I think God would edit this

There's a church near my house that always has a "clever" saying on its sign. This week's says:

If a grave I'm nexting, it's because I drove while texting.

I have grown to accept that "texting" is now a real word -- as is "texted." I don't like it, but I'll accept it. I will not -- ever -- accept the word "nexting." What exactly is that sign even supposed to mean?

I would have accepted: If a grave I'm next in, it's because I drove while textin'. Or even a skewed rhyme of next in/texting. But not "nexting."

Because if that's the way our language is headed, there is no God!

I whine about the same old things

I will readily admit that I am a huge procrastinator. It's practically an art form. I will sometimes wait until Wednesday mid-day to finish up -- heck, start -- a story that's due by close of business Wednesday.

Still, I don't like being made to wait. For the past several weeks, I've gotten my test drive assignments at the last minute. Last week, I got the contact's name at noon on Wednesday. I can't push my deadlines back too far because these stories go to print Thursday.

This week, I got the contact information this morning (Monday) and called right away. Then called again a few hours later. I'm still waiting to hear back from the dealership. So, can I drive the car tomorrow or will it have to be Wednesday morning? On top of that, it looks like next week's test drive is still up in the air.

If I procrastinate on making phone calls or starting my story, I can only blame myself for feeling rushed. When I'm waiting around for other people who are procrastinating, I can blame them. I'd rather blame myself. Whining is so unbecoming.

Today in weird products

Current TV's "Infomania" (which you can watch here) has a segment called "We've Got You Covered." Which gives an overview of what's happening in magazines. Within that segment, they have something called "How the @#*! is this a magazine?" In that vein, I bring you "How the @#*! is this a real product advertised in a magazine?"

In the back of the S.O.'s "Men's Fitness," there is an ad for this product: The Goatee Saver. It's a template to help guys shave their goatee. Or as the Web site says, "an innovative grooming tool designed to give you the perfect goatee every time you shave."

I'm thinking the model on the Web site may have Photoshopped his goatee. I don't know any guy who has facial hair that looks quite like that. I'm also thinking if you need some kind of pattern to help you cut your goatee -- a template that you appear to have to hold in your mouth while you shave, no less -- maybe you should forgo the facial hair all together. It's just a thought.

On the other hand, "grooming perfection makes a perfect gift for that hard-to-buy-for guy."

Continuing the doggy theme

Now I get it.

Click comic to enlarge.

She's trying to rob me blind, not get yogurt!
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Yogurt tastes good, part II

As I said yesterday, Ripley loves yogurt. And even when I don't have yogurt for breakfast, she expects to have some -- to the point of not leaving me alone until I prove to her there's no yogurt.

See?



I guess I understand. I get like that about my coffee. Mmmm, coffee.

Yogurt tastes good

Ripley is the creature of habit. If you do something once, she remembers it forever. The S.O. let her lick the bowl after he finished his morning yogurt one day. Now, she begs for it everyday. Days we don't eat yogurt for breakfast are like torture. She'll whine. It will take us a bit to figure out why she's whining.

Of course, we have to have a conversation with her to try to figure it out.

Ripley: Ehnnn. Ehnnnn.
Me or the S.O.: What? What's wrong?
Ripley: Ehnnnn. Eeeeehnnnnnnn.
Human: What? What is it Ripley?
Ripley: Rarf! Rarf!
Human: What's that? Timmy's in the well?!?
Ripley: RARF! RARF! RARF!
Human: Well, that's not even possible. We don't have a well.
Ripley: Ehn.

But when we do have yogurt for breakfast, it looks something like this:

T. Rex doggie closes in on its prey.

Nom. Nom. Nom. Yogurt tastes good.
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Baby what now?

I have a lot of paid work to keep me busy this week, so ticking "write personal Blog post" off my to-do list seems like what I should really be doing right now, doesn't it?

One of the things keeping me busy is a story on the "Top 10 Kids' Gifts for 2009." I got lists from a certain toy store and will pare it down to 10. Pretty simple. As I'm looking at some of the toys and some of the trends, I see one trend is "Retro Rewind," with toys like the original Tickle Me Elmo, Strawberry Shortcake and Bop It. But what seems really retro to me is the name of a doll on the list: Little Mommy Baby Ah-Choo.

Little Mommy? Really. I know most boys don't play with dolls, but maybe that's because they're called things like this. Or maybe it's because boys are told boys don't play with dolls. The name makes me cringe, but the description makes me laugh.

Soak it in:

Baby Ah-Choo sneezes, wheezes and sniffles as kids squeeze her tummy in an attempt to nurse her back to health. Toddlers will love making Baby Ah-Choo “all better” with accessories, such as “a spoonful of medicine” and a thermometer that interact with this baby doll to elicit fun reactions. Featuring over 30 sounds and phrases, such as, “Can I have a tissue?” and “My nose is running,” Baby Ah-Choo comes with a box of tissues and medicine bottle, offering kids everything they need to “cure” the common cold. 3 “AA” batteries required (included). Ages 2 years and up.

I just can't get over the idea of squeezing "her tummy in an attempt to nurse her back to health." Bask in its awesomeness.