And the Winner is...

ME! I won the coveted Meme Award!

My first Blogger Award.

Here it is! Ain't it great?!

I received word of it when I was busy with Hank Torgit and Babette, so I let the award sit in the corner for a week. Then, when they left, I had to study for a big-ass test I took yesterday, so I let the award sit some more. Then, I fell in love with Muesli and totally forgot about the award.

But this morning I remembered! And it was like having my birthday all over again!

I won! Thank you Cat Lady! I am really touched and honored and only a little bit annoyed that I now have to divulge 7 quirky personality traits to the world in order to receive this award. I am a very private person. I am not the kind of person who goes around typing things up about myself for the world to see.

What the hell am I talking about? I am just that kind of person.

So here it is: 7 quirky personality traits-

1. I can miss the obvious. Example- I have worked with kids my entire adult life, and just recently I realized that the reason they are so cute is because they have very big heads relative to the size of their bodies. Has anyone else noticed this?

2. I love having someone to hate. Life is better when I have a villain in the picture. Then I can rant and rave about my villain and blame everything on him/her.

3. I can be a bit superstitious. Yesterday, I felt ready for my exam because I wore my good luck underwear, didn't shower in order to keep the good luck dirt on me and was delighted when I took a great big good luck dump before leaving the house.

4. I like soup. Is that a personality trait? I think so.

5. I second guess myself sometimes.

6. I am shy. Seriously. I know it doesn't seem that way but that is only because I know you so well and am really comfortable around you.

7. I am not a born risk taker. But I am learning that in order to really live fully, you have to take risks sometimes.

Seven traits revealed, I now get to pass the award to seven worthy bloggers. So now, without further ado, I bequeath to the following, the prestigious Meme Award.

1. Hawaiian Pun over at Write in the Kisser. He was the first stranger to write something encouraging about my blog. And he is really funny.

2. Steamy at Steam Me Up Kid because she used the transitive property in a post once. That is worth an award. She is pretty much brilliant.

3. Hank Torgit at The Midwest Palace. You should visit his blog and read the posts about bugs. But don't get too attached. Hank Torgit has been on a very long blog haitus. This is a real loss for all of us. He is really funny. And he is my brother.

4. Chris at Margueritaville because he is a principal at a school and he uses the f word in his posts. Plus he is an amazing story teller and he is really funny.

5. Gwen at Everything I Like Causes Cancer because I got a really great tea recipe from her. And then I discovered that she is hilarious.

6. Spudballoo at Chez Spud because I have to make it up to her because I keep making her spit wine onto her computer screen. I think that this may be her second Meme, but she deserves it. She has a beautiful blog.

7. B at Cuttings On A Blog because she inspires me.

And there you have it! Thanks again Cat Lady!!

Go ahead and click on the teeny envelope icon and send this post to a friend. Don't be jerky and claim that you wrote it because I wrote it, damn it.

An Open Letter to Muesli

Dear Muesli,

Today I tried you for the very first time and after one bite I asked myself this question- where have you been my entire life? I find it hard to believe that you were invented in the late 1800's by a Swiss nutritionist and we have only now met. Seriously, some of my best friends are Swiss nutritionists and none of them ever mentioned you. But honestly, had I met you before, the timing would have been all wrong. I used to be so close minded about porridge that I would have written you off as a tasteless twig gruel. But you are so far from that. You have won my heart you delightful cereal made from a blend of whole grains, dried fruits, nuts and seeds. How did I survive without you?

It is hard to believe that it is possible to have such strong feelings about whole grain rolled oats, wheat, rye, triticale and barley along with sweet and chewy dates and raisins, sunflower seeds, almonds and walnuts. And I have only tried you hot. Imagine if I also try you cold or as you so boldly suggest, what if I try you right out of the bag? Being able to give into my desire so quickly and easily might make it difficult for me to concentrate on other things. I would want you around all the time. You suggest three servings of whole grains a day, but how could I stop at that? What's more is that I just learned that I could make cookies or bars out of you. Be still my heart. I love cookies and bars. This is a match made in heaven.

I don't even know what triticale is, but it hardly matters. It might be rat poison or something, but, if so, it is delicious rat poison and I love it. See how tightly I am clutching onto the bag?

Don't even think about taking my delicious rat poison away. Get away from me, jerk. I will bite you. Hard.

Uh, sorry about that. Now where was I? Oh yes. I was about to tell you something. This isn't easy for me to say. I know that I must sound crazy and I know we just met, but Muesli, I have never been more lucid or serious in my entire life.

Muesli, what I want to tell you is that I love you.


Sondra Stinglash

P.S. It isn't rat poison is it?

Go ahead and click on the teeny envelope icon and send this post to a friend. Don't be jerky and claim that you wrote it because I wrote it, damn it.

Happy Birthday To Me!

It's my birthday all day long today!

Socrates said that an unexamined life isn't worth living. Therefore, in honor of my birthday and to also sound smart by including a quote from Socrates in my post, I will reflect on the year. (That is the same as examining, rendering my life worth living, at least for this past year.)

During this past year of my life, in no particular order, I:

  • Started writing a humor blog. At the time I didn't even know that humor blogging was a thing. In fact, I was pretty sure that I was the first one to do it. Here I go, I thought to myself as I typed, being super innovative, once again. All of this inventive genius flowing out of me all the time can get a little bit boring for me. Same old, same old brilliant mind. Sigh. Obviously, I knew nothing. Turns out there are more than a few way-funny humor writers out there in the blog-o-sphere (a term I coined), most of whom started writing well before I did, so they aren't copying off me or anything. (Or at least it would be difficult to prove in a court of law.) Hats off to those bloggers who make me so jealous that I become despondent, go without eating for days, refusing to take my bloodied hands off my keyboard who inspire and delight with their brilliant posts.
  • Graduated from massage school and most impressively I did so without the help of a palpation slave. I still wish I had one though so I could use them to brush up on my muscles when I get the urge, as in, "that dinner was sure delicious, and now I would like nothing better but to palpate the attachment sites for the piriformus muscle. Someone fetch me my palpation slave." Sadly, however, I made the mistake of posting a description of the room in the basement dirtroom wine cellar the guestroom where the palpation slave would stay and now I can abandon all hope of anyone answering my ad. (Take part in the poll- would YOU stay the night there?)

  • Started a serious blog, due to a case of acute clown disease. (Why doesn't anyone take me seriously?)

  • Won a blogger's award from the Cat Lady. Visit her site; you will be inspired and delighted, but be warned- her site is 100% cat-free. You can look forward to my claiming the award and passing it on to other fine bloggers, sometime very, very soon.

Goodbye dear friends. Reflecting done with, I am off to bandage my fingers drink myself silly celebrate and rejoice with my loved ones! Enjoy your day, even though it won't be nearly as good as mine, on account of it isn't your birthday.

Go ahead and click on the teeny envelope icon and send this post to a friend. Don't be jerky and claim that you wrote it because I wrote it, damn it.

The Guest Room

I have family in town and you know what that means- the perfect opportunity to scare the crap out of someone! If you're like me, you enjoy a good practical joke that scars for life, like the time my brother was in town and I got really sick and had to be taken to the hospital and when we got home, I hid outside and my brother told my 6 year old son that I had died and then when he was registering the news and getting all teary, I jumped up and twisted my face all up against the window and made crazy zombie sounds. That was hilarious. Over the next five years there was a lot of bed-wetting around our house, but it was totally worth it.

So the other night, my brother, Hank Torgit, and his girlfriend, Babette, were due at the airport at midnight. While we were awaiting their arrival, we cooked up a plan that had us giggling for about an hour. I have an older house and in the basement there is a root cellar that has a bunch of wine racks so it could be called a wine cellar except there is no wine in there on account that who wants to store wine in the cellar when you could be drinking it? Calling the room a wine cellar makes it sound nice- as if we are the kind of people who shop out of the little Sky Mall Catalogue. But the wine cellar is not nice. It's creepy. It has a cement floor, I think, but the walls seem to be leaking dirt, so when my brother called and said, "Babette is a little worried about the accommodations, let's make her think we are going to have to sleep in the dirt room," I knew exactly what room he was referring to. "You mean the guest room," was my reply. "I'm on it." Lots of giggling later, and we had cozied up the room a bit. Two old pillows that I have been meaning to throw away and an old sleeping bag on the floor- we toyed with placing a pot in the room and telling Babette that our plumbing was broken, so they would have to use the pot, but the basement bathroom is scanky enough so we didn't really need to go over the top with the whole you have to shit in a pot and then dump it outside routine.

As you can imagine, after traveling the whole day and arriving after midnight, my brother and his girlfriend were tired and were looking forward to a nice cozy bed. We led them and their luggage downstairs and opened the door.

The door. It has a peephole and it locks from the outside. It is also decorated with grapes. That is because of this:

The wine rack. Empty. Who keeps wine around when it is so good to drink?

The wine rack isn't what someone might notice at first. At first they would probably notice this:

This is what made me understand what Hank Torgit meant by "the dirt room."

But honestly the dirt really isn't that noticable. It is sort of upstaged by the rest of the room.

The only thing that would be worse I think is if the remains of the last guest were in the corner.

Yes. That would be worse.

So Babette went into the guest room and put down her bags. And you know what? She took it totally in stride. She didn't freak out or anything. Meanwhile, I am in the opposite corner of the basement, biting my cheeks and hyperventilating. (I am a terrible actress- I can't hold in my laughter for beans.) Finally, my brother starts laughing and the gig is up. Except Babette is totally nonplussed. No reaction.

Except for in the morning I found out that the real reason she was so nonchalant about the room is that when she saw it she sped through Kubler Ross's stages of grief, straight to acceptance. As she looked around and took in the accommodations- the dirt floor, the cobwebs, the crumbling walls, she felt a sense of relief that her imminent death meant that she would only have to spend one night there.

Go ahead and click on the teeny envelope icon and send this post to a friend. Don't be jerky and claim that you wrote it because I wrote it, damn it. But, you SHOULD totally try this joke on your family.

Love Goodluck

Here is a copy of an e-mail that just showed up in my inbox from one Miss Anita Goodluck.

Hello My dear one
How are you? i hope all is well with you, i hope you may not know me, and i don't know who you are, My Name is Miss Anita goodluck, i am just broswing now i just saw your Email it seams like some thing touches me all over my body, i started having some feelings in me which i have never experience in me before, so i became interested in you, l will also like to know you the more,and l want you to send an email. so l can give you my picture for you to know whom l am. I believe we can move from here! I am waiting for your mail to my email address above. (Remeber the distance or colour does not matter but love matters alot in life)
miss Anita

I hate to break Miss Anita's heart, but I just don't see this happening. I just don't get that same warm touching me all over my body feeling from her e-mail as she got from mine (What email was that anyway?). I briefly toyed with writing back to let her know that although we have never met when I got her most eloquent e-mail I was touched deeply inside and felt as though I had known her my entire life and I know that this is awfully quick but I simply had to act because I had such a strong feeling that I couldn't shake that I needed to immediately sell my house and liquidate all my assets in order to give her all my money and then gay marry her in a small but beautiful outdoor ceremony surrounded by our close friends and family, but then I thought better of it. This is the first scam mail I have gotten at that particular e-mail address and I don't want more pouring in, even to entertain you, dear reader.

But have a told you that when you comment on my posts it seams like some thing touches me all over my body and i started having some feelings in me which i have never experience in me before?

Go ahead and click on the teeny envelope icon and send this post to a friend. Don't be jerky and claim that you wrote it because I wrote it, damn it.  Except for the part written by Anita Goodluck; I seriously have no problem if you claim that you wrote that.  

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