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Things I Just Don’t Understand

This isn’t about anti-matter, Morgellon’s disease, the elusive monopole or other mysterious terms people throw out to sound smart. These are just ordinary, daily things that make NO sense to me. Maybe you can help clarify.

Why do people at Wal-Mart shuffle their feet? No one strides through Wal-Mart or briskly scans the aisles; it’s a sloth-like, death march, with many Wal-Martians leaning against the hand-rail of the shopping cart, looking like malaria victims.

(This is also beyond my understanding. In so many ways.)

Wood pencils that have the phrase “Save the Trees.”
Why Newt Gingrich is still running for the GOP nomination. As Jimmy Kimmel said, “Newt puts the “hippo” in “hypocrite.”
Why religious sects continue to fight about whose God is the best. Isn’t that like arguing over which imaginary friend is the strongest?

(And the Lord spake, saying, “First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.”)

Why are Girl Scout cookies only sold once a year? Do employees at Little Brownie Bakers only work three months a year–and then they’re off for the year with full-pay and all the Samoas they can eat? And where can I apply?
Why do women wax, shave, exfoliate, cleanse, moisturize and mask? Men only shave. Sometimes.
Speaking of grooming, why does shampoo come with operating instructions?

(Do people often get these steps confused?)

Why haven’t men learn to read minds? They’ve had thousands of years of evolution to do this. On the other hand, women have read men’s minds for millenia. That’s why women are usually pissed off.
Why do teenagers insist on walking SLOWLY down the center of the street? Maybe they’re practicing for a trip to Wal-Mart. (If they’re going to walk in the road, they could at least hop around so I can pretend we’re playing Frogger.)

Top 5 Reasons Writing Sucks

I’ve been writing since I learned to eat a pencil eraser. I moved on from chewing pencils to eating pen caps, sniffing markers and giving myself ink tattoos with a Bic during history class. Then came “typing,” “keyboarding” or whatever the hell it’s called today.

(Remember typing so fast the keys stuck? Yeah, I’m that old.)

I learned to type on the very first typewriter carried to this continent by Leif Ericson and his band of merry Norsemen. It sucked. But the more technology has developed to help me write, the harder writing seems to be. I’ve been a “professional” writer for 10 years and there are days I LOVE it (the days I’m on my meds) and days I hate it (every other day). Here are the Top 5 Reasons Writing Sucks:

1. Content Limit: There are only so many words in the dictionary and only so many ways to arrange those words. So, unless I start writing in Russian or Greek, I need to maximize 26 letters in a way no one has ever done before. No pressure there. And Shakespeare already used the best one-liners. But, then again, even monkeys could write a novel if given enough time—look at Sarah Palin.

(Maybe she’d like a ghost writer for her next book.)

2. People are easily offended: If anything in the previous paragraph offended you–take a number. I’ve received emails from people who were angered by things I’d written, not taking into account I write a HUMOR column, not political essays for the Washington Post. Trigger words like “conservative lunatic” or “get off your a**” seem to set people off. Go figure.

3. It’s SO personal. Writers bleed their hearts onto the paper (or screen) and tentatively let it loose in the biosphere for people to attack/enjoy, only to have it received with a sniff and a derisive comment. If you don’t have thick skin, perhaps you should choose a different field. Like hermit.

4. I’m easily distracted. I just typed “I’m easily distracted” then stared at the screen trying to decide which Girl Scout cookies are left in the pantry. My method for writing is:

1. Craft a brilliant sentence (or phrase)

2. Look around the room to see if there’s anything more interesting to do

3. Rewrite the brilliant sentence (or phrase)

4. Get up and eat a Girl Scout cookie

5. Repeat 1-4 until the article, blog, column, etc. is complete (sometimes this can take days).

5. Low pay. I know, you’re shocked. But how many millionaire journalists do you know? We put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) every day, subject ourselves to ridicule and, in return, make less than many Wendy’s managers. Okay. ALL Wendy’s managers.

So why write, you ask? Because I love to . . . ummmm. . . I enjoy . . .Well, I guess it harks back to the day when I tried to type so fast the keys would stick. Not such a problem anymore.

Sigh.

Why See’s Chocolates Should Sponsor This Blog

The reasons See’s Chocolates should sponsor my Life and Laughter blog are numerous–and the similarities between me and the chocolate giant are eerie. Here are just a few reasons See’s should slap an ad on my blog.

(I’m on the See-food diet.)

Reason #1: See’s creates excellent chocolates. I EAT excellent chocolates. (Like I said. Eerie)

Reason #2: See’s first shop opened in 1921. Mark Twain (my favorite author) was TALKED ABOUT in 1921.

(Author and satirist Mark Twain posthumously enjoying a See’s chocolate cigar.)

Reason #3: See’s offers more than 100 varieties of candies and chocolates. I totally support that!

Reason #4: See’s makes THE BEST Nuts & Chews and truffles. Coincidentally, Nuts & Chews and truffles are my FAVORITE!

Reason #5: Founder Charles See had a mother. SO DID I!

Reason #6: The company is headquartered in San Francisco. I’ve BEEN to San Francisco!

(Dead or alive: This is where I want to be buried.)

Reason #7: See’s has kitchens at a second location in Los Angeles. I have a kitchen right across the hall!

Reason #8: See’s has stores in Utah. I grew up in Utah.

Reason #9: Guittard Chocolates delivers bulk liquid chocolate in tanker trunks to See’s to make their delicious candies. I could LIVE in a bulk liquid chocolate tanker trunk.

Reason #10: See’s has a large variety of dark chocolates that are good for your heart. I have a heart! (Usually.)

(I’m pretty sure my heart is 99.9% chocolate. The remaining .1%? Coca-Cola.)

To Hell and Back

Remember those field trips in first grade where the bus smelled like urine, the children screamed songs and teachers were frazzled? Well, I just relived that experience when I chaperoned my grandson’s class to the aquarium.

(There was NOT a Loch Ness monster in our aquarium. Feeling gypped.)

Now, my grandson is perfect. That’s all there is to it. He’s handsome. He’s brilliant. He’s funny. And he loves me. However, every other first grader had either downed a high-octane espresso or snorted brown sugar before boarding the bus. Children were bouncing everywhere like Jell-O in an earthquake. The little girl sitting next to me kept screaming “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I guess she was channeling my thoughts.

When we finally arrived at the aquarium (the longest freakin’ bus ride of my life), chaos ensued. Teachers and parents scrambled to herd kids into the facility while the kids did everything they could to try to get lost immediately. The little girl who had previously been screaming in my ear, made a beeline to the sting ray tank and proceeded to slap the rays as they swam by.

I finally restored a semblance of order by saying the sting rays were a rare kind of killer that ate the flesh of young children. Interestingly enough, that was also true about the penguins, the jellyfish, the starfish, the otters and every other creature we came across. I’ve probably instilled a fear and loathing to all things “ocean.”

(It’s worse than that. He’s dead, Jim.)

And since we live in Utah, which, when I last checked, was hundreds of miles from any ocean, the aquarium lacked the “fun” aquatic creatures like killer whales, great white sharks and the Little Mermaid. Instead, we watched rainbow trout, river otters and shrimp from the Great Salt Lake as they lived in their natural habitat of a glass tank.

Kids get bored easily. Even when we’re pretending to hunt jellyfish. So we toured the facility twice and were just getting ready to watch them feed children to the small sharks when it was time to board the bus to go home. I volunteered to walk, but they insisted I get back on the bus from hell.

More frivolity ensued as the bus riders punched each other, fell off their seats, cried, slapped the people in front of them and threw their shoes out the window. And that was just the teachers. The kids were OUT OF CONTROL. I never remember acting that way on a bus ride. Of course, back then a “bus” was a wagon pulled by oxen. And teachers were still allowed, even encouraged, to beat us.

After I returned to the school, kissed the ground and headed back to my (quiet) car, I thought “That wasn’t so bad.” Hahahahaha! Just kidding. I didn’t think that.

Things Driving Me Crazy Today

(These damn kids with their loud music and their saggy jeans! Get off my lawn, you buggers!)

I must be getting older because my patience is wearing thin. I always thought my grandma was crotchety and impatient–and now I’ve become her. (Time to learn how to knit and yell at the neighbor kids.) But I’m sure my grandma would agree with the following things that are driving me crazy today:

Male politicians and religious leaders (and some FEMALE politicians) arguing about a woman’s choice for birth control, abortion, etc. At what point did women’s health issues become the government’s business? Stay out of my nether-regions, sir!

(Coming soon! A new Utah State Legislature-approved fashion line for women.)

Drivers who don’t wave “thank you” after you let them pull in front of you.
People who are NOT me that make millions of dollars a year.
“Celebrity” news about a) Lindsey Lohan’s relapses, b) Angelina Jolie’s fertility status, c) anything involving a Snooki or a J-Woww, or d) Katherine Heigl’s “career.”

(“News,” by definition, is something that happens out of the ordinary. This is not “news.”)

People who are NOT me who are eating chocolate cake right now.
Beyoncé trademarking her daughter’s name: Blue Ivy Carter. Really? Is having a child a money-making scheme? (Didn’t work for me, that’s for damn sure.)
People who speak Starbuck-ese. Get over it! The sizes are small, medium and large. Geesh.

(Thank God there’s still some sense in the world.)

The Oscars! Enough all-freakin’-ready!
Showing up at a semi-formal event in jeans and flip-flops. Whoops. (Didn’t get the memo.)
Self check-out lanes at the grocery store that are 12 times slower than having an employee do the job for you. I’m not smart enough to be a cashier–or I’d BE A CASHIER!!!
The Utah State Legislature. No explanation needed.

(The Utah Capitol Building. Could also be the setting for the Ringling Brothers, “Psycho” and/or “Titanic.”)

Now that I’ve vented, I’m going to take my teeth out and take a nap.

Vote For PK!

Since today is President’s Day, I stopped to think how much it would suck to be president of the U.S. Talk about making NOBODY happy.

But there MUST be perks to being prez or no one would bother to run every four years. Here are the top things that would make it cool to be president.

Absolute Power! (Duh)

(My cabinet would be the Masters of the Universe.)

$400,000 a year, plus a $50,000 annual expense account. Yeah, I could spend that.
I would designate July 5 (my b-day) as National Peri Kinder Day–extending the 4th of July holiday an extra day–and creating lots of love for me.
The bumper sticker on my pimped-out limo would read, “My other car is Air Force One. Suckas!”
No housework for FOUR YEARS!!!!

(I’m the one not holding a vacuum.)

I can mail things for free for the rest of my life. Or until the post office folds.
I would establish a cool presidential library. The Peri L Kinder Presidential Library (located in Kearns, Utah) would feature a large sunroom with window seats; access to snacks of all kinds (mostly candy); James Earl Jones reading to me from any book I choose; slides; trampoline floors; and a bedroom so I could live there.
I could get a “Hail to the Chief” ringtone. (Then I’d call myself all the time.)
I would choose an awesome VP. Maybe Chelsea Handler, Tina Fey or Ellen DeGeneres.
I’d hire a staff member to exercise for me.

(I’m not shown in this picture. I’m sleeping.)

I’d probably get to meet Jon Stewart. And Matt Lauer. And Kermit the Frog.
I would spend a lot of time deciding which SNL comic would portray me in sketches. I’m thinkin’ Bill Hader.

(Give him a blonde wig and we’re TWINS!)

Now I’m WAY excited to run for president. I’m pretty sure I could beat Romney, Gingrich, Santorum, Paul–and any other GOP candidate still crawling out of the woodwork. But then I probably wouldn’t have time to blog.

Screw it.

Romance 101

(When saying “No” just isn’t enough.)

Ah, yes. It’s time for another round of “How much do you love me?” a.k.a. Valentine’s Day. This day is the true test of timeless love, eternal heartshapes and air kisses. And if you FAIL? (Sad, slow shake of the head.) (To celebrate, I’ve found some AWESOME V-Day cards that I will sprinkle throughout my blog.)

(This comes with pepper-spray.)

My husband and I have varying opinions about this Hallmark-hyped holiday. He is a sweet man who regularly adores me–despite the date on the calendar, and despite my snarky attitude. I, on the other hand, don’t have a single romantic bone, muscle or fat cell in my body. Rom-coms make me vomit, love songs induce eye-rolling and smarmy poetry makes my upper arms itch.

(This also doubles as divorce papers.)

So I decided to take a crash course in romance. I turned to my all-knowing resource (Wikipedia) to find ways to become romantic

The first idea was Make It Personal: So I told my husband my lack of romantic ability was all his fault.

The next suggestion, Break the Monotony: At first I thought it said “Monogamy” and that didn’t go over so well. (My bad.) But then I realized my mistake. So, when my husband got home from a meeting, I jumped out of a closet and scared the s*** out of him. Don’t call ME monotonous.

Then, Focus on the Little Things: Hahahahahahahahaha!!! I’m just going to skip this one.

Finally, Be Sincere: I sincerely don’t have any clue how to be romantic. I looked for cards depicting koala bears vomiting rainbows or Cupids slinging arrows into people’s still-beating hearts, but no luck. I learned anything cute, red, lacy, sunsety, chocolatey, furry, violinish or feathered is deemed “romantic.” So I got my husband a garishly-painted red bunny wearing a lace collar and a feather boa sitting on a Hershey’s bar. And I gave it to him at sunset while we were sitting on the couch. (I’m pretty sure it was sunset.)

(I wouldn’t be NEARLY as tasty without those extra 15 pounds.)

I hope these V-Day tips will help make your holiday special. If all else fails, fake a debilitating illness for 24 hours with a quick recovery on Feb. 15.

(Just plain messed up.)

Top 5 Reasons I Hated the Super Bowl

Besides two BORING teams (yawn); and besides the hours of pre-pre-pre-pre-game hype; and besides the fact that male athletes are the most overpaid, overindulged bunch of babies on the planet; while watching Sunday’s Super (?) Bowl, I found even more reasons to hate the game. (Of course, I was already biased because neither the Steelers nor the Niners were playing. Boo.)

(Future NFL Hall of Famer.)

#1. Stats: Who has the freakin’ time to research all the stats that are thrown at TV audiences? Most interceptions, total yards, most felonies, biggest tattoo, oldest grandma, best recipe for nachos–the TV announcers don’t. shut. the. hell. up. If Al Michaels threw out one more “this wide receiver spent the least amount of time doing homework” stat, I was going to throw my bowl of cheese dip at the TV.

#2. Overinflated Egos: Why does winning the Super Bowl make a team automatic WORLD Champions? While they’re at it, why not Intergalatically Undefeated? Or Universal Phenoms? How about next year the SB winner plays the Marvin Martian Marauders? (And didn’t the Giants LOSE 7 games during the season? Meh.)

(Oh, you have made me very angry! Very angry, indeed.)

#3. Boring Ads: Sequels abound. Not just in the movies but in the Super Bowl ads. Next year, no more talking babies, no monkeys at work and no more bikinis. And prohibition ads? Really, Budweiser? Ad execs, take a creative pill. (But I DID like watching John Stamos get a nasty head-butting. Hahahaha! I’ll eat yogurt just for that.)

#4. The Walk of Slime: Was anyone besides me bothered by the trophy walk where the old guy carried the SB trophy through a gantlet of Giants who fondled, kissed and worshiped the metal statue? I think one Giants player even French-kissed the thing. Very disturbing. And now the trophy carries millions of new germs. Thanks, New York.

#5. Half-Time Show: I admit it. Americans are hard to impress. Especially the sober ones. But Madonna seemed to shuffle through her performance (and not in the cool LMFAO way–in the Medicare way) and didn’t seem to have any energy. Granted, I’ve never had to perform a half-time show but I don’t think I’d end it with a church choir.

Getting Nailed

If eyes are the windows to the soul, the feet must be the smelly, damp cellar.

I used to take the time (and cash) to treat my feet to a pedicure twice a month. It’s like airing out that musty cellar and removing the mold. Then, to save money, I cut back to once every three weeks–and now it’s once a month–or less. So when I finally take the time to get a pedicure, I’d better enjoy it, dammit!

Let’s discuss my experience this past Saturday. I had some free time and a little extra moola, so I went to my local nail joint to get my bunions rubbed. I was ready to be pampered, lotioned, scraped and polished.

Right off the bat, I was pissed off. My nail technician plunked me in some lukewarm water and proceeded to talk on her cellphone, yelling at someone about her Internet service. (At least I think that’s what she was saying. She was speaking Vietnamese.) This continued while she cut my toenails back BELOW my skin and ripped the s*** out of my cuticles. Perhaps she thought I was her Internet provider.

Then she moved my massage chair so far back that I kept sliding toward the foot bath. After 20 minutes of trying not to fall off the chair (and with my butt bones screaming) I pushed myself back up–only to have her yell at me because she said my legs were too long. (?) Well, excuuuuuuuse me. Next time I’ll leave my legs at home and just bring my feet.

As she scraped the skin off my feet, with what is probably an illegal torture device, she tried to sell me an expensive line of foot cream because I obviously had a re-creation of the Grand Canyon in the cracks of my heels. Maybe I should sell burro rides down the canyons of my soles.

(This is not the lunar surface. You could go spelunking in these cracks!)

When my pedicure was over, I carefully stomped out of the nail salon and drove home fuming. By the time I walked in the door, 6 of my 10 toenails had been smudged.

Moral of this story: Find a nail salon where workers are not allowed to talk on their cell phones while working with customers. (My toes STILL hurt.) That really should be a no-brainer.

Versatile Blogger?

I’ve been called many things (usually accompanied by a waving of the middle finger) but I’ve never been called versatile. But thanks to The Gratitude Garden blog, I’ve been nominated for the Versatile blogger award.

Thanks so much for the nomination–and now the pressure to keep writing funny AND versatile blogs for the rest of eternity.

As part of this award, I need to share 7 things about me that no one knows. But then I’ll have to kill all of you. It’s nothing personal, of course.

1. I was a very precocious and obnoxious child. (Now, I’m a precocious, obnoxious adult.)

2. I once failed a spelling test intentionally so my best friend wouldn’t feel bad about screwing up the test the week before.

3. I was born in a quaint, small town by the name of Dallas, Texas (You might have heard of it. Maybe not) and moved to the bustling cosmopolitan city of Salt Lake when I was still in diapers. (Of course, I was also 13).

4. I always wanted to be a prima ballerina. But I’m about 6″ and 100 lbs. too big for that dream.

5. I had NO idea what I was doing as a mother.

6. Would rather read than do almost anything. (Occasional exceptions: yoga, sex, eating)

7. I ate my daughters’ Halloween candy while they were at school. (See #5)

And now, here are my 15 nominations for the Versatile Blogger Award:

1. The Can’t Stay At Home Mom.

2. Technicolor Day Dreams: And a BIG thank you to this blogger who also nominated me for the award.

3. My Organized Chaos

4. Inkings and Inklings

5. Pechaflickr

6. Travel Destination Bucket List

7. Dreaming of Hope