This just in...our local police station had all of its toilets stolen.
Police have nothing to go on.
*Okay, I read it in Reader's Digest....but it cracked me up. I'm easily amused.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Viva Mexico!
Well, it's vacation time. Mexico this year (if we ever get our passports that is... read my blog entry titled National Passport Hotline for a glimpse into the reality of trying to call the National Passport Hotline).
Getting ready for a trip in our house goes something like this: I start making lists approximately two months in advance. I purchase new underwear for the whole family 6 weeks early. The neighbors are informed, the goats get manicures, the plants get automatic feeders stuck in their roots. The children get haircuts, the house gets steam-cleaned, the house-sitter gets four hundred and thirty-two pages of instructions on how to take care of the house, the animals and the attack Doberman that we always rent when we leave town. (This translates into, "Don't bother trying to come over and steal our finest Saran-Wrap and/or one of the twins. The Doberman can make it to the fence in three seconds.)
So I haven't slept in two months. I have extensive packing check-off sheets for the family. The dogs are bathed, the goats are brushed, the floor is shiny, our paperwork and tickets are in order, we have six bottles of sunscreen available and I have twelve years' worth of snacks in my carry-on. Now here's where it gets interesting:
Four hours before we leave for the airport, the husband opens his suitcase. He throws in six pairs of shorts, shirts and underwear. He closes the suitcase and announces, "Let's go!"
The pre-teen daughter walks in with fourteen chapsticks and lip glosses in fun and fruity flavors and cries, "I don't have any GOOD lip stuff! I'm NOT GOING!"
The teenage boy shuffles in with a bag containing a bathing suit, three socks and a Game Boy, and wants to know when we eat.
The twins are upset because they aren't going, and threaten to eat all of my flowers while we're gone if we don't bring them back t shirts that say, "MY PARENTS WENT TO MEXICO AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T SHIRT".
I contemplate going alone. But I'm afraid to leave them all in the house if I'm not here. So we're off like a dirty shirt. Or a band of Gypsies. Or whatever. Mexico has no idea what's coming.
Getting ready for a trip in our house goes something like this: I start making lists approximately two months in advance. I purchase new underwear for the whole family 6 weeks early. The neighbors are informed, the goats get manicures, the plants get automatic feeders stuck in their roots. The children get haircuts, the house gets steam-cleaned, the house-sitter gets four hundred and thirty-two pages of instructions on how to take care of the house, the animals and the attack Doberman that we always rent when we leave town. (This translates into, "Don't bother trying to come over and steal our finest Saran-Wrap and/or one of the twins. The Doberman can make it to the fence in three seconds.)
So I haven't slept in two months. I have extensive packing check-off sheets for the family. The dogs are bathed, the goats are brushed, the floor is shiny, our paperwork and tickets are in order, we have six bottles of sunscreen available and I have twelve years' worth of snacks in my carry-on. Now here's where it gets interesting:
Four hours before we leave for the airport, the husband opens his suitcase. He throws in six pairs of shorts, shirts and underwear. He closes the suitcase and announces, "Let's go!"
The pre-teen daughter walks in with fourteen chapsticks and lip glosses in fun and fruity flavors and cries, "I don't have any GOOD lip stuff! I'm NOT GOING!"
The teenage boy shuffles in with a bag containing a bathing suit, three socks and a Game Boy, and wants to know when we eat.
The twins are upset because they aren't going, and threaten to eat all of my flowers while we're gone if we don't bring them back t shirts that say, "MY PARENTS WENT TO MEXICO AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T SHIRT".
I contemplate going alone. But I'm afraid to leave them all in the house if I'm not here. So we're off like a dirty shirt. Or a band of Gypsies. Or whatever. Mexico has no idea what's coming.
Monday, June 18, 2007
National Passport Hotline
Thank you for calling the National Passport Hotline. For English, press one.
Para Espanol, prensa dos.
To be immediately hung up on, press three.
To save heartache and just do it yourself, press four.
To listen to forty-one minutes of terrible classical music followed by complete dead silence, leaving you to stare at the phone and repeatedly say, "Hello? Am I still on hold?" press five.
To hear a very bland man announce that if you are not traveling in the next few weeks, there is NO NEED TO WORRY, press six.
To hear the rest of his statement which is, "Don't bother worrying, it won't change the fact that your passport isn't coming", press seven.
To hear the announcement that you may now travel to Mexico, Canada, and the Caribbean with your Government- issued ID and, in Mexico's case, a certified birth certificate, press eight.
To hear snickering because we not only have your passport, but also your birth certificate, press nine.
To hear your mother's voice scolding you that "You should have planned ahead!", press ten.
To hear the ocean waves that you may miss while waiting for your passport, press eleven.
To begin unpacking to the tune of, "You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me, Lucille", press twelve.
To hear all of the above options, press thirteen. At the conclusion of the announcements, you will hear a recording telling you that your call is very important and please stay on the li.....
*click*
Para Espanol, prensa dos.
To be immediately hung up on, press three.
To save heartache and just do it yourself, press four.
To listen to forty-one minutes of terrible classical music followed by complete dead silence, leaving you to stare at the phone and repeatedly say, "Hello? Am I still on hold?" press five.
To hear a very bland man announce that if you are not traveling in the next few weeks, there is NO NEED TO WORRY, press six.
To hear the rest of his statement which is, "Don't bother worrying, it won't change the fact that your passport isn't coming", press seven.
To hear the announcement that you may now travel to Mexico, Canada, and the Caribbean with your Government- issued ID and, in Mexico's case, a certified birth certificate, press eight.
To hear snickering because we not only have your passport, but also your birth certificate, press nine.
To hear your mother's voice scolding you that "You should have planned ahead!", press ten.
To hear the ocean waves that you may miss while waiting for your passport, press eleven.
To begin unpacking to the tune of, "You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me, Lucille", press twelve.
To hear all of the above options, press thirteen. At the conclusion of the announcements, you will hear a recording telling you that your call is very important and please stay on the li.....
*click*
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