"Oh, you two aren't together anymore? I still thought you were."
"No, we're not. It's been a little while now, actually."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't know--I don't like to be nosy."
"That's okay."
...
Sometimes (and I know I've said it before), ignorance is bliss. What do you need to know for?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Enders
You can't (well, you shouldn't) be in a relationship anymore when you being you doesn't make the other person happy. The whole "you're supposed to love them for who they are" needs to be upheld. And hey, it's okay if you fall out of love. It happens.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Gripping suspense
The continuation of the DeathGrip post was to carry on the family lineage. While my mother inherently has the DeathGrip, I do not.
You know how sometimes when you're rock-climbing and all you need to do to reach the next hand/leg hold is to grip the one hold really tightly and reach? Yeah--no grippage means no reach means thank goodness for safety ropes (my belayer!).
Or, you know when you're a kid playing tug-of-war and you have to hold onto the rope nice and tight to help your team pull and win? Yeah, no pull-age from me. Not because I'm not strong, but because I can't hold on to the dang rope.
Or, you know those stupid games where you're both supposed to squeeze each other's hands as hard as you can until one of you calls 'uncle'? Yeah, I never won.
Chin-ups? Nope.
While I can manage a firm enough handshake, I generally incur teasing from my peers whenever the topic of "how strong is your grip?" ever arises. Yeah, I'm a little ashamed...it's weak.
So apparently the DeathGrip was one trait I didn't inherit from my mother.
Or so I thought.
I was in bed the other night, sleeping, but apparently scratching my skin really badly. It was loud and vigorous enough for me to be nudged a few times to be encouraged to stop.
"Honey, *nudge* honey stop scratching."
And with that nudging, I did stop...only to turn semi-consciously snatch at the wrist that was nudging me, catch it, and squeeze.
Yes, it is true. I applied the DeathGrip in my sleep.
While it was never my intention to inflict pain, while I apologized profusely, while I felt bad for my semi-conscious act of violence, I have to say I was a little proud. So the lesson: don't mess with me (in my sleep) if you don't want to feel the wrath of the GRIP*.
...
Not to be confused with the Grippe. Just to be sure. ;)
You know how sometimes when you're rock-climbing and all you need to do to reach the next hand/leg hold is to grip the one hold really tightly and reach? Yeah--no grippage means no reach means thank goodness for safety ropes (my belayer!).
Or, you know when you're a kid playing tug-of-war and you have to hold onto the rope nice and tight to help your team pull and win? Yeah, no pull-age from me. Not because I'm not strong, but because I can't hold on to the dang rope.
Or, you know those stupid games where you're both supposed to squeeze each other's hands as hard as you can until one of you calls 'uncle'? Yeah, I never won.
Chin-ups? Nope.
While I can manage a firm enough handshake, I generally incur teasing from my peers whenever the topic of "how strong is your grip?" ever arises. Yeah, I'm a little ashamed...it's weak.
So apparently the DeathGrip was one trait I didn't inherit from my mother.
Or so I thought.
I was in bed the other night, sleeping, but apparently scratching my skin really badly. It was loud and vigorous enough for me to be nudged a few times to be encouraged to stop.
"Honey, *nudge* honey stop scratching."
And with that nudging, I did stop...only to turn semi-consciously snatch at the wrist that was nudging me, catch it, and squeeze.
Yes, it is true. I applied the DeathGrip in my sleep.
While it was never my intention to inflict pain, while I apologized profusely, while I felt bad for my semi-conscious act of violence, I have to say I was a little proud. So the lesson: don't mess with me (in my sleep) if you don't want to feel the wrath of the GRIP*.
...
Not to be confused with the Grippe. Just to be sure. ;)
Monday, June 08, 2009
Note
I just realized that my last post could have sounded like I lost all my blog archives...but no, those archives aren't empty. Boo understands. :)
Global not-Warming
It's June and it's freakin' 14 degrees outside. And probably going to rain. What the hell?
Friday, June 05, 2009
Deadlier than the DeathStar
Despite having our share of naughty-and-need-to-be-disciplined moments, my brother and I were never (well, maybe once each) spanked as children. Instead, my mother had the most menacing I-mean-business-by-the-time-I-count-to-three threat, and, the ever dreaded DeathGrip.
Now, this DeathGrip is exactly as it sounds: a grip that could grip you to death. All mom would have to do is grab you by the wrist, and SQUEEZE and you HAD to surrender. It was certainly an effective tool in public since most people would only see a mother holding her child at the wrist, and this child being totally (albeit suddenly) obedient to her mother's wishes.
Having grown-up since those good ol' days of having to go do public errands with mom, and having learned right from wrong and all that, I haven't had many encounters with the DeathGrip recently.
Except this one time...
(I really could have sworn I'd written about this, but according to my blog-searches, I haven't.)
A few years back, my mom discovered this game that Brodder or I had downloaded to the computer: Bejeweled. She discovered, learned how to play it, and then never stopped playing. Not that we were dependent on our mother anymore by this point, but she stayed up late, she stopped cooking, cleaning, she came straight home from work to play, and she didn't go out to do things anymore.
Brodder and I would tease her and such about getting help for her addiction and we'd all laugh, but really, she would be on the computer for hours at a time, playing this simple little game.
Finally, we decided to play a prank on her. Brodder and I--in a fit of giggles--created a text document that said in huge letters: STOP PLAYING AND DO SOME WORK! We then changed the icon for the document to be the Bejeweled one, and placed it in the spot where her REAL Bejeweled icon would be on the desktop. Then we waited.
I was the only one home that day when she returned from work. She came home and went straight to the computer to double click her favourite icon, only to find the message we'd lent to her. She turned to me since I'd been lurking about to get my laugh on, and giggled a moment.
"Ha ha ha, you guys are so funny. Where's my game?"
"hahahahahahaha, but mom, you're supposed to do work instead!"
"I will, after you put my game back."
"No, mom, this is for your own good."
"Put it back."
"No, mom, Brodder and I...OW!!!"
She sicced the DeathGrip on my wrist. She squeezed.
"Put. It. Back. Now."
"OKAY!!!"
I was nearly on my knees she'd been squeezing so hard. I restored the original icon back to its place on her desktop, and she went ahead with her usual "play for hours" routine. When I told Brodder what had happened, he both laughed and sympathized with me.
Lesson: Don't mess with the DeathGrip.
...
Fun Fact: DeathGrip is mom's Mii name on the Wii.
Now, this DeathGrip is exactly as it sounds: a grip that could grip you to death. All mom would have to do is grab you by the wrist, and SQUEEZE and you HAD to surrender. It was certainly an effective tool in public since most people would only see a mother holding her child at the wrist, and this child being totally (albeit suddenly) obedient to her mother's wishes.
Having grown-up since those good ol' days of having to go do public errands with mom, and having learned right from wrong and all that, I haven't had many encounters with the DeathGrip recently.
Except this one time...
(I really could have sworn I'd written about this, but according to my blog-searches, I haven't.)
A few years back, my mom discovered this game that Brodder or I had downloaded to the computer: Bejeweled. She discovered, learned how to play it, and then never stopped playing. Not that we were dependent on our mother anymore by this point, but she stayed up late, she stopped cooking, cleaning, she came straight home from work to play, and she didn't go out to do things anymore.
Brodder and I would tease her and such about getting help for her addiction and we'd all laugh, but really, she would be on the computer for hours at a time, playing this simple little game.
Finally, we decided to play a prank on her. Brodder and I--in a fit of giggles--created a text document that said in huge letters: STOP PLAYING AND DO SOME WORK! We then changed the icon for the document to be the Bejeweled one, and placed it in the spot where her REAL Bejeweled icon would be on the desktop. Then we waited.
I was the only one home that day when she returned from work. She came home and went straight to the computer to double click her favourite icon, only to find the message we'd lent to her. She turned to me since I'd been lurking about to get my laugh on, and giggled a moment.
"Ha ha ha, you guys are so funny. Where's my game?"
"hahahahahahaha, but mom, you're supposed to do work instead!"
"I will, after you put my game back."
"No, mom, this is for your own good."
"Put it back."
"No, mom, Brodder and I...OW!!!"
She sicced the DeathGrip on my wrist. She squeezed.
"Put. It. Back. Now."
"OKAY!!!"
I was nearly on my knees she'd been squeezing so hard. I restored the original icon back to its place on her desktop, and she went ahead with her usual "play for hours" routine. When I told Brodder what had happened, he both laughed and sympathized with me.
Lesson: Don't mess with the DeathGrip.
...
Fun Fact: DeathGrip is mom's Mii name on the Wii.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
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