Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

I participated in the very first Twitter #gtchat yesterday. Both of them, actually. And…learned that they’re a lot more fun when you have your Twitter settings on public because then people hear you when you talk. My dark technology karma continues. Live and learn, Jen, live and learn. So if you are here from #gtchat, welcome! Glad you came by. I do have to warn you, however, that I do not write exclusively on giftedness and twice-exceptionalities. I mean, I suppose I could, but I’m fairly certain I’d go insane rather quickly. Long walk off a short pier sort of thing. I can’t write completely about 2e for the same reason that I have a huge library of books on giftedness/intensities/2e/ADHD, and have read very few of them. By the time I get the peace I need to read and concentrate, the last thing I want to do is read about the craziness that has me craving that very peace and concentration. So I crawl into bed with the latest Funny Times, laugh, and have more pleasant dreams.

So no 2e today, just random laughs. While the search terms bringing people here aren’t nearly as funny as some, still I sometimes look at the phrase and wonder just what the hell is going on in the world, and why people thought the answers would be found here.

• why am i ageing so fast
  Well, going out on a limb here, but if you have kids, there’s your answer. Want to age faster? I’ll send you mine. My hair can’t handle much more covering the gray coloring enhancement.
• adult projectile poop
  Please, whoever you are, stay away from my house. My sons are finally to the “wiping their own butts” age, and I can throw the dog outside if she poops on the floor. I have enough shit in my life, I need no help from you. Oh, and good luck with that. Might want to add some fiber to your diet.
• blogging sites for kids/kids blogging sites/kids blogging websites
  I get an amazing amount of hits on this. If I knew what I was doing, I’d start a blogging platform for kids, but I can barely run my own blog, so that’s out for a future career. But I totally know what I’d love to see on a kids’ blogging platform, so if anyone out there wants to partner up, I’m your gal. In the meantime, I recommend a Blogger site and protect the absolute hell out of it.
• Intuniv
  Oh, the hits just keep on comin’! Every day there is at least one new search on Intuniv and my heart just breaks. I know the person searching is likely a parent trying to get some answers or figure out if the new ADHD would work for his/her kid. Chewing it? Yes, your kid will likely be fine if he chews it. He’ll enjoy the gag-inducing flavor of a drug not meant to be chewed, but it can be done without your child growing a third arm. Why must you wean slowly off Intuniv? Because it’s essentially a blood pressure lowering drug, and if you simply stop, the kid’s blood pressure will shoot through the roof as a rebound. At least that’s how I understood it when A’s doctor explained it. No longer working? Sorry to hear that. Apparently the perfect ADHD drug is still a myth.

Crap. That was a 2e-related note. I’ll try harder…

• tripitis sex
  Is this supposed to be “triplets” or “trapeze?” A new gender? Is it contagious? And seriously, how’d you end up here? Bet you were disappointed as hell!
• tiruba tuba
  Knowing tuba players, you might want to hook up with the tripitis sex searcher. You likely have a lot in common.
• full moon and adhd
  Yes, yes, and yes. And also the answer to why you’re aging so fast.

Oh, and did you know the evil rob0ts are after us again? Yeah, so say the boys. And gummy bears are chasing them too. Sounds like a bad LSD trip, but is just a Saturday of imaginative play. Uh-oh! The ship is about to blast off, J went through the airlock, and A is now controlling the robots’ minds. Good times, good times.

Or…Dear Penthouse, I never thought this could happen to me…

It’s no secret that the last few weeks have been off the charts stressful here in the House of Chaos. I’ve moved past laugh to keep from screaming to drink to drown the hysterics that will frighten dogs and small children and land me in a quiet padded room. Our health insurance went up eleventy billion dollars for less coverage, we’re looking at a significant salary drop this year, I’m trying to find some sort of gainful employment, one son is struggling in school, the other has become a juicy grape and is w(h)ining non-stop, together they are attempting to break all records for MAKING THEIR PARENTS LOSE THEIR SHIT IN FIVE SECONDS OR LESS, I overdid it at cardio fit yesterday and am so sore that I’m typing this with my tongue, and the dog has toxic farts from hell that the Department of Defense is studying as a possible new weapon of mass destruction. Oh, and it’s a three-day weekend.

The only thing keeping the adults in this house from sitting in the corner, rocking and sucking thumbs is the dog would come over for a belly rub and land a silent-but-deadly, burning off all skin and hair and rendering us unconscious, as well as deaf, blind, and mute.

We decided to have a quiet day at home today. No church, hang out, do some planning for the week. Just a nice.quiet.day.

Oops.

With the particular set of children we have, there’s not a lot of opportunity for gettin’ busy “private adult time.” Even though they’re in bed on the early side, they stay up reading until they pass out from exhaustion, then are up at the crack of dawn. If we wait for some boom chicka wah wah “private adult time” until after they’re certainly asleep, we’re too tired to knock boots for anything and we pass out instantly. So the occasional Sunday morning pickle tickle “private adult time” rocks. We set the boys up with something and disappear. Unfortunately, A is grounded from anything with a screen this weekend for his little “play with Daddy’s phone and accidentally call his boss in the middle of the night” stunt (gets better: said boss was sick with the flu when he called. Sigh), so we left the boys eating breakfast.

Oops.

A muffled crash. Me: Let’s pretend we didn’t hear that.

Oops.

I need to invent some sort of portable, concrete doorway barrier for parents wanting to get it on some “private adult time.” Preferably something with klaxon horn alarms, spikes, fire hoses, and rabid dogs. The locked door and laundry basket wedged under the doorknob only served to slow A from barreling into the room to tell us that he dropped his juice glass and it shattered. The dog snuck in at that point. And stayed. After shooing the child, relocking the door and jumping back on the express bus to Funkytown returning to some “private adult time,” the dog informed us that she wanted in on the action by attempting to jump on the bed. Repeatedly. The phone rang and was answered by a child, who came back up to inform us that some friends were on their way over. The juice in question was grape. It hit the carpet. And the boys were cleaning up the broken glass…in bare feet.

It was a less-than-satisfying dance between the sheets “private adult time,” all before 11 am. All we could do was laugh. And look at one another and laugh some more, to the point of much needed hysterical tears. In retrospect, we should have just stayed in the shower. Two and a half hours later, no questions yet from A. Those will come either in front of some guests or the Pastor next week, if he asks where we were today. Proof positive that we have not an angry or vengeful God, just one who needs a good laugh like the rest of us now and again (to wit: gonna skip out on a Sunday morning? Ok, let’s try this on for size!).

Are you having a nice, quiet day? What’s that like?