Thursday, September 13, 2012

To Stick or Not to Stick?

Posted by She Said

I recently freed myself of my mommymobile (aka minivan) and acquired a much more “I’m an outdoorsy type” Outback. It’s even a stick shift, which alone makes me feel 10 years younger. And in our very four-seasons climate, these “I can easily go kayaking! or skiing!” cars are very popular. (Not that I do either of those things, but still.) These cars are EVERYWHERE.

So, I was trying to figure out how to make mine stand out a bit? I’ve been wavering on whether or not to put my politically-affiliated bumper sticker on the car, but in a fit of Angry Susanne, I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and put it on my car. And as I was smoothing down the final corner and checking Facebook at the same time (hey, not all multi-tasking skills left me with motherhood!), I saw a friend’s post about being opposed to putting any sticker on his car but would possibly consider this one:


Now, the geek factor alone on this gem seriously makes it worth sticking it on your own forehead and running around for everyone to see. Stick it, I say! Had I not just sealed the deal with my own sticker, I may have considered that one instead.

So, anyway, I digress. Political bumper sticker. My car. Done deal. I am going to be acutely aware of any increases in one finger salutes in my direction and any increases in being cut off. Hopefully I’ll get a few thumbs up. At least my sticker just states where my support lay and isn’t one of those horribly blunt and downright rude stickers. I won’t say whose team (*cough Romney cough*) I keep seeing them for, because, you know, that would just be tacky.

Still pondering my choice to commit to the stick at the grocery store today, I happened to park next to a car with one of those aforementioned snarky stickers. This was no ordinary car either; it was also plastered with the name of the person’s floral business. If I were the owner of a small business, I would definitely consider the fact that I could be pissing away half of my customers by mixing my political beliefs with my business.

All I can say is thank goodness I’m a slacker and don’t have my own business! I can piss off whomever I want! (Sorry, parents.)

So, what do you think about political stickers on cars? Are only certain ones upsetting? Do you stick? Or do you avoid sticking? Inquiring minds want to know!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Fifty Shades of Ducky

Posted by She Said

You all know my ducks, right? Well, one of them has been really naughty lately, and I think I know why. That little sneak has been reading Fifty Shades of Grey (on our Kindle, of course).


Apparently she’s gotten herself pretty tied up in the storyline, and now even her peers aren’t sure what to make of her. They are always whispering behind her back.


Maybe they are just jealous, who knows? But the biggest question is where does she hang out during the day? There’s certainly no way she can hang out at the tub with the others. Even though she brags to them about how she is water proof and can vibrate. Seriously, where exactly does a duck of her, um… character hang out where the risk of ogling children’s eyes isn’t an issue? Do you think she has a secret playroom in the house somewhere?

Maybe her new, shall we say, attire can be attributed to our other new ducky addition:


Yeah, she looks innocent enough, but I bet she’s had a wicked influence on the others, don’t you think? All joking aside, there’s no way one could get into this getup alone. Is there?


So, yes, I have been given several more ducks for my ever-increasing collection. I’m not sure if that says something about me or the friends I keep. Either way, keep ‘em coming! Ahem, so to speak.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

It’s 4:20 Somewhere

Posted by She Said

It is obvious I have been married to my beloved for a long time. I have clearly become Angry Susanne, counterpart to Angry Greg. The difference however is that Greg has chilled at work and people no longer distinguish him from the other Gregs at work by referring to him as “Angry Greg.” OK, yes they do, but it is done more in jest instead of well, the truth.

I need to follow suit and chill. It is obvious I have been, ahem, angry lately. Angry at stupid white men trying to take women back 100 years and to discriminate against people “other” than them. OK, damn! There I go again.


So, OK. I promise to try and talk about fun and light things and keep my political ramblings to a minimum. Not completely stop, but minimize. I’ll try. Pinky promise. Hey, how about every time I bring it up, we do shots!? We’ll call the drinking game Angry Susanne!

So here I go trying to be light. And funny. It’s a little story about how technology can bite you in the ass…

Greg and I have parental controls on our Netflix account to keep the kids from watching things we don’t want them to see. It works perfectly! Well, until it doesn’t because you forgot to turn them back on after a grown up night of TV.

The kids have been watching this Japanese anime cartoon through Netflix, and where I don’t actually sit and watch shows with them, I do listen to them, keenly from the other room. I kept asking Braedyn what the rating was on the show, and he kept rolling his eyes at me and informing me it was TV-PG. Now, I didn’t think TV-PG shows were allowed with our settings, but I figured Greg set it, so he must be ok with it. What I heard wasn’t terrible, just a little surprising with its occasional “damn” and “what the hell?”. But there were princesses! and classical music! and well, I let it go.

Then last night Greg and Braedyn were watching something together and some guy was trapped in a car.

Braedyn: <calmly> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: What?

Braedyn: <again, calmly and truly inquisitive> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: You know, bud, damn is not a word you should use. It is a swear word.

Braedyn: What? I didn’t call anybody it.

It’s true. Good point. If you are going to swear in this house, you damn well better know where it goes in the f#cking sentence. It’s just good parenting.