Local Ads

Recently Bon Secours St. Francis Hospital here has run a cute series of TV ads, each one promoting a different area of excellence within the Bon Secours St. Francis Team. This one struck me particularly funny, because of the little warning at the end of the ad. Look for the fine print on under the insignia about 13 seconds in:

Thou shalt not steal...or...wait a minute....

So, my grandparents just got back from California after visiting my aunt and uncle and their brand new baby. During their stay, my uncle came home one evening from work and announced that his car had been broken into. Of course he was annoyed and discouraged, and (because this is my family) the family was shocked and horrified.

"I know it was just kids because they took my entire folder of CD's," he told the family. He then added, "But that's okay, because every CD was full of our pastor's sermons."

God works in mysterious ways...

Josh's bedtime story

I have another guest star on my blog today. This morning the first thing out of Josh's mouth was a recap of last night's dream (not the first in a long series of off-the-wall dreams for him), so I told him that this one was definitely blog-worthy:

p.s. I know...it's not a shamrock. But for the purposes of this blog, it's an enhanced shamrock.

"So, I am in my Dad's bathroom. I have to go pee. I notice that the water level is too high: up to the seat. Uh oh! That should be fixed. I continue to go, and notice that the water level is staying the same (whew!) and I start to see a small squid! The ocean had creeped into Illinois, so this was to be expected. Now I notice more animals in the toilet bowl, which had become much bigger. One of the squids had a tiny tiny orange and white cat's head, except for no ears. At this point, the toilet looks like an spherical aquarium. I decide to use a plunger to fix the water level. After an exhaustive search beneath the toilet, I found the plunger and proceeded to start. There was a new problem. It was now a sink and I couldn't remove the little stopper in the drain, so I did what I used to do: open and close the drain repeatedly, with one hand on the stopper and one on the lever: phoom-phoom, phoom-phoom, phoom-phoom, etc. There were some unidentified bathroom cleaners, that I also sprayed in the water. Well, that all must of worked because the drain cleared right away and my sink-toilet was flushed. When I saw the white foam in there, I started to worry that I poisoned the environment. I didn't want to hurt the sea animals, after all."

What kind of family?

Okay...Josh and I just about died yesterday evening. We were eating our dinner like we always do (at the coffee table watching TV instead of at the brand new kitchen table and chairs we just purchased), and after flipping through several channels, we decided on the ABC Family Channel, which was airing "8 Simple Rules." We caught it toward the end of the show, but decided to keep watching, as "That 70's Show" was next in the line-up. I kinda thought about that for a minute...what's so "family" about a group of teenagers sitting around in a basement filled with an unnamed, yet obvious, smokey "substance?" But...whatever. Then we saw this little blip before the show:


It was kind of hard to get a picture, because it goes by so fast. But if you can't read it, it says "The following program contains material that may not be suitable for younger viewers. Parental discretion is advised."

Parental advisory on the family channel? That's like playing Alice Cooper on the Christian radio station.

But the last part is the real punchline: The ABC logo is missing because I couldn't get the picture at the right moment, but it says "ABC family: a new kind of family."

Fabulous!

Quote #1

It's been a bit since I've posted anything, so I thought that, in the interim, I'd leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

"I get my hair cut every two days. After all, your hair is your head-suit."
-Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin), 30 Rock

Church Bulletin Fun

Okay. We've all gotten the email forward about the church bulletin bloopers. Every time I get this email, I always wonder if they each really happened somewhere, or if someone made them up to be funny. Well, true or not, I've got a new one to add to the list. We found this in our church bulletin this morning and thought it was too funny. Check out the red boxed-in portion:

Now I know Jack

Since we've been in Greenville, Josh and I have made it a point to try a new restaurant almost every time we go out to eat. (If you're a faithful reader of his blog, you know this and are very familiar with his meals.) Thursday night, neither of us were in the mood to cook and we didn't have a lot of food in the house anyway. But we didn't want to spend a lot of money or time on a nice meal, so we went with fast food. Keeping with our new-restaurant committment, we went to Jack In The Box, as there are none in the Central Illinois area and neither of us had been to one. We prayed over our food that it wouldn't kill us (remember the JITB scandal from back in the day?) and took a bite. If people ever stopped eating at "the Box," it wasn't just because their burgers were murdering people. Yuckkkkkk! And we're not picky people (again, refer to Josh's blog-o-food). The staff was teenagery, there wasn't one clean table or chair, and there were boxes all over the place. However, the event was not a total loss, because they had these hillarious pictures on their walls. I know there's some light reflection issues, but you'll get the idea:

Jack, standing proudly in his high profile office against his mahogany bookcase backdrop.


Breakfast with Jack


Jack gone fishin'


Jack at home in his country estate

Miss Erin's Tea Party

On my lunches I like to take time away from everyone. So a lot of times that means I sit in my car and toast (I luuuuv it!) and do some journaling or Bible study or something. And to avoid questions from my co-workers about how I can sit in my car like that and fry, or why I just don't use the break room, I usually drive to a big parking lot somewhere and set up camp. So today I was on my way to the Walmart parking lot, when I spied a small coffee shop in a nearby mini-mall. Perfect! I pulled over and went inside.

Two people stood behind the counter, a girl, about 16, and a guy, maybe 17 or 18. The guy was obviously in charge in some way, because he asked the girl to take care of me so that he could get some other things done during the lull (I was the only customer to be seen). No problem. All I wanted was iced tea.

$2.46. For straight iced tea? Okay. Whatever.

First the girl handed me a clear plastic cup with a bubble lid. No ice. No straw.

"You have to make it yourself over there," she said, pointing to a counter of coffee and tea accoutrements.

Weird, but okay. I thanked her, thinking that all of that was available on the counter. I turned to find still no ice and no straw. But there was a big vat of tea, and it looked cold in its metal dispenser, and I really didn't need a straw, so I just went with it.

Having lived in "the south" for over a month, I have learned that the tea doesn't always come blank when you order it. So, in my great wisdom, I drained a little tea into my cup first to test it. Sweet, of course.

"Could I maybe get some non-sweetened tea?" I called to her behind the counter.

"Um, I don't think we have any unsweetened tea," she replied, even though I was staring at a box full of fru-fru tea bags proudly displayed on the coffee counter.

"Well," I asked, "can I just use one of these and make my own and just pour it over a cup of ice?"

I had stumped her.

"Uh...okay." She took my cup from me, filled it full of ice, and handed it back to me. Then she stared at me, wondering why I wasn't going back to my seat. Maybe she thought I had planned on rubbing my tea bag on the ice cubes and licking them.

"I'll need a cup of hot water, too." I coached.

"Uh...." At this point the other boy came back into the room to save her. "Where do we get the hot water?"

"From the coffee dispenser," he replied, referring to the red spigot that comes on all industrial coffee makers for just such an occasion.

She studied the machine. "Um, here?" She asked, pointing to some other silver button. The boy walked over to the machine and introduced her to the red spigot. She walked over to the stack of cups and grabbed a clear plastic one.

Oh, dear. I mentally slapped my own forehead.

"Not a plastic one," the boy instructed. The girl didn't understand why, but she got a regular paper coffee cup anyway. She then handed it to the boy to fill, because apparently this entire circus had shut her down.

I managed to sit down, make my tea (it was fabulous - green citrus), and journal for an entire half hour without cracking myself up.

God is calling...

Today I'd like to welcome a very special guest star to my blog. My good friend Lora emailed me yesterday with something completely blog worthy that happened to her, so I asked her if she'd mind sharing it with us. Take it away Lora!

"I took the kids (niece and nephew) to church Saturday evening. Peyton had never been to mass before. Jade has gone before. But Peyton is the one really curious about God and heaven, partly because he’s 4 and partly because his Daddy died and is in heaven. So we’ve had the talk about being quiet and good in church. Peyton loves my rosary book with all the pictures and knows what each picture means. He recognizes some of the same pictures in the stained glass windows and wall hangings and he explains each one in a loud whisper. But the funny thing is……..during the Eucharistic Prayer, when the priest is changing the bread and wine into the body of blood of Christ, the most solemn part of the mass, they ring the bells on the altar three different times. The first two times, this is what happened……

(ring, ring….ring ring) Peyton: 'I’ll get it! Hello?' with his little hand up to his ear."

Awesome.

Now I know my ABC's

Remember from yesterday my comment about finding a new liquor store? Today's story goes along with that comment, but first you'll need some highlights from last week's episode, so let's back up a bit...

Last Saturday night after Josh's show (Palmetto Statesmen Chorus) we both attended the afterglow. I was particularly excited to go to the afterglow, not necessarily to schmooze with chorus folks (strike one...), and not necessarily to hear some really good quartetting (strike two...). Being an experienced afterglow attendee, I expected a free wheeling, party type atmosphere with an array of libations to choose from. And it had been over a month since I had experienced my most favorite beverage in the wide world: THE MARGARITA. However, we arrived at the restaurant to find a Chinese buffet with beverage choices limited to water, tea, and Coke that in reality was probably something like "Tab" (Strike three!) So on the way home I begged Josh to pull off to a Bi-Lo (local large grocery chain) and I'd just pick up a bottle of pre-mixed margie and be on my way. He reluctantly obliged, even though we only had about ten minutes to spare, as in the County of Greenville it is illegal to sell any alcohol on Sundays, and we pulled in at 11:53 p.m. So I'm dashing around the store as they're making last calls from the register, and I can't find anything but aisles and aisles of wine and beer (see yesterday's post). Livid, I stomped back to the car and went margaritaless for another five days.

Flash forward to Thursday night. It's Independence Day Eve, we didn't have to work the next day, and we went on our margie hunt yet again. We tried two other grocery stores (not yet aware of the grocery store rule), two liquor stores, which were closed, and a gas station. Finally, not caring what anyone thought of our motives at this point, Josh just up and asked the gas station attendant, "Is there a place that we can find some liquor?" I about died. Obviously the persuit of anything harder than a spritzer in Greenville was the equivalent of looking for a "naughty lingerie" store. At that point we found out that it's illegal to sell hard alcohol after 7:00 p.m. on any night.

Okay...

So Friday we walked about a mile to the liquor store entitled "ABC Package Store" (?) in the middle of the afternoon thinking that the exercise would do us good (not thinking about having to carry the heavy glass bottles back home, wearing the brown paper bags like a scarlet letter) and finally, finally acquired the elements necessary for the almost perfect margarita (as I can't bring myself to spend $45 a bottle for the "choice" elements). All this drama got Josh to thinking about the county liquor laws, so today he Googled it. And this, my friends, is the punchline to this soliloquy:

1) Grocery stores and gas stations can only sell wine, beer, and non-alcoholic beverages (which is why they sell the mixers, but not the stuff to mix INTO the mixers).
2) Liquor stores must close by 7:00 p.m. and they CANNOT sell beer, wine, or non-alcoholic beverages (which is why they DO NOT sell the mixers to mix with the alcohol).
3) No Sunday sales.

and the best one...
4) All liquor stores must call themselves "ABC Package Store."



Like it's a secret code name. Like people are going to think you're just taking your mail to be properly boxed before sending. Like when people walk into "Brown Bag Video" in Peoria, passers by just think they're picking up "Daddy Daycare" or something. Anywho...

We probably won't have to visit a "Package Store" for a while, as it's not like we toss back shots with every meal, but at least next time we'll know the rules to the game.

Vegas...the Sequel

So after last night's enthusiasm over my new blog, I began to wonder how well this idea was going to work, because, let's face it...it's not every day that something so funny happens that it's worth writing about. Sometimes weeks go by and nothing happens - or we're just too involved in our own lives to pay any attention. This afternoon, however, my worries were laid to rest, as hilarity waited for me right around the corner...literally.

I've been needing a hair cut for about a week now, and since the weather had cooled a little due to the recent rain, I decided that a leisurely stroll to the much acclaimed "Express Clips" would fit the bill nicely. Not knowing exactly where it was, I took a path that was slightly out of the way to get there, which was just fine. I went ahead and took the slightly shorter path home though, and I'm soooooo glad that I did, for two reasons: 1) I found another liquor store. (We're a dry county, see, which means that the grocery stores don't sell anything but wine and beer, and those of you who know me well know that I have a fondness for margies...) 2) On the corner of Fairview Rd. and Harrison Bridge Rd. stood not only a little girl with a blue bucket, but her big brother and her father, this time holding a neon pink sign that read in big black lettering "HELP ME DANCE IN VEGAS!" The movement had spread to my own town! And now the whole family was involved in making their little girl's dreams come true. It's like that Reba McIntyre song "Fancy," where the family is really poor so the mom turns her daughter out as a prostitute.

I held back the giggles and gave her a dollar.

What happens in Vegas...

Okay, so here it is...the inaugural event. So Josh and I decided that we'd brave the crowds and go to Downtown Greenville for the Fourth of July festivities. We'd never been, having just moved here, and since we're single and fabulous (we're a single married couple) we figured that this must be what the fabulous Greenville people do, so we went. And yes, it was very fabulous, complete with trombone bands in courtyards, rock bands in store fronts, restaurants and shoppes open later than usual. We found it to be (for the most part) a very family friendly atmosphere. Lots of young families with strollers and little ones. No fights or drama or unnecessary tomfoolery. Main Street was packed, but overall a lovely scene. So we're shuffling up Main Street packed in a people pod, and we're stopped by a little girl, probably 8 or 9, holding a small, blue, plastic tub containing a little bit of cash. "Would you like to donate some money so that we can go to Vegas and dance?"

Excuse me?

Then about 50 feet down the sidewalk another little girl called out to the crowd, "Help us dance in Vegas!!!"

Okay, the practical person would figure out right away that they are on some sort of little girl dance team and they have a big competition or something out that direction. But, how funny is it to hear eight year olds in Greenville begging for strangers to help them make it to Vegas? I laughed all the way up Main Street.

Intro

Hey, all...

I've been inspired by my husband's blog to start one of my own, so here I go. I tried to keep one a few years ago when I was trying to have a "summer of Erin" fitness push, but that one tanked quickly (surprise, surprise) so it's been a little while for me. I've actually pondered for a few days what in the world I would write about that other people would actually want to read, and then it dawned on me tonight...I see funny stuff happen all the time and have no one really to tell about it. I tell Josh, and he laughs, and the moment passes, and it's done. Lost in the abyss of moments untreasured. So here ya' go - chuckle moments from me to you. All for the low, low price of reading this little corner of the interweb.