It was something...

I saw or heard something today that was either hilarious or stupid or ironic or just plain dumb enough that I planned to blog about it here.

But I forgot what it was. If you remember, let me know.

Rebate Schmeebate

I swear I will never again be fooled by rebate prices. You know, when a retail store marks an item with the shelf price, minus the mail in rebate, and the price in an unbelievably great deal?

I have never been screwed by one of these deals. I have always gotten the rebate. Eventually.

I am now into my 10th week of waiting for a $50 rebate on a computer hard drive. They ask customers to wait 8 weeks for the refund. So I have now called the 1800 customer service line and used their web based tracking system. They all say the same thing "In Processing". Just like they told me two weeks ago.

Today though, I got an email directly from a customer service rep at the company. The way the email was written, I think it was an actual person sending it, not a computer generated response to my inquiry. And now she say that they have only had the request for 6 weeks. Isn't it funny that I mailed it less than 500 miles and it took 20 days to get to them? I have never ticked off my mail man, so I don't think it actually took that long.

But believe me, Annette, in customer service will be getting a lot of email from me in a couple of weeks if the rebate isn't here, soon. It might even be worth her sending me a $50 personal check, just to get me to go away.

Again?

The kids are watching Barney. I am getting the house and yard ready for a playdate. When I walked in the house, the Barney kids were singing a song. I only heard a few lines, but it must've been a great song.

"Let's have an intervention
We will find a good snack there."

When I asked The Talker, he said they were singing about "Going to the kitchen."

Yeah right. I am sure they were about to confront the kids with glasses about his meth addiction.

The Talker makes a good point, though. The kids were all wearing chef's hats. And no one has ever worn one of those at any of my interventions.

Stick THIS!

You've seen the stickers on the back of minivans, right? The ones that identify the driver's progeny by first name and by whatever activity they excel in. Sometimes the have a team logo or a uniform number...

Anyways, I have always thought they are a little pretentious and snotty. Why else would they only be on SUVs and minivans? And yes, I know there are several of these stickers in my extended family. Tough titty. I've made fun of my relatives for less...

So tonight I saw the highest form of sticker snobbery. A green SUV with two stickers. One on each side of the read window. In the shape of dog bones.

I swear. Outlines of dog bones with the pooch's name inside. One bone read Jake, the other, Sadie. Maybe they do have dog faced kids with canine names?

Who gives a good dog damn what your ugly mutts names are? I've got a freaking registered something or other dog that we paid way too much for. He still chews my shoes and digs up the backyard. Who cares?

Nobody cares. That's who.

Now if Jake and Sadie join the Baseball Team or the High School Marching Band Tuba section, put that on your window. 'Cause that, I'd want to know about.

Every good marriage needs a soundtrack... (or a laughtrack)

It's The Little Things by Robert Earl Keen
From the album, The Party Never Ends


It's the way you stroke my hair while I am sleepin'
It's the way you tell me things I don't know
It's the way you remember I came home late for dinner
Eleven months and fourteen days ago

CHORUS

It's the little things the little bitty things
Like the way that you remind me I've been growin soft
It's the little things the itty bitty things
It's the little things
That piss me off

It's the note that you leave on the breakfast table
With a list of things to help me plan my day
It's the way you say we could have If you'd done the things you should have
It's the little things Darlin that make me feel this way

CHORUS

It's the little things the little bitty things
like the way that you remind me I've been growin soft
It's the little things the itty bitty things
It's the little things
That piss me off

Got a Monkey on my Back...

I swear I just heard Boots the Monkey yell "Rehab" when Dora was singing the Where are We Going song.

You know the song,

Where are we going?

Rehab!


And yes, I did come back to this post and change the title. This one is much better than the original, Hello, Hallucinations...

ADHDaddy Farm and Ranch Realty Co.

This morning we were driving past a thrift store. On the front of the store they had a banner that read "Putting People to Work".

So that got me thinking of a way to restate that sentiment. Then I got bored and decided on a great sign for a real estate company, specifically one that specializes in farm and ranch land... "Putting People Out to Pasture".

I thought it was funny. The wife thought it was funny. But know that only a few minutes later I told The Boss Lady that I was so hungry "I could eat my own left tit".

Take that as you wish.

Wanna see DeeDee Doodle unmasked?

Trish, over at Gibble Gobber Nabber Gabber has a picture posted. She has a picture of Moe without makeup, too.

Why do I care? I don't know. But I do.

Just so you can see them for yourself, here is a link to The Doodlebop's website.

Do you ever

Look closely at the other people and cars in traffic? I do. It is one of my hobbies, since I don't keep a CD player, DVD player or cell phone in the car. And all of those days of peeping into other cars really paid off today.

A dark green Chrysler minivan was passing us on the freeway. The Boss Lady and I first noticed the big bottle of rum sitting on a pile of stuff on the passenger's front seat. Then there was the milk jug on the back seat with a hand written label on it that said 'Holy Water'. And to top it all off, on the back window was a big sticker of the Grim Reaper.

We tried to come up with good reasons for this scene beside us but we finally just decided to slow down and let that dude pass us on by. Especially after we spotted the statuette of The Virgin Mary,wearing a huge pile Mardi Gras beads, riding shotgun, right next to the bottle of rum.

It's No Big Deal...

The 3 year old son was getting a reward this afternoon. He did a great job helping gather toys for donation to a charity thrift store. So I thought a long ride in the truck would be super-special.

On the way home he told me "I want a special surprise, this is just a ride in the truck."

3 months of work on the old rig, wasted.

I suspect it's not just the ladies...

Well I got my first truck, when I was three,
Drove a hundred thousand miles on my knees
Hauled marbles and rocks, and thought twice before
I hauled a Barbie Doll bed for the girl next door
When she paid me with a kiss I began to understand,
There's just something women like about a PickUp Man

When I turned sixteen, I saved a few hundred bucks
My first car was a Pickup Truck
Started cruisin' the town and the first girl I seen
Was Bobbie Jo Gentry the homecoming queen
She flagged me down and climbed up in the cab, and said
"I never knew you were a Pickup Man!"

A bucket of rust, or a brand new machine
Once around the block and you'll know what I mean

You can set my truck on fire, roll it down a hill
But I still wouldn't trade it for a Coupe DeVille
It's got an eight foot bed that never has to be made
You know if it weren't for trucks we wouldn't have tailgates
I met all my wives in traffic jams,
You know there's something women like about a Pickup Man

Pickup Man, as sung by Joe Diffe

At least two family members have gotten rid of pickup trucks this month. Do they think that Marge is going to be theirs to borrow when they want to move? Maybe so. Or maybe they know my truck is cooler than theirs and they just decided to let me reign as the family Pickup Man.

Well, that would be Pickup Man, Jr., since Dad has no plans to get rid of his truck. And remember, when it comes time to move, HIS truck has an automatic transmission AND air conditioning...

It's Not MY Bedtime

I hardly ever put the kids to bed. Once The Boss Lady gets in from work, we eat dinner and play with the kids for a while or we go run some errands, then I usually hide out for a little while during bath and bedtime.

So tonight I have gotten my ass handed to me by a three year old who has memorized mommy's routine and only wants it that way. Actually, he went down pretty easily compared to Little Sister, who either is too tired and can't settle down or is teething or dinner upset her stomach or she wants more milk or the tv is too loud in the other room or the dogs are barking outside or it is too light to go to bed...

I don't have a clue. But I guarantee this ain't the first time for that.

Take this blog and post it

What the heck?

I like the BlogThis! toolbar feature, but the last two entries on my other blogs have gone AWOL.

I am trying this one with the BlogThis! feature, just to see if it will post. If not, no big loss. Unlike my other sites which will change your life with the words of wisdom shared there.

Yeah, right.

Welcome Back, Long Lost DoodleBop

The DoodleBops are no longer banished from this house. I said it was forever, turns out I really meant 3 weeks. The Talker really likes the show and yesterday it captivated all three kids.

Twenty three minutes of quiet? You betcha. Welcome back, old friends. Even though you are freaky mutants.

Since When

is poker a sport? I mean really, if bowling isn't a sport (and I think we can all agree on that) and ice dancing isn't a sport (MOST of us would agree with that), then how in the heck can DirecTV consider poker a sport?

See, my favorite feature of our satellite receiver is the ability to scroll through the channels that are showing sports. Today, I was finally bored with Indy Time Trials, and NFL Europe just does not catch my attention. So I was cruising channels looking for sports. My choices? The LPGA, NFL Europe, 3 different poker broadcasts, or the Indy Time Trials.

Zoom Zoom, back to Indy I raced...

Not Mine!

I was talking to Other Dad this morning about the amount of whining that The Talker does. I don't think he is any worse than other 3 year olds, just better at finding that spot on my spine where the whining voice grates the most.

While we were talking, Other Dad's son threw a fit. Whining, kicking crying - the whole enchilada. I was trying to keep The Talker occupied by watching baby deer in the neighborhood. But in reality, The Talker and I were most interested in what was going on. My boy, because he wanted to play with the fit thrower. And me? Morbid curiosity. I caught myself watching, not only to see how Other Dad dealt, but to see how much his son could dish out. They were both very successful.

I admit, it was nice to see my kid not being the one in trouble. And I really liked not having to deal with the aftermath of the fit. Of course, The Boss Lady would tell you that it all just looked like any weekend around here.

And I won't argue. Whine, maybe...

The Doodlebops are Forever Banished

I admit we watch a lot of TV. The Talker and I both like our television time. But today we watched a show that will never again be seen in this house. The Doodlebops.

It is some messed up stuff. I let the boy watch this show, instead of The Wiggles, which wasn't on for another 90 minutes. He did not know what to think. I asked if he wanted to keep watching and he answered "I think so...".

I was completely weirded out by the costumes. Those hands are messed up. I bet I have nightmares about these guys for months. CREEPY!

Gimme Gimme Gimme

We stayed at the ball park last night, through the 7th inning stretch. Mainly because The Talker has been really wanting to catch one of the bean-bag baseballs that the groundscrew throw into the stands before the bottom of the 7th inning starts. He wants one, because it has Spike on it.

He was the only kid for 10 rows. Sitting on the front row. I just knew it was his lucky night. The goobers throwing the balls talked to him and held the balls out to him, but they never threw him one. ARGH! He is three for Pete's sake. Don't tease him with the freakin' thing.

So he cried when they ran out of balls. Several fans sitting around us were jeering the staff as they left. That was pretty funny. But The Talker was really sad. A guy who caught one of the gimme balls asked the boy if he wanted the ball.

The Talker is usually shy around strangers, but I guess he saw his chance. "Yes, Thank you. Thank you for the ball. Daddy he caught me a ball!"

And instantly, mine was a happy boy, again.

Kind of ironic, right?

Our local cable system, part of Time Warner, is advertising National TV Turn Off Week.

If I were investing in Time Warner, I don't think I would want them supporting an event that cuts into the bottom line. They should be advertising National Leave the idiot box on 24/7 for the love of God, leave it on Week.

In the interest of full disclosure, we do not invest in Time Warner. The AtHomeFamily will NOT be participating in the National TV Turn Off Week. Not even for a little while. And we have a satellite system, not cable, so I really don't care what Time Warner does. But I loves me some reality tv. Bring on American HotRod.

Rode hard and put up wet

AtHomeDaddy is a tired mule. I was really looking forward to ignoring the kids for two solid days this weekend. Mommy time is good for them. And me.

Too bad, my plans to fish and work on the old truck just got crapped on by THE SCHEDULE. I forgot that The Boss Lady has to work Saturday, from 11am until 5pm. DAMN.

DAMN to the power of e squared.

No fishing, no truckin' and no quiet for AtHomeDaddy this weekend. At least I have somewhere to go and whine about it.