OMAR EDITION
WTF, Omar? Why haven’t you posted since May 28? I know my birthday was pretty exciting for everyone, but even I posted within a week of the big day.
Please don’t make me take further action.
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
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Category Archives: WTF
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
I’m headed to work this morning, listening to a local R&B station, and the Sean John song “Get Busy” comes on. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t say that I’ve really listened to the lyrics … and not 15 seconds in, I swear I hear my daughter’s name. OMFG … he did not just say “Anabella” I thought. So I listen … and wait … and I hear it again. OMFG.
As soon as I get to work I google the song lyrics and sure enough … Anabella. Telling her to shake her thing. Get jiggy. Get it on. WTF? Anabella isn’t exactly a super-common name. How did that happen?
Here’s a snippit …
Shake that thing miss kana kana
Shake that thing miss annabella
Shake that thing yan donna donna
Jodi and rebecca
Woman get busy, just shake that booty non-stop
When the beat drops
Just keep swinging it
Get jiggy
Get crunked up
Percolate anything you want to call it
Oscillate you hip and don’t take pity
Me want fi see you get live ‘pon the riddim when me ride
And me lyrics a provide electricity
Gal nobody can tell you nuttin’
Can you done know your destiny
Yo sexy ladies want par with us
Shake that thing yan donna donna
Jodi and rebecca
Woman get busy, just shake that booty non-stop
When the beat drops
Just keep swinging it
Get jiggy
Get crunked up
Percolate anything you want to call it
Oscillate you hip and don’t take pity
Me want fi see you get live ‘pon the riddim when me ride
And me lyrics a provide electricity
Gal nobody can tell you nuttin’
Can you done know your destiny
Yo sexy ladies want par with us
Please consider this an open letter to the music community … I beg you to write a nice love song/top-40 teeny bopper hit/musak tune using my daughter’s name. I can not tell you how annoyed I get when a middle-aged man sings “Help Me, Rhonda,” but at least that song doesn’t tell me to shake my ass and get “crunked” up.
Why oh why did I not name my child Beth or Mandy or Caroline or Janie or Roxanne …
“What the F*ck?” Wednesday
A**hole of the Month Update
I’ve been reading a lot about Michael Vick lately (the only recipient of The B.S. Cafe’s “A**hole of the month” award) … he’s out of jail, wants back into the NFL, blah blah blah. I really don’t care if he goes back to playing football. He did his time and quite frankly, there are probably lots of felons playing professional sports these days, but as an animal lover, I almost lost my sh*t when I saw that the Humane Society is considering Vick as a spokesperson for animal cruelty. http://hsus.typepad.com/wayne/2009/05/michael-vick.html
O.M.G. WTF? He probably regrets what he did … maybe for real or maybe for what it cost him … but I have serious doubts that in the depths of his soul he believes what he did was wrong. (If he didn’t know that drowning, torturing, electrocuting and beating dogs was wrong two years ago, he probably doesn’t get it now.) And I would laugh out loud if you put him in front of me to lecture on animal rights. Or maybe I would just punch you in the face for thinking I would fall for that.
Boulder Warfare
Has anyone else noticed the trend of putting large rocks on corners? Here are a few examples around my neighborhood:
This bothers me for three reasons:
1. What are you trying to protect? The grass? The curb? I’m confused.
2. If for some reason you had to drive up onto the curb to avoid an accident, or a pedestrian, or a small animal, or a person carrying a rock, you would hit that thing and totally FUBAR your car. Not even our Hummer would make it unscathed.
3. The fun in owning a SUV is being able to drive up on curbs, roll over medians, etc. Thanks for killing the joy.
— The B.S. Cafe is currently serving a strong desire to run something over.
“What the f*ck?” Friday
It’s all Dan’s fault this is late. Believe me, I am thinking “WTF?” all day every day, I just haven’t had time to post about it. (But he is home today, so he’s totally forgiven!)
So here’s two-weeks worth of “WTF?” stuff.
I’ve been worried about Swine Flu all week, and what I really should be thinking about is Shingles?
Ummm, maybe you are still a BACHELOR, because you can’t spell and you don’t even take the time to spell check before you emboss your car.
Hmmmm. Is a comment really necessary? Maybe if we left the head on the priest it wouldn’t seem so … you know.
Dear Range Rover: Why does my car love Nickelback so much? Nickelback is never playing and 96.5 is not an all-Nickelback station. How about giving me my Money-back for the piece of crap satellite radio that doesn’t know the difference between Nickelback and Taylor Swift?
P.S. What’s Scarlett sitting on today?
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
Dear “DNR European Café” owner:
I’ve been very hesitant to eat at your establishment, because here in the U.S. “DNR” stands for “Do Not Resuscitate.”
In that context, your tag line seems a little ominous, don’t you think? I’m here for lunch, not a toe tag.
Next time, you might want to run your name choices by a few locals before having the fancy sign made.
— The B.S. Café is now serving deadly yummy sandwiches from the DNR Café. Enjoy.
P.S. What’s Scarlett sitting on today? (Notice the sunglasses. You don’t want to be caught without them in a laundry basket!)
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
OMG, people … I am so over Twitter! (and Facebook, but today I will just rant about Twitter)
Why do I need to know what people are doing every second of every day? (in 140 characters or less)
I don’t care that much about what I am doing, so do I really need to hear what some random person from high school is having for lunch? I don’t even have a Twitter account and I still have to hear about tweeting all day long. People just can’t stop talking about tweeting and twittering and the news is all about who twittered this or tweeted that.
WTF??? If you have me cut open, and I catch you tweeting about it, you better hope I die on the table, because I am so gonna beat your a** when it’s all said and done. Don’t you have something better to do? (Like poke someone on Facebook via your iPhone?!)
— The B.S. Cafe is now serving … capers! WTF is up with this caper hell on my bagel ? I like capers, but 50+ (I stopped counting at 50) on 1/3 of a bagel is ridiculous. And not only did they try to kill me with capers, but they hid them under the lox. Very sneaky.
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
WTF is up with these “toddler” shoes? Why why WHY would you put a one-inch heel on a shoe for a baby? Poor Scarlett would kill herself in these things. She trips just running around bare-footed. What’s going to happen when I put a 1-1/2 year old in wedges? What’s next, Miracle Bras for the elementary school girls?
I would also like to know WTF is up with the toddler terrorism going on at our house (Anabella!). Besides the general sassiness (“I’m sorry, but I am NOT going night-night!”), we’ve (Anabella!) now taken to evil misdeeds.
Last Saturday morning Dan and Scarlett were napping, and I let Anabella draw with markers under my careful supervision. I got up to use the restroom and when I came back, not only had she drawn all over her arms and legs, but her lips were also colored blue and my ottoman looked like this.
WTF? I was gone for 60 seconds! When I asked her why she did it, she just shrugged. Clearly, this was a premeditated thing.
Toddler mind games … Anabella – 1, Mommy – 0.
— The B.S. Cafe is now serving gratitude to Baby Jesus for the invention of washable markers.
P.S. What’s Scarlett sitting on today?
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
A friend in the neighborhood is expecting her second child, so a few of us decided to throw her a little pampering party. (Because people are incredibly reluctant to agree to an actual baby shower for their second. What’s up with that? It’s not like we asked you to wear white pants before Memorial Day.) Manis, pedis, brunch and mimosas at a local salon … and the only gifts were diapers. Easy. We divided the food list up and it was done.
Last Saturday, I called the girls to make sure we had everything covered. Nam, who was handling cake and fruit salad, tells me she hasn’t really figured out the petit fours yet, but she’s on it. This was at 5 p.m. on Saturday for an 11 a.m. party on Sunday. I give her a little tough love and figure she will just get a cake at the grocery store and be done with it.
On Sunday morning, she shows up with these …
Of course we all ooh and ahh about how cute and fabulous they are. Come to find out, she MADE them. Not only that, she’s never made petit fours before, she just decided to try. Oh, and they were delicious. And the flowers? She made those too. Out of gum paste (whatever that is).
WTF? I guess next time I should just worry about my hash brown casserole and leave Nam alone. Not that I expect any less from her. She’s one of those Super Moms who has it all under control. Three children under 4 … no problem. Nurse twins? Handled it. Baby books? All done. (I’m still working on Anabella’s.) Completing her PhD. Uh huh.
Luckily, she’s really laid back and cusses like a sailor, so we can still be friends even when she shows up with professional-looking petit fours that she just threw together the night before.
— The B.S. Cafe is now serving pastry envy.
P.S. What’s Scarlett sitting on today? HOLY CRAP it’s an actual chair!
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
This is my 73rd “WTF? Wednesday” post … and amazingly, it’s the first one that is about me. Although I guess it would be kind of sad to be disgusted with your own ridiculousness more than once or twice a year.
So, here’s the story. In an effort to reduce expenses (and lessen frustration), I decided to switch our Internet and TV service to AT&T. They offer several ways to save money, including consolidating services. After taking stock of our current accounts, here is what I discovered … we have a sh*tload of phone numbers.
- The home phone
- Rhonda personal cell
- Dan personal cell
- Rhonda business cell
- Dan business cell
- Rhonda home office phone
- Dan home office phone
- Rhonda home office fax
- Dan home office fax
If you add my business office phone to the list, I have a total of 6 phone numbers and Dan has 5.
WTF is wrong with us? Why do we have so many phones? I can’t even tell you that last time one of us used the damn fax machine. Alexander Graham Bell is probably turning over in his grave.
And the really ridiculous part is that you can probably only reach me 50% of the time regardless of how many phones I have.
— The B.S. Cafe is now serving … 867-5309.
P.S. The answer to your most burning question — “What’s Scarlett sitting on today?” — is …
“What the f*ck?” Wednesday
I really don’t know where to start… so many things have made me think “what the f*ck?!” this week.
1. From my personal life …. WTF is up with the manager at the Range Rover dealership acting like he didn’t receive any of the 5 messages Dan and I have left for him over the last three weeks? He blank-faced said “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Really? Are you sure? Cause the message had your name on it. Has there been some catastrophic mishap with your phone system?
2. The ending of The Bachelor. WTF WTF WTF? I really don’t know what I think, or if I even care, but I was shocked that Jason seemed like a nice, normal person … and he wound up being more of a train wreck than most of the others. And he dragged his 3-year-old son into the mud with him. That was BS.
3. Kami (a “dancer”) who left Rock of Love Bus 3 because she couldn’t handle Bret being with other women. WTF? Hello idiot girl, did you not watch the first two seasons? The whole point is for Bret to be with other girls…lots and lots of other girls. And I find it extra interesting that you think a rock star (that term is used loosely in this instance) is not going to ho around with a bunch of skanks when they are all thrown together on a bus.
4. Then there was this lady at lunch. You have to look really closely (as this was taken on the DL with my iPhone) to see that this woman is wearing zebra panties under these white pants. I promise it was VERY noticeable in person. WTF, lady? Who does that? This isn’t Rock of Love Bus … it’s friggin noon at Party City for f*ck’s sake!
— The B.S. Cafe is now serving crazy pills. (An extra one for you, Stasa.)