Tag Archives: medical advice

Some more advice

You should keep a fork in your purse. It’s very handy.

If you don’t carry a purse, you probably shouldn’t keep a fork in your pocket. There’s a high potential for injury. Maybe keep it in your glove compartment?

By the way, I’m not trying to turn this blog into an advice column. Unless you guys want to send me some questions. And you promise to never follow my advice, unless it happens to be really good.

So, in conclusion:

  1. Carry a fork.
  2. Jury’s still out on the advice column thing.

Have a wonderful Monday. Here’s hoping the icy weather happens early enough to prevent you from going to work, but late enough to allow you to get home from the bar the night before.



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Advice for teenage boys

When you give someone a dutch oven, you are also giving them unsupervised access to your balls.

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Laughter is the best medicine. But not in social situations. There, it’s more like the treatments on “House” that might work or might kill you.

I laugh a lot. I giggle, chuckle, throw my head back and erupt laughter. Life is funny. People are funny. But people don’t want you to think they’re funny. Unless they’re trying to be funny, which is usually not as funny as someone not trying to be funny.

So, in all my years of laughing a lot, I’ve discovered that if you laugh at someone who was being unintentionally funny, you need an excuse. They’ll turn around and say, “Are you laughing at me?” And you have to say, “No, I was laughing at a joke I heard earlier.” But then they ask, “Oh, what joke?” And you have to come up with a joke on the spot. So I keep one locked and loaded, ready to be used whenever I need it. It goes like this:

Q: What did one tampon say to the other tampon?

A: Nothing, they’re stuck up bitches.

Feel free to use it when you’re laughing at someone who’s just accidentally done something funny.

Anyone else have their own stock jokes for these situations?

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Thursday is the longest day of the week.

You may notice that I have a new title. I’m taking it for a test drive. Even though nobody voted for it (except me), and my husband thinks I’m far too lazy to have the title of Empress, I like it. I may try out the others later, or I may lose interest in this discussion altogether and leave Empress up out of half-laziness, half-absent-mindedness. (Interestingly, this mirrors my exact genetic makeup. I’m half lazy and half absent-minded. I never get anything done.)

By the way, don’t be hurt if I didn’t choose the one you voted for (or the one you thought to yourself, “Oh, I like that one,” but then you didn’t comment. Yeah. I know you did that. I see all).

See, the way I make decisions is, I narrow down my list of options, then I ask someone’s opinion to see what my reaction is.

Like, say I’m getting dressed for an event of some kind, but I can’t decide between my green dress or my white dress. I’ll ask my husband. And he’ll say, “I like them both.” And I’ll say, “No, you have to pick one.” Then he’ll say, “What about the red dress?” And I’ll say, ‘I can’t wear that out of the house, it’s too tight.” And he’ll say, “I think it looks good,” and he sort of leers when he says it. Then I stare blankly at him. So then he says, “Green,” but I can tell he’s just picking the one that’s closest to him, so I say, “No, really, pick one.” And then he starts telling me about some video game news that he read online today, and we get into a whole other conversation that lasts until it’s almost time to leave for whatever event we’re going to, and I still haven’t picked a dress, so I text one of my friends, and she says, “White.”

Here, one of two things can happen:

  1. I say, “Yeah, you’re right, white it is.”
  2. Or I say, “White? Really? But what about the green?”

Of course, I go with number 2, because the green dress is way more appropriate for this event (the white one is really a day dress), and I really wanted to wear the green one the whole time. But I didn’t know that until I asked someone else’s opinion and they disagreed.

So, basically, when I asked everyone’s opinion about the titles, and my husband called me a lazy bastard who’d never live up to the title of Empress (I’m paraphrasing), I realized that’s the title I wanted all along.

By the way, this post makes absolutely perfect sense. If you find it confusing, you probably have a brain tumor. You should get that checked.


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