Category Archives: Goofy Stuff

Tape Convention

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This was the first blog post I ever wrote. Originally published August 26, 2008 to launch my ‘I’m Just Sayin’ blog.

Here’s something funny. Or sad. Or both.

My daughter’s flight comes in around 5pm tonight and I’m going to pick her up, so late last night I scribbled myself a note that said “tape convention tomorrow” because I didn’t want to miss Michelle Obama or any part of the Democratic National Convention. When I got up this morning, I stared at it for about 20 seconds wondering where was this Tape Convention I’m going to today, and why couldn’t I remember signing up for it.

In my defense, it was before I had my coffee.

I wonder what kind of workshops they have at the Tape Convention.
Motivational …. “Stick to It!”
Educational …. “Masking and Scotch — the Difference is Clear!”
How-To …. “Sticky Side Down, Except When Dealing with VHS”

What seminars or workshops would YOU like to see at a Tape Convention?

Privy To Privies

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I am everyone’s best friend, which means I know stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff about you. Stuff about me. Embarrassing stuff. Funny stuff. Incredibly useful stuff.

Like smartphone apps that tell you where the nearest restroom is. If you’ve ever been to Manhattan, you probably know all about the Enjoy The Go ‘store’ that Charmin set up. (They have my undying gratitude, btw.) But what if you’re in Denver or Des Moines or Dallas, or anywhere that doesn’t start with a D?

That’s where the free app WhereToWee.com comes in.

Number 1 [giggle] … it works anywhere in the world, and Number 2 [gigglegiggle] … users rate the cleanliness of each restroom. You can’t tell me that’s not a godsend.

The other incredibly useful wee app I’m reminding you about is one I mentioned a few years back. RunPee.com tells you when to run to the restroom during a movie.

Here’s what the website says:

run pee

The app is simple even though spelling is a challenge. Here’s an example from the movie Cloud Atlas, which is almost 3 hours long.

Cloud Atlas

“Peetimes.” Such a great, useful word.

If you ever find yourself at peetime needing a restroom, I hope you’re near one of these finalists in the Best Public Restroom competitions. You can check out the top contestants going (see what I did there?) all the way back to 2002.

It’s a simple thing, but gosh, so important. Incredibly useful, am I right? You’re welcome!

Are you one of those annoying people who can’t sit through an entire movie? Yeah, me too. Netflix understands me, though.

Mile High Flea Market

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A treasure trove of weirdness and kitsch lives year-round at the Mile High Flea Market in Denver. Treasure. Trove. Here are some of my recent finds.

I didn’t see a single if or and. Only these …

plenty of buts

I always thought alligator boots were called that because of what they were made of, not because they were shaped like alligators. I also never knew alligators came in such dazzling colors. I learn new things every day. I’m like a sponge.

pointy toes

I saw the ugliest baby in the world. Sadly, he was abandoned.

ugly baby

Some people are too literal for their own good.

literally

“Mom, the lamp ran away again. And it’s shedding.”

the lamp is shedding

Favorite? Which would you like in your house?

Gargoyles

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Twenty-nine years ago I was a student in Winchester, England. It afforded me a fabulous opportunity to travel around much of Great Britain and Paris.

Here I am at Loch Ness in Scotland in front of the eerily gorgeous Urquhart Castle.

203 Urquhart Castle

I became enamored with a lot of things while in the UK … tea with fresh cream delivered in the wee hours if you left 20-pence on the stoop, a hearty pint at the pub, pubs, fish-and-chips wrapped in paper to eat on the go, train travel, £10 theatre tickets, bed-and-breakfast inns, and so much more.

But gargoyles fascinated me. I took photos of every one I stumbled upon. And there were many.

This one in Norwich at the top of the downspout …

5 Gargoyle Downspout in Norwich

These at the top of Notre Dame in Paris …

gargoyle1

gargoyle2

gargoyle 3

gargoyle4

gargoyle5

gargoyle6

girlgoyles

Oops. Those are the girlgoyles I lived with.

This one isn’t technically a gargoyle, but it’s one of my favorite pictures. I love the marriage of old and new here in Salisbury …

92 Salisbury71

I was reminded recently of my love of gargoyles when picking up my son at the airport in Denver. Next time you’re there, take some time to investigate the nooks and crannies of this gorgeous airport. This guy keeps an eye on baggage claim …

DIA gargoyle

But he won’t listen to you complain.

Do you like gargoyles? Where’s your favorite?

Soap is Complicated

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This is the soap I use every day in the shower. (Okay, most days. Sometimes I blog instead.)

See how it’s almost empty? Just yesterday I noticed the “To Use” instructions. Imagine my surprise that I’ve been doing it all wrong!

If you can’t read it, it says: “Squeeze body wash onto a wet pouf or wash cloth and work into a rich, creamy lather. Rinse.”

I don’t have a wet pouf and, in fact, haven’t even seen one since Liberace and I were on the synchronized swimming team. (Ba duh bump. I’m here all week, folks.)

I just use my hands to lather up, which is fortuitous because the rest of the instructions read, “May also be used as a hand wash.” Whew.

I’m desperately wondering what other tricks my soap can do. Any ideas?

Made It Pretty Or At Least Useful

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I forgot to tell you what I decided about my bakers rack. At least for now.

I got some really good ideas on the post where I asked for design help but they weren’t quite right. For instance, wine glasses and decorative bottles would be lovely, but sometimes our nest isn’t empty and I’d worry that they’d break. But mostly I’d worry that I’d have to dust.

Placing my cookbooks there is an excellent idea, except that my cookbooks are either freakishly ugly or freakishly embarrassing. (Deep-Fry Cookery? The Peanut Butter Diet? The Dumpling Cookbook? I’m truly ashamed. And hungry.)

I’m a whimsical gal, so I was intrigued by using Barbies to stage the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. It had great potential, but my Barbie is missing a leg and the closest I could get to Shakesperian garb was her stewardess outfit. Besides, my hubbie won’t let me play with his GI Joe. (Note above comment about Barbie’s missing leg.)

So I settled on this …

The two wooden dealibobs up top are gifts from my sons … the vase from Guam, the mug from Okinawa. The fruit basket is new and I dropped one of my red bowls in it for the big stuff, but the small or squishy stuff — tangerines, heads of garlic, kiwis, avocados — fits in the basket on the rack. The digital frame runs day and night, and the placemat is one that my mother-in-law had when they lived in Africa.

The stained-glass heart was also a gift, and the bottle opener is, um, self-explanatory. The empty hooks remain because, well, I’m lazy that way.

So, functional and decorative and that’s how it will remain until I either get some prettier cookbooks or until Barbie grows her leg back.

What do you think? You likey?

The Birds

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What compels a herd of a gazillion black birds with irridescent green necks — and one sparrow — to suddenly land in my yard?

I know you think the collective noun for birds is “flock” but the operative word in that sentence was “gazillion.” A gazillion of anything is a herd, regardless of genus or species.

But back to my question. Why? Why now? Why my yard? Why so many? Why only one sparrow?

On nature shows I’ve seen cooperative fishing expeditions by certain types of fish. (I can’t tell you what kind of fish, however, because I’m 50 and I refuse to remember any more facts. There was a time when I tried to remember facts, naively certain such a skill would come in handy at parties. It never did, so my new conversational skill is “making things up.”)

I’ve also seen how a pride of lions can work together chasing down one gazelle at the food court whom they then tease mercilessly about her skinny legs and unibrow until she hollers “Uncle!” (I think that’s how it happened. See note about fact refusal above.)

But these birds are selfish. They don’t share their worm bounty with their winged brethren. So I’m wondering about their great numbers and motivation.

Bird One: Hey Louie … you gonna add that worm to our stew?

Louie: Nah.

Bird One: Why not? You making a potion to kill all the cats around here?

Louie: Nah.

Bird One: Then what are you doing with your worms?

Louie: Just messin’ with that buttinski lady drinking margaritas on her deck.

Of course, the most Hitchcockian thing about it is when, for no discernible reason, they all fly away at once sounding like a  rest stop hand dryer with loose bolts.

Oh, I know. Bird flash mob. And me without my videocamera.

What are the other possibilities?

UPDATE: They’re actually Grackles. They’re quite shimmery and lovely but they make an annoying noise … much like their name.

 

 


Clocks

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If you’ve spent any time at all in BeckyLand, you’ll know I have three grown kids.

The oldest, my beautiful and exceptionally talented writerdaughter (yes, one word — the same way a firetruck can only be one thing, so it is true for her), lives and works in Oregon. She’s my go-to editor and first reader. Pretty sure she knows everything about grammar and story construction. And I’m going to pimp her business here, because this pleases me to the depths of my soul. She’s The Essay Doctor — helping novelists, students and business people with anything they do involving words. (TheEssayDoc (at) aol (dot) com)

The youngest is a Master at Arms in the Navy, stationed on Guam. MAs are what the Navy calls their police force and my kiddo made his first arrest recently. All my kids are gorgeous and funny as hell and this one regales me with hilarious cop and Navy stories all the time. But they all try to keep the heart-stopping ones to a minimum, for which I’m grateful.

My middle guy is a Navy Corpsman, stationed in Okinawa. He’s the unlikeliest of medical providers, owing to his hair-trigger gag reflex as a child. If I ate a banana with a bruise, he’d gag. It’s a testament to what a truly dedicated medic he has turned into. He delivered a baby in the back of his ambulance all by himself and there was no gagging at all. Remarkable.

He was home on leave recently and bought me a present. Three presents, to be precise. I am somewhat flummoxed by simple things like cake mixes, ATMs, and gas grills. The instructions are either too simple or too complicated. Or both.

But the worst for me is time zones. I can never remember what time or day my kids are living in and they constantly tease me about it. So before he left to go back to Okinawa, he presented me with these for my office wall …

What time is it where you are? Have your kids turned into remarkable people yet?