Tag Archives: humor

Poop Voucher

It is just something my husband started.

He would be looking for me in the house and I would be in the bathroom and he would say through the door,”Are you pooping again? Do you have a poop voucher for that?”

What is a poop voucher? I asked myself and him the same question. It is just some imaginary tool he invented to torture me with. So, then I played the game to try and get back at him.

“Are you pooping? You used up all your poop vouchers for this week (or month, etc.),” I would hassle him.

“I am borrowing from next week,” he would reply, or something equally smart ass.

There is no strict allowance or number of vouchers that you get for a time period. Because poop vouchers are entirely imaginary.

Until now.

Behold, the Poop Voucher!


In order to get back at my husband, I spent one night designing an actual poop voucher, according to what it looks like in my head. (My husband fell asleep that night before I got it done to show him.)

The next morning I showed him, and he insisted we make copies. He wanted them big. I wanted them small. I printed off a small batch and a medium batch before we felt like it was a waste of printer ink.

My husband made up some lame, arbitrary rules (he says “overly complicated and unnecessary rules”) for how to use them. Like the big vouchers could only be used Thursday through Monday, except on birthdays, religious holidays, anniversaries, reunions, etc. The little vouchers could only be used Tuesday through Monday 1:15PM EST until 11:31AM PST, with the same exceptions, also excepting February 29th of leap years and the first Thursdays of the month. (No pooping on birthdays? That’s harsh. I guess I know what I will wish for when I blow out the candles.) I laughed til I cried and told him there was no way that I could remember all that.

After my son carried a few vouchers around the house, I realized how very not water-resistant poop vouchers are. Then I laminated them with packing tape. (Yes, I realize at this point I have spent an unusually long amount of time on a product that is just an inside joke between my husband and I. But it makes for a great blog, don’t you think?)

Laminated Poop Vouchers. That is a lot of steaming piles of poo…


There is still no hard and fast number of poop vouchers to be allotted each week. We did agree as long as my son is in diapers, he is off the voucher system. We still have no collection arrangement for them–although I think my son’s shape sorter might handle this job nicely. I asked my husband just today when he came out of the bathroom,”Hey, did you use a poop voucher?”

Possible voucher collection device


“It’s in the living room,” he replied.

Why has the legend of the poop voucher persisted in our household?

I think it all comes down to the fact that it just sounds funny to say “poop voucher”. Heeheehee.

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My Real Resume

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ROLES & RESPONSIBILITIES

Wife
-Population Control
-Domestic Administrator
-Chef
-Personal Shopper
-Budget Overlord
-Time Management
-Scheduler
-Zookeeper
-Records Archive Director
-Historian
-Psychic
-Hair Stylist
-Concubine
-Closet Organizer

Mom
-Part-time Nanny
-Teacher
-Nurturer
-Photographer
-Diaper Quality Inspector

Daughter
-Chauffeur
-Technology Expert
-Furniture Mover
-Entertainment Committee
-Slave

Homeowner
-Wildlife Relocation Specialist

Asbestos Friend
-Thrower of Baby BBQs
-Accomplished email time suck

SPECIALTIES

Specializing in entertainment trivia, offbeat humor, & good hygiene.

Skills
-10 key calculator
-Disaster preparedness
-First Aid administrator
-Amateur weather prediction
-American Red Cross Dog First Aid certified
-Blogger Extraordinaire

Education
-Was on high school honor roll 22 of 24 marking periods.
-Accomplished this while watching 58 hrs of television a week.
-Graduated .03 GPA from a summa cum laude in college.
-Learned not to be different in any way thanks to Middle School.
-Only missed one word all year in 4th grade spelling (stupid “Caynon”. I MEAN CANYON!!!).
-Co-Editor of high school newspaper.

Desired Salary
$2,000,000 the first year, and $1,000,000 each year thereafter, plus a $1,000,000 signing bonus.
Fame to go with my fortune would be considered a bonus.

Mother’s Day is a Fake Holiday.

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Mother’s Day is a fake holiday. So is Father’s Day. And Valentine’s Day. And Sweetest’s Day. And Adminitrative Professional’s Day.

Now, Memorial Day, that is a real holiday. Everyone comes together at parades or cemeteries or barbeques. We spend a day enjoying the freedoms (and a day off work) that centuries of soldiers’ have fought & possibly lost their lives for. My dad drove an ambulance in Germany in World War II. He was there when they liberated one of the concentration camps. He died before I was born. But many years after the war, of a heart attack. When I was young, my mom & I would often go to the cemetery. We would put down flowers made of fabric & plastic at his grave, or check on the ones we had put previously. I think that is why Memorial Day is my favorite holiday. There are not many holidays where part of a proper celebration (Note the word PROPER–>for you slackers who sleep in & don’t give a few seconds of thanks to our veterans!) includes going to the cemetery. So, it was sort of the one holiday of the year where my whole family was together. Plus, there are no underlying religious connotations like Christmas & Easter have (unless you count “God Bless the USA”), since I do not actually believe in God. Everyone who lives in the United States of America can participate in the day’s true meaning.

As part of my new traditions, I try to work in a pancake breakfast to support local firefighters & purchase chicken BBQ for lunch from the local American Legion. But at the heart I know what the holiday is really for. Looking at Old Glory seems a little more meaningful on Memorial Day.

Here is the moral of the story: You are in contact with your mother, father, valentine, sweetheart, and secretary almost every day. You should be appreciating them (and telling them and showing them) daily. It is easy for us to go from day to day in our lives & forget about all the sacrifices made by people we have never even met & never will (including, sometimes, one’s own father). That is why we NEED Memorial Day, to stop & give thanks. And maybe buy paper plates & napkins for the BBQ with stars & stripes on them. As long as they aren’t made in China.

Will you be my Facebook friend?

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I gave in & signed up for Facebook. I didn’t want to, but I feel as though there is a slim possibility it could help me get a new job. Maybe through networking, or maybe updating a company’s Facebook could end up being part of my job. Plus, I think it makes me look like I can figure it out. Which, at this point, I haven’t quite done yet.

I resisted Facebook for a very long time, as you can tell by the year on the calendar reading 2011. Mostly because when I had a MySpace.com account (I know, no one has them anymore, I don’t even have mine, don’t give me that face), none of my friends would sign up & be my friend on it. I can hold a grudge for a very long time. Also, I believe that Facebook is a giant time suck. I don’t like my life being sucked away. And people always seem to get more into Facebook AFTER they have kids. How can that be? My kid needs constant feeding & diapering & attention & holding & does not like to sit in front of the computer (the pictures on the screen don’t move as often as on the TV).

So, last night, within a half hour of me creating an account, my inlaws & my inlaws’ inlaws had found me & requested to be my friend. And I accepted, because I got all excited that people liked me. I forgot that I wanted to learn how to use it before I started adding people and looking like a dork. I am also too new at Facebook to realize that someone wanting to “friend you” doesn’t really mean anything except they like to watch the count of their friends increase. They would probably friend the rear side of a donkey if it had a bow tied to it’s tail. (What?)

My friend said that she sent me something on Facebook today. I asked if I would be able to find it. She said I would see it when I logged in. I logged in. I told her,”All I see is a whole pile of crap from everyone else.” She responded: Well, yes. Thats pretty much a summary of facebook. “A whole pile of crap from everyone.” I figured out I needed to click on my name to see only my crap. Next up: figuring out how to upload pictures of my adorable child.

The good news is one of my best friends from high school, who was the maid of honor in my wedding, who I have not heard from in 5 years, friended me already. Maybe she will drop me a line sometime in the next 5 years. Here’s hoping.

PS–So far Linkedin is WAY more addictive than Facebook. What could be more fun than connecting with coworkers, former bosses, and updating your resume 12 times a day:)