Don’t ask. They were cute. I succumbed.
They’re both Rhesus Macaques, but Andi has a little bit of jellyfish in her. Weird, yes, I know.
Tetra, the first cloned monkey.
And where did I find this nonsense? I thought you’d never ask… Famous Monkeys Throughout History.
Shut. up.
While my parents were here, my mom and I did a little shopping. It is my aunt’s (not my real aunt, my sister’s godmother, but the only person I will ever call aunt) birthday on Sunday, and we found a cute pair of earrings, but my mom thought we’d shop a bit more… just in case.
She called me on Monday and asked me to pick them up and mail them to my aunt in Texas. I said no problem and picked up the earrings yesterday.
At the post office this morning, the wide array of envelopes and boxes had me a little discombobulated. I finally decided on a small box that you put together yourself. Just so you know, the products at the post office are not customer-friendly.
There were no instructions, just serrated lines and bendy parts. So I wrote the address on the box, all while surreptitiously trying to ascertain how it went together.
OK, OK, I thought. I bend it there, and there and there…. and does this bend? Does it come apart? I don’t think so. Hmm… maybe I should call my mom. No, wait, it’s too early. Damn. Shit, I can do this.
After many minutes of struggle and under-my-breath cursing, I heard a muffled chuckle behind me. Turning, I smiled cloyingly at the two ladies behind the counter.
“These things should come with instructions you know,” I said.
“Bring it over here honey. We’ll help you out.”
And I did. And they did. While they laughed at me.
Stupid box.
Fortunately I live in a very small town, so not only did I know one of the ladies from the local coffee shop, but not a single other soul came into the post office during my time of duress.
Which is a positive, of course. Because you don’t really want the entire town knowing how easily a put-together box flumoxes your wits.
Stupid box.
Is it so very wrong that watching Al Roker fall on TV made me laugh really, really hard?
Yeah. I thought so.
Grabbed this from her.
My dad’s hardly ever allowed to go shopping by himself. Mainly because he a) tends to come home with too much random stuff, b) spends to much money on random stuff and c) forgets what he was supposed to buy in the first place.
His latest toy—which he hasn’t purchased because my mom would have killed him—is the Roboraptor from Radio Shack. He wants to use it to chase the cats at home. :::eyes rolling:::
Anyway, the other day he was at Walmart buying a vacuum cleaner (which he subsequently took back because it was seriously used… then the people at Walmart thought he hadn’t paid for it and was returning it, etc., so they gave him grief and after returning it, he left and went to Target… vowing to never, ever step foot in Walmart again)—and he saw a movie bin and decided to paw through it. He came home with a vacuum cleaner and four movies, but without the Diet Coke. 😛
One of the movies he got was Alexander.
“It was a really great price,” he said. “I couldn’t pass it up.”
So after cooking lobster tonight (yum), we decided to pop in a movie.
Alexander was first.
I couldn’t manage to jump to the menu on the DVD.
It was just a “Making of” feature.
My dad asks, snickering, “Did you put in the wrong DVD?”
So I went over to check and see… and lo and behold, I did not.
In fact, I had put in the right DVD. The only one he brought home.
It wasn’t my fault he didn’t read the DVD case.
That read, in bold type, right on the top of the cover:
EXCLUSIVE PROMOTIONAL DISC
DOES NOT CONTAIN THE FILM
My mom and I were convulsing with laughter.
Of course, that could be partially caused by the large quantities of vodka and rum we have consumed.
hehe 🙂
My dad is watching E-Ring. It’s a new Pentagon-based drama with Benjamin Bratt in it and my dad has never seen it.
Every time they mention a weapon or helicopter, my dad goes into an “Oooh,” and then I get to hear a short story about when he was in such and such and those helicopters (the Spector) saved his life. He’s saying, “It has a cannon on the back and it has a vulcan mounted on it and it can fire 100 rounds a second.”
He has this giddy grin on his face—he really needed to have boys. He needs a son, lol.
——————–
Earlier today we were heading to lunch and my mom mentioned that dad had bought me a toolbox. An actual toolbox, not the cardboard box I had been using… 😛
I was laughing, and he said, “Well now when people come over and need a hammer, you’ll be able to find it.”
I replied, “Oh well the hammer is right by my bed. Just in case, you know.”
And he rolled his eyes and said, “Oh I moved that and replaced it with a boot knife.”
Then I rolled my eyes.
“I also put one in the kitchen and in the living room.”
“Dad,” I said, “The hammer would’ve been fine. But anyway it’s a very safe area and I’m not concerned.”
He shook his head. “No, the knife. A hammer could be snatched and used to beat you with. It’s much harder to wrestle a sharp knife from your hand.”
It was about this time that he mentioned he had been planning our next vacation…
He wants us to go to a gun training camp in Nevada for a week, it’s called Frontsight. For firearms training.
He said, “I’m thinking it’s a Christmas present for everybody.”
—I couldn’t remember what the site was called, so I asked him. Then as we were talking about it and I was laughing, he said, “Hey, I thought everyone would appreciate it, but fine…”
To which I responded, “Dad, you’re just a blog posting a day, do you know that?”
He’s cracking up as I finish this. 🙂
—————–
We had lunch at a fabulous little Portuguese restaurant. They’ve never had Portuguese food, and the steak plate and the Shrimp Mozambique was a huge hit.
So were the homemade hot peppers and bread.
We got some of both to go, lol.
The coworker will be so pleased. 🙂
I forgot to mention this yesterday, what in all the excitement of my parents ripping apart my apartment, etc., but my trashcan was missing again on Monday evening.
WTF people. Seriously.
It wasn’t my landlord and it was left on my porch yesterday afternoon, dirty, once again, with some sort of mud.
My dad would like to stay another week and have a stakeout, complete with weapons, motion detectors and pizza.
Alas, he cannot, as they leave on Saturday.
So he’s doing something else to it. I have no idea what, but he’s “formulating a plan of attack.” :::eyes rolling:::
“You need a man. Make sure when you find one, he likes to clean.”
Said in response to my, “Mom, the door locks just fine. I don’t live in NYC and I don’t need six locks.”
Sweet, I know.
There was a tractor parade. I think it was sponsored by John Deere, lol.
My mom kept smacking my dad and I because he kept looking at me and then pointing, “Look.. I think, I think it’s another John Deere.” We were laughing hysterically.
The tiny new coffee shop (oh please) tried to kill me with my double espresso. It was so indescribably bad.
There were booths set up selling very odd things, including toe socks… (thought of you, Harley), Maryland crab cakes (I tried a bite and almost gagged), flea market-type things and pulled pork sandwiches…
I have pictures. And you will die.
Once we get back from dinner, I’ll upload them. 🙂