Tuesday, January 26, 2021

Hair-um Scare-um

 Quick—see if you can name this common object:

          If you said steel wool, you are right. If you said Joni’s hair after a total disaster at the salon, you would also be right. (And now when I hear about someone calling S.O.S. I'm going to think they're in a panic because their hair now looks like an S.O.S. pad!)

          I went in to get some lowlights put into my light blonde hair, and when the colorist washed it out, my entire head of hair was now charcoal gray with black streaks. She said, "It will lighten a bit each time you wash it." Honey, I'd have to wash it every day for a century, and it still wouldn't make it blonde.

          St. Bob said he could turn me upside down and use me to scrub pots.  I glared at him. “Just try.” 

          My curls actually did resemble this wire scrubber:

          Or the sludge you see on the roadside during winter:

          Or the beard of physicist James Clerk Maxwell:

          Crossed with Rasputin:

           And the Bride of Frankenstein:


           Forget COVID. I'll have to quarantine just to hide my hair!

           This all happened after cancer and chemo. When you lose all your hair, it grows in a different texture and color. In my case, it grew in even curlier and dark brown!  Yet my eyebrows stayed blonde.

          Did I find someone to correct the situation? Yes. In steps. Hallelujah. And, now that I’m on my way back to being myself, I have to admit that streaky charcoal hair is better than no hair at all.

          Next time you’re unhappy with your hair, just stay inside and read my books! Or watch my Youtube Mom videos!

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Survey THIS

           Have you taken enough surveys, yet?  Tech support, online companies—everyone wants a piece of your time and your expert evaluation. 

          I know a guy who sells cars, and if his customers don’t rate him “Truly Outstanding” he can get fired. Let me ask you this:  Have you ever bought a car—any car—and considered the experience “truly outstanding”?  

          Do you even have five experiences in your lifetime that you would call truly outstanding?  So what does a guy have to do, to leave you with that kind of buzz, after shelling out a huge chunk of your earnings?  Should he juggle and sing?  Send you off with a parade?  Offer to put your kids through college?  Now that would be truly outstanding.

          I’ll tell you who never does surveys:  The very folks you’d like to rate.  The places where the service is so abominable that you honestly wonder if there’s a hidden camera somewhere, and this whole thing is a set-up.  Airlines who bump and overbook, then lose your luggage.  Repair shops where you swear you’re invisible, standing for ten minutes before you’re acknowledged.  Supermarkets where the only conversation you hear from the checker and the bagger is about their breaks, their next vacation, and how long they’ve been working that day.

          The place that really needs to hand out survey forms is the doctor’s office. Ironically, this is the only place where you actually have the time to fill one out.

      Was your wait reasonable?  Are you kidding me?  Next time I’m arriving with a tool box, and I’m going to say, “Oh, take your time.  I’ll just tinker while I wait.”

      Were you treated with courtesy?  What—weighed in like livestock then put into a paper smock and locked up in a cold cell?

      Was your stay pleasant?  No; it was like visiting a house of horrors—the wall “art” is a bunch of free posters from pharmaceutical companies, showing close ups of festering puss, swollen membranes, and runny eyes.  Someone needs to tell physicians that while this stuff may fascinate them, it is the very reason the rest of us did not pursue medicine as a career.  There’s a reason why skin is opaque, you know.  Surely they can afford something else for the walls, and save the gooey skin cancer pictures in an album.

          Makes you wonder how medicine might change if doctors knew they had to get a “Truly Outstanding” rating from their patients.  You want medical reform?  Start with a survey their license depends upon.  Now that’s the one survey I’d be happy to fill out.

But you can pass the time while waiting by reading one of my books!  

Tuesday, January 12, 2021

Can't Blame Auto-Correct This Time!

           This is quite possibly my most embarrassing admission, yet. I know, I know, a pretty high bar has been set by previous blogs, but this promises to set a new standard of blondeness, at least.

          Here’s what happened. First, we decided to put some under-the-cabinets lighting in the kitchen. I love the extra brightness when I’m cooking.  St. Bob, as St. Bob does, handled everything. He bought the lights, installed them, then tossed a little remote onto the counter, which turns them on and off. Easy peasy.

          So I decided to try turning them on myself. I should also tell you that St. Bob is the only human in this house who has also handled the multiple TV remotes. I basically have nothing to do with electronics. So I am not familiar with these cell phone lookalikes.

          But I picked up the remote anyway. And what do I see? A helpful little button that says, “No.” Yep, right there on the bottom, in green.

          Well, I don’t want to push one that could eject me through the roof and into the stratosphere, right?  Or it could detonate a bomb somewhere.  At the very least, it will short out our kitchen lights.  Certainly bad things will result. Why else would they be sure to label one with the warning, “NO”?

          Okay, then I did glance at the other buttons and realized they were upside down. It was all over in a matter of seconds, really. I turned it around, pressed “ON” and the lights sparkled into being.

          But I still think “No” when I pick it up. And now, the next time you do something embarrassing, you can compare it to this true story and feel quite brilliant. You’re welcome.

          There is no Youtube Mom video about how to realize what buttons actually mean. But there are plenty of short life hacks that will amaze you right here!

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Am I Being Followed (and not just online)?

           Whenever our eldest, Richie, comes over, I try not to pester him for tech help. I even thought of posting a sign like they have at some offices: 

          Only mine would say, “47 days since Richie has been asked for tech help.”  But I can never last that long. This time I was trying to load a photo to a new location and it wouldn’t work.

          And then—Shazam! I opened the new location and there was the photo. “Hey, wait! I guess I did it after all,” I said.

          St. Bob shook his head. “Before I die I’m going to hire someone to follow her around.”

          Richie laughed and nodded. “You could probably get someone to do it for free, if you advertise to comedians who need material.”

          Ha! Little do they know I’m planning to join the CIA as a spy, and you know they get followed around all the time. I am way ahead of this.

Writers are notorious daydreamers. See for yourself by ordering my books!

Tuesday, December 29, 2020

My New Game!

           I’ve been accused of trying to make everything into a game. I welcome such accusations, as I think this indicates creativity and a fun-loving nature. Thus, my latest idea: THE INSOMNIA GAME.

          You will need a spinner, downloadable on any home computer.  Mark spaces like a pie, then flick the arrow when you can’t sleep and it will tell you what to think about. 

Here are the categories you will need to write on your spinner: 

          That pair of pants you didn’t buy in 2006, and what you could wear them with if only you had gotten them.

          Boring people who, if they were here right now and talking, would help you fall asleep in no time

          That rude girl in 8th grade

          How do you spell circadian rhythm, anyway?

          The O.J. trial

          Lyrics to that song you can’t figure out

          Who’s going to buy the house next door that’s for sale

          Justifications for not apologizing to someone

          Figuring out how much sleep you can get if you fall asleep right now

          If you should have a heart attack, are your legs shaved well enough to go to the ER?

          Better things you could have said to the cop who pulled you over

          How can the universe just go on forever?

          Grown children's problems, which is like worrying about a car you already sold  

          What’s the weather going to be like a month from now?

          Every stupid thing you’ve ever done

          Experts say we shouldn’t toss and turn; we should  just get up and get  something done. How about enjoying one of my books? A Little Christmas Prayer is the perfectly priced gift for everyone!

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Bob's Latest Scheme

           St. Bob is in the doghouse.

          Here’s what happened. A few years ago my friend, Cynthia Rhine, gave me a wonderful European-style license plate, which I display in the background of my Youtube Mom videos: 


          So St. Bob, for Christmas, thought he’d get me an actual personalized car license plate that said the same thing. Only it’s too many letters. The maximum is seven. So he BRILLIANTLY came up with UTUBMOM.

          “I am not going to be known as a Tub Mom,” I said. He laughed and laughed.

          The only good part of this story is that he told me before actually ordering it. Smart man. Twisted, but smart.

          You are welcome to view any of the hundreds of life hacks and tips I post in short videos as the Youtube Mom. With an e, thank you. (And you can still get quick delivery from Amazon for A LITTLE CHRISTMAS PRAYER, my booklet that's the perfect gift for everyone.)

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Bob on a Roll

           I think we can all agree that this year has been crazy. And when I encounter crazy, I usually look for the humor therein. Luckily, St. Bob is willing to provide enough laughter to get us both through 2020. Herewith some of the latest Bobisms:

          Me: Call me when you’re free.

          Bob: I’m not free, but I have a 20 % holiday discount.

Later:
          Me: (Watching a narrated documentary) You’d be a good commentator for this.

          Bob: I am not a common tater. I’m a very special tater.

Later:

          Me: I’ve been procrastinating.

          Bob: That’s better than amateur-crastinating.

          Yep, his brain will definitely be donated to science.

          Looking for the perfect stocking stuffers?  My book, A Little Christmas Prayer is also the perfect price!