My daughter’s MDO (mother’s day out) held an “end of the year” recital in May (each class sang several little songs), but when we sat down, I was surprised to see a graduation was to be held at the end of the program. “Who’s graduating?” I wondered. I soon found out that it was the Pre-K class. WTF? Who graduates from preschool???

And though it was cute to see all the four year olds in little caps and gowns…

…it was completely ridiculous. First of all, these kids had NO clue what was going on. They had to be pushed on to stage when their name was called. And second, what’s the message there? Congratulations kiddos, you can color in the lines and sing the ABC song! You are on your way!

I have since heard someone speaking of going to a fifth-grade graduation and someone else was at an 8th grade graduation. I realize I’ve been out of high school for a few decades, but the only graduations we had were high school and college. Period.

Doesn’t having several “graduations” before your senior year of high school sort of take away from the feeling of accomplishment? And I hate to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but it sounds like the cap and gown industry has a major shakedown going on. It’s not like you won’t buy the attire for your kid’s graduation, right?

Congratulations, reader! You made it to the end of my post, so you have officially graduated from reading my blog today. Please move your tassel to the left as you exit.

Back story: Up until 8 years ago, I was a career girl climbing the corporate ladder. And like every smart single gal, I had a company 401K. At the urging of my then fiancé (now my hubby), I quit my job and started working as an independent consultant. So naturally, I had to move my corporate 401K to a personal IRA. Simple, yes?

WTF? WTF? WTF? Not only did they have to hunt me down for a current address, but they had to spend the money to print this out and mail it to me. And I love how I have three cents, but am only vested to one penny. F*cking ridiculous.

I’m sure you all know what I am thinking here, but let’s go ahead and say it out loud anyway.

WTF, dude? As if the highways aren’t dangerous enough with all the idiots on cell phones or texting or reading the paper, you decide to pile as much as crap as you can on top of your truck and hit the road?! Did you really look at this before you took off and say, “yeah, that looks safe”? I was too scared to even PARK next to you, much less drive behind you. Geesh.

Ok, I really don’t know what to say here besides WTF? It’s a LINCOLN. Not a Rolls or a Bentley. I do not get this. It looks ridiculous. Period.

First, WTF is an 80-year-old man doing on a motorcycle? And second, if you need training wheels, you should probably consider some other form of transport. I’m just saying.

WTF is going on at my neighbor’s house? This dude made several trips with that can. How much paper can you possibly need to shred?

WTF is up with the spiders making homes on my car? They spin webs every night between my side mirror and the window. I don’t like making them homeless but I don’t particularly care for spiders either. This one couldn’t even wait until I got back home to start again! I think he was living behind the mirror, but his sticky little paws couldn’t hang on past 45 MPH.

WTF is up with this paint job?

I haven’t been to jail lately (I’ve only been once…in my early 20’s…and it was just a big misunderstanding. ha ha ha), but I am fairly positive that I don’t want my bail bondsman to show up in this to get me out.

One, I think being in jail is serious business and the smiley face doesn’t give me confidence that they are taking my incarceration seriously. And two, I am pretty sure this guy is a pimp…and I don’t want to owe money to a pimp. That can’t be good.

#2…literally

I am going to break my own WTF rule and reopen the poopy discussions. Only because I walked out into my front lawn and saw this recently…

That is a size 9 shoe. WTF kind of bird makes a poop that big? A friggin‘ condor??

(If you desire more poopy talk, go here… http://aintitfunny-rhonda.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-fck-wednesday-belated-lets-talk.html)

Oh, where to start? Let’s see. First, WTF is up with this poor dog? Notice a problem? I didn’t. (WTF is wrong with my sense of observation?)

I recently had a few moments of alone time to do a little shopping and found myself thinking “WTF?” at nearly every turn. Just a few examples…

I know trends get recycled, but are we really bringing the “Yo-Yo” back? It wasn’t that great the first time around.

All I could think when I saw this lovely, gold metallic number was…”HEY GOLDMEMBER!”

Please tell me if you would wear this. I must know who you are.

Bag O’ Undies???? For only $6…what a deal!

Sorry, but I am not buying a Bag O’ anything unless it’s a Bag O’ Cocktails.

As you can see below, YouTube apparently got wind of my little rant and decided to post the video to my blog 100 times. I will go delete at least a few of them later, but I wanted you all to see that it is in fact YouTube that is being a jerk, not me.

And please, for the love all things good and just, go watch the damn video if you haven’t see it already, and then tell me how great it is…because I have been completely tormented trying to post it here.

I have been trying to post a video to this blog for THREE days. Every time I get the little message that says “this video will be posted to your blog shortly” and yet, it never shows up. WTF, YouTube?! Don’t you guys have like BILLONS of dollars? Why can’t you make your sh*t work right?! Are you trying to make me even more crazy than I already am?! ARGH!!!

Whew. Okay, I feel much better now.

Or, let’s not. I know it’s probably my own fault for blogging about Anabella and her fascination with poop, but somehow, I opened a secret door and everyone now wants to talk to me about poop. I’m stranded in Poopy Universe, if you will.

My sister-in-law quit going to her bunko group a few years back because the women (a group she called “the poopy girls”) were always talking about bathroom stuff…their bathroom issues, their husbands’ bathroom issues, their kids’ bathroom issues, etc. At the time, I really didn’t believe that a group of women couldn’t find something else to gab about. But now that I am in Poopy Universe, I totally get it.

It started out slow enough. A good friend with a nickname based on a poopy story (you know who you are!)…fine, that’s funny. No problem. Then Anabella and all her shenanigans. Definitely a problem, but not much I could do about it. Next came all the poopy talk with the moms at Anabella’s school…who is playing with their poopy, who isn’t, etc. And of course the poopy talk with the teachers about potty training.

But the real fun was at the Hummer dealership. I am sitting in the salesman’s office and he is showing me all the goodies that come with the truck. Then he hands me my big owner’s manual and says “this is some good reading for the pooper.”

WTF? Then, I actually find myself gearing up for the explanation that I don’t read in the bathroom…that I am more of a “get in and get out” kind of girl…but I said to myself “the poopy talk stops here!” I don’t want to talk about what I do or don’t do in the bathroom with the dude who sold me a car. That’s just not right. I refuse.

So I am on poopy hiatus…at least for a week or two. And if you find you don’t have anything to say unless you are talking about poop, then here is something for you to “read of the pooper.” Apparently there is a whole “Institute” dedicated to that very activity!