jar of chilis to the very top of the bottle.  She then put the lid back on so tight, that it appeared to not have been opened at all and we stuck it back in the fridge.  A little while later, “RB” came storming into the office and headed straight for the bottled water, tears streaming down his eyes.  We immediately went to the refrigerator to check out the bottle of ice tea.  There was a nice big gulp of it gone.  We laughed so hard.  The only way I can figure that he didn’t realize there was chili juice in the jar was because he was in such a hurry so he wouldn’t get caught, that he just guzzled the ice tea without stopping long enough to smell it as it came close to his nose to drink. 

Needless to say, “RB” didn’t strike again for the rest of the time I worked there.  That’s what you get when you start pilfering what is not yours from the company fridge.  Beware!

B.W.





Texts From the Kid

18 11 2009

Yes, the Bingo Whore has spawn.  In fact, he just turned 15 yesterday.  You know how I know for sure that he is my kid?  Take a look at the text messages that went back and forth today:

Bingo Whore’s Kid: 3.187 – See if you can figure it out.

(I didn’t see this right away, so didn’t get a chance to answer before the following came in)

BW Kid: Figure it out yet?  No?  Here’s another clue.  These numbers will release a little white box.  Giggidy giggidy goo!

BW: WTF?

BW Kid: Give up?  It’s my GPA!!!  🙂  3.187

BW: Dude!  Good job!

BW Kid: This is the 23rd proudest moment of my life.  Don’t ask me how I know, I just have a feeling.  LOL

BW: You are such a freak!

BW Kid: 🙂

I can’t get rid of him.  He’s just too funny!

B.W.





Surprise! You’re Throwing a Baby Shower!

2 11 2009

Have you ever gone to a baby shower where the surprise is that YOU are doing the work instead of the people hosting the shower?  This happened to me almost 2 1/2 years ago when I went up to my husband’s brother’s house over 700 miles away to attend his wife’s baby shower being thrown by my husband’s sister and his mother.  I made the silly mistake of thinking I was a guest.  However, when I showed up, I quickly learned that this was definitely NOT the case. 

Like all grand plans laid out by my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, they had planned everything down to the last possible cute detail but hadn’t thought about how long it would take to get things ready.  So, the day after driving those 700 miles to my brother-in-law’s house, I found myself alone at the kitchen table making table decorations for a rubber ducky themed shower and following specific instructions on how many of these doo-dads go into the cheesecloth, how many of those confetti sticker thingys get added and how long the ribbon needs to be to tie everything together.  Now, I didn’t start out alone at the table.  Somehow, everyone found other things that needed their attention in the other room.  My sister-in-law (the mommy-to-be) eventually wandered in the kitchen and asked me where everyone else went.  I told her I didn’t know.  So, she sat down to put these little goodies together with me…and it was HER PARTY that was supposed to be done FOR HER.

The day before (on the day we had arrived after DRIVING 700 MILES…no, I’m not bitter), we had piled everyone up into two cars and gone on a scavenger hunt to find all the necessary items to make this the most precious baby shower ever.  We went merrily through the grocery store, snagging this and grabbing the “Oh wouldn’t that be cute!” that and stuffing it all into the grocery cart.  “We just HAVE to have those!”  In the cart they go.  Sister-in-law likes this for the baby.  In the cart it goes.  “ALL babies need THAT!”  In the cart it goes.  Hubby’s sister wants this magazine and those candies for herself.  In the cart they go.  When we got to the register, my mother-in-law heads straight through the line.  My sisters-in-law both dally in the back of the line looking at the magazine rack.  Register rings up the total and the clerk cheerfully lets me know the total (somewhere in the neighborhood of $70).  When I “ah-hem” loudly and ask if that is all they are getting, they cheerfully tune up with a “Oh, yes!” and head straight through the line.  I feel the blood rise in my face while I reach for my debit card to pay for all the stuff, including my hubby’s sister’s crap that had nothing to do with the baby shower.  If I had been asked to do it or even forewarned that it was going to happen, I would have been more prepared.  The blatant gall of it all just took me by surprise and totally floored me.

Oh, but we weren’t through yet.  The day of the shower, we went to the pizza parlor that this shower was going to take place in and started to decorate the area.  My hubby’s sis couldn’t help us decorate because she had to work that day.  She left us that morning of promises to help when she got off work (about an hour and a half before the grand event), but didn’t show up until after everything was set up.  My very pregnant sister-in-law couldn’t get up to hang decorations and none of us expected her to.  But, my mother-in-law sat down to keep her company while I was drafted volunteered to lay out the tablecloths, hang the banners, set up the balloons and place the centerpieces where they belonged.

I had a very tiring few days.  But it was a lovely party, if I do say so myself.  I did get paid back the money for the groceries after my husband got on his mother and sister’s case about it.  They told him that they had told me my brother-in-law would be paying me back (to which I called a “BS”, since they did no such thing).  You can imagine how wary I am whenever it is suggested that we come to a “family function”.  I don’t know how much of the “family” will be helping with the “function” and how much I am supposed to take care of.

B.W.