A concerning email I received five minutes ago.

I am a little more than concerned because I just got an email from this lady:

Her name is "Irena" and she says she needs to talk to me.  Actually, she says:

I am interested and I want to talk with you.
But it is not so convenient to me to write to you on this site.
Please write to me on pryira@gmail.com
and I necessarily shall answer you.

I hope it's nothing serious - I am just not sure who this woman is.  Does she look familiar to anyone? Should I be replying in haste?

My new "Reactions" feature.

If you have not yet noticed, I have just added a new feature to the site: "Reactions".  Now you and your kin can personally give your positive feedback without having to actually place comments.  It's like a lazy man's mini comment.  Please enjoy and use at at will.

One other note: You can check more than one reaction.

Please feel free to NOT leave me a comment.

Blog comments.  It's not like I am begging for them. I mean, I could care less.  Leave them, don't leave them; I don't care.  Whatever.  

Here's what weird though.  Women will comment on each other's blogs as if they may be dying the next day...

SAMPLE:

We had a great weekend.  (Enter child's name here) took out the bubbles and started blowing bubbles all over the front room.  Our front room was filled with bubbles and it was just magic.  A magic bubblethon of adorability!!!  (Women bloggers use a lot of exclamation points!!!)

Here's a picture of (Enter child's name here) with bubbles all over his face.  Isn't he adorable!!!!!!

(Actual picture.  Not computer generated.)

Great post.  Real solid, right?  Probably took the blogger a good 15 minutes.  Within 20 minutes after posting the blogger has 10-15 comments just like these:

SAMPLE:

"Charlotte, you are soooo cute!  I just can't get enough of you.  You are the guiding light that beams through the mists of fog."

"Charlotte, little Joey is the most adorable thing I have ever seen!  Look at how he's reaching for the bubble - it's like the bubble is a puppy dog and he is trying to pop it.  Tell your cute husband hi."

"Charlotte - This picture is the most precious thing I have ever seen in my life.  I ran off 38 copies and posted them all over my cubicle.  Every time I look at it I think of Joey... and of you... but mostly of bubbles.  Love your blog."

Like I said, I don't need them.  Whatever.  I just wish I could just add a tracker after each post that could tell me how many people liked it.  In the meantime, I'll just dream up more colostomy bags of hope to keep the masses entertained.

Song of the Day: Electric President - Insomnia

Hey music fans - check out this song by Electric President.  I like to think of it as "eased magnetism".  But you don't have to take my word for it.

Something to give to my audience on the next episode of "Cheeseboy's Favorite Things".

Somebody at school brought these in today and I have to admit that I was more than a bit leery. I had tried the "Flaming Hot Cheetos" and they were downright disgusting.  These on the other hand were delicious.  I had four servings - that's 650 calories of pure cheddar bliss.  But, ZERO grams of trans fat because I am on a diet.

Don't Trust These People!

There are some people with jobs that I just don't trust. Sure, I know what your thinking; the usual politicians, lawyers, car salesmen and the like. Yeah, yeah, those folks are not to be trusted - but I am thinking more about those with more obscure occupations. Let me give you a few examples:

1. The crazy lady that watches the kids in the babysitting area at Smith's Marketplace. This is what I know about this lady: she's wearing an apron that is way too small for her. This is what I do not know about this lady: How many warrants she has out for her arrest.
Sure, take my kid lady... I just have to buy some pants and a spatula. Be back in a jiffy!

2. The old guy at Mr. Mac. Apparently, if you have a measuring tape in your hand you are allowed to touch me in whatever way necessary to ensure a nice pant fit. You would think that after all these years these guys would be able to eyeball it. Although the thought of some old guy "eyeballing" me may actually be more creepy.


3. The lady that puts my luggage on that moving belt at the airport. That's my stuff and now it's gone. She put a tag on it, but the tag just has those coupon lines on it. I don't trust this lady. She took my stuff and labeled it with a glorified coupon. I'll never see that stuff again.


4. The gal that seats us at a busy restaurant. Nobody trusts these girls. Are they really seating people in the order that they came? I know we have these round buzzers in our hand that they gave us when we came in, but aren't they the ones that push the buzzer buttons? Do these girls have some sort of vendetta against me and that is why the couple that clearly came in after us went ahead of us? Did I do something to offend this girl when I walked through the door? Have I asked her about our table one too many times. I hate that smug look on her face, like she owns the place.
No 17 year old girl with sparkly lip gloss should ever have this much power in life.


5. Jared Fogle Yeah right Jared. An all sandwich diet, ahem. Who would have known - all it took was wheat instead of white and 6 inches instead of a foot long?! It took Jared and his bag of lies to come along and show us how Subway can make us live longer. I don't trust you Jared. I don't trust you one bit. I bet your old job was taking luggage at airports.

*Editors note: Unless Jared shows up at the Subway I am eating at, I will still enjoy a nice Spicy Italian.

The new, improved colostomy bag.

Editor's note: I promised my dad, Clark, that I would not blog about poop anymore.  Well dad, I've done well.  However, tonight I just couldn't help myself.  Because of your brilliant idea, I dedicate this post to you.

One other Editor's note - the picture on the left of the colostomy bag is evidently a colostomy bag used by those in the "Dharma Initiative".

My dad is a genius.  Tonight after dinner, our conversation drifted into worlds unknown and he informed my brother and I that he was thinking of creating a biodegradable colostomy bag.  Not your ordinary biodegradable colostomy bag, but a biodegradable colostomy bag that would disintegrate when dropped into the toilet.  That way, those unfortunate enough to have colostomy bags would no longer have to empty the contents of said colostomy bag into the toilet; rather, they would just unzip, drop and plop.  No more mess, no more disgusting cleanup - it is a breakthrough product equivalent to the disposable diaper.  Now you know that these are the kind of conversations we have in my family.

This conversation reminded me of the days my mother would bend over and rinse out cloth diapers in the toilet - toilet diapers!  The other day Calder threw a magazine in the toilet while proclaiming "This goes in here!" I almost threw up just reaching in and fishing the mushy paper out.  And to think, my mom used to purposefully stick her hand in the toilet, many times a day in fact - on purpose!  If that does not spell h-e-r-o, I am not sure what does.

I am now reminded of a conversation that Lincoln and I had just the other day after Calder threw the magazine in the toilet.  It went something like this:  (I kid you not, this conversation really did happen - exactly like this.)

Abe: Calder!  Magazines don't go in the toilet. The only thing that goes in the toilet is toilet paper!  That's it!

Lincoln: But what about poop and pee dad?

Abe: Okay Calder, poop, pee and toilet paper.  That is all that goes in the toilet.

Lincoln: There was something weird mom left in there the other day dad.

Abe: Okay - mom is different.  She can put what she wants in the toilet.  But for you boys, the only thing that goes into the toilet is poop, pee and toilet paper.

Lincoln: What about a dead goldfish?

Abe: Ah crap!  Okay okay, the only thing that goes in the toilet is poop, pee, toilet paper and dead goldfish.  But that is all.

And now, when Grandpa gets his new invention patented, I'm going to have to tell Calder, "Okay Calder, the only things that go in the toilet are: poop, pee, toilet paper, dead goldfish and Grandpa's biodegradable, disintegrating colostomy bags."  You try and explain that to a three year old.  Thanks dad. 

**By the way, I honestly think that Lincoln spent the rest of the night thinking of things that are "appropriate" to go in the toilet.  I say that because like 45 minutes after the initial conversation about things that go into the toilet, he sat next to me and out of nowhere said, "What about throw up dad?"

Things I Have Used Tires For

Two very important and newsworthy bits of entertainment news.

It just so happens that I found this exciting information today, on my anniversary.  Coincidence? I think not.

NEW JIM GAFFIGAN SPECIAL

Set your DVR's for Comedy Central on March 29th.

"King Baby"  

Can't wait!

Secondly, I just received word that Spinal Tap will be touring soon!

Unfortunately, they will be touring with less hair.  

I hope they stop in Utah.  I would love to see the patron saint of quality footwear in person.

In other news, in my First Grade class, my student teacher was corrected twice by students for her lack of skill in English:

One kid informed her that it wasn't "sanitizer" it is pronounced "hand-itzer".

Another kid told her that it wasn't "Mississippi" it is pronounced "Misses Hippy".

I hate license plate holders.

I saw a car today with the license plate holder that said, "My kids are cuter than yours."  REALLY?  Your kids are cuter than mine AND you drive a 1992 Dodge Stratus?  Truly yours IS a charmed life.

I also recently saw a license plate holder that said, "My Lord is my copilot."  REALLY?  I can see your Lord and she is a 350 pound woman wearing a white, stained tank top.

Another favorite of mine is the always touching ode to a lover: "Steve and Michelle - Always together forever."  Ahh.  Michelle looks a lot like an empty seat.

I saw this one on State Street the other day and it really caught my attention: "Caution... PMS victim"  The nice thing about this one is that it works for either a man or a woman driver.  They had their window open and I thought about pulling up and throwing a few maxi pads at them.

Finally, one of the most common license plate holder I have seen on the road (mostly on minivans) says, "Proud parent of an eagle scout."  Sure, it says, "Proud parent of an eagle scout" but what it's really saying is, "Proud parent of a future Mountain Man Rendezvous zealot -  now where's my bolo tie and handkerchief?  I've got a committee meeting to attend over at the stakehouse - pronto!"

A word from Skittles

We interrupt the normal Blog O' Cheese nonsense for a message from Skittles.

First Grade racism?!

I apologize to those that may have heard this story.  I felt that at some point in my life it needed to be blogged.  I am therefore blogging this blog now.  Blog.

This story happened three years ago during my second year of teaching.  The names have been changed to protect Kayden and Alexandria. (The actual children in the story.)  

Me: Class, we would like to welcome Maria into our class.  She is a new student and we need to make her feel welcome.  Maria, will you come up please? [Maria comes up]

Me... again: Hello Maria.  Welcome to our class.  What is your last name Maria?  [Maria is a Hispanic child that has not learned much English yet.  She stands and stares, dumbfounded at my question.]

Me: Maria, do you know your last name?  [Just stands and stares.]

Kevin [Sitting in front row]: IT'S PROBABLY ON HER GREEN CARD!

Me: KEVIN! Why did you say that?!  I need to talk to you in the hall right now!

[Kevin and I venture into the hall.]

Me: Kevin, I have never heard anything so rude.  Why would you say something so cruel?

[Kevin now looks like Maria.  He just shrugs his shoulders and stares.]

Me: Kevin!?  Why would you say that about Maria?!

Kevin: [Almost whispering]: Well, I thought her name might be on her green card.  You know, the ones we take to the office if people aren't here.

- Our attendance cards were green this year. -

Me: Oh Kevin, I am soooo sorry.  I thought you meant that she... I thought you were saying that Maria's name would be...Oh, nevermind Kevin.  I really didn't mean to get angry with you.  I am really, really sorry.

Kevin [Still a bit stunned as he rarely, if ever got in trouble.  Especially the kind of trouble in which Mr. Yospe turns into a raging maniac.]: It's okay.

Me: Really?  Are you alright Kevin?  I am really sorry I got that mad.

Kevin: Yeah, I'm okay.

I should have known that a First Grader wouldn't know what a green card is.

I was a little concerned however when Kevin brought a long, white, pointed hood for show and tell the next day.

Also, looking back at my play, I now realize that Maria does not have any speaking parts.  The main crux of the role is to be able to stand and look confused.

So what's the big deal about the Bachelor?

I don't watch the Bachelor.  In fact, I can't think of a more mind-numbing, doltish, ghastly way to spend an hour of my life.  Nevertheless, everywhere I turn - from the news to facebook to the water cooler at work - everyone (or shall I say every WOMAN) was talking about how disappointed they were in the Bachelor.

I have no idea what happened on the show last night to create such a landslide of infuriated estrogen filled venom.  I mean, what did women expect of this slimeball, pernicious load of crap? 

So what did this bachelor do that has all these gals in a tizzy and ready to implode?  I'm not sure, but I think I might have an idea...

He had a missionary he was waiting for during the entire taping.

He left the toilet seat up, not once - but twice!

He gave every woman on the show Herpes.  (There is a good chance that this actually did happen.)

He took one of the girls to a Jazz game and sat in the (gasp!) UPPER BOWL!

He got a text from a girl and did not return said text in a timely manner.

He refused to get in a hot tub for the 9th time in one day.

He was really a woman.

He filled out form 1040 for his taxes when he clearly needed to fill out form 1040b.

He picked the ugly girl.

He nauseatingly made out with 6 girls in one episode.  Wait, hold on.  I am receiving word that this happens in every episode.

He "twittered" when he clearly should have "twattered".

In the final live scene, when asked by the woman he chose if he really loved her, he looked over to the producers and asked. "LINE... LINE PLEASE!"

No dinner for Abe.

Cathi went to some RS thing tonight and I was left to finish the Mac & Cheese for the boys. 

I dished out one bowl for Lincoln, one bowl for Calder and they went at it.

I got down a glass and filled it with ice for a refreshing Fresca beverage.

I filled a bowl with delicious Mac & Cheese and set it on the counter next to my glass.

I then went to the fridge and pulled out the Fresca.

I then walked over to the counter and proceeded to dump Fresca all over my Mac & Cheese.

Upon hearing my "fake" swearwords like "oh crap", Lincoln could not stop laughing.

Friday marks the magic number 11.

Friday marks 11 years of marriage for me and me lady. It seems I have learned a thing or two. Some stuff I've learned about marriage in 11 years:

All food is delicious.
The nicer car always belongs to the lady.
When in doubt if you should or should not call, always call.
There is a right and wrong way to load the dishwasher. Try to stick with the right way.
Never ask more than three times , "What's the matter?"
The only polite thing to do is wash your toothpaste waste down the drain.
If you are thinking , "9 holes or 18?" - always, always go 9.
Finally, it's the easiest thing in the world to be married 11 years if your wife is named Cathi and she is as sublime, fair and solicitous as my Cathi. Good luck finding one.