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Repost: My Real Resume

My asbestos friend, Lazy Hippie Mama, recently ordered blogger cards. She is thinking of her blog more as a business.

I am not.

But I still wanted to order really cute cards, although I have absolutely no reason to ever hand them out to anyone. This got me wondering what to put on them as my title. Currently they say: Blogger. Writer. Untapped Creative Mind. I went back to one of my first posts I did for more ideas. It did not help.

But the old post is still funny, so here it is again for your reading enjoyment…

Can I use this as letterhead on my cover letter?

Can I use this as letterhead on my cover letter?

Original link:

-Population Control
-Domestic Administrator
-Personal Shopper
-Budget Overlord
-Time Management
-Records Archive Director
-Hair Stylist
-Closet Organizer

-Part-time Nanny
-Diaper Quality Inspector

-Technology Expert
-Furniture Mover
-Entertainment Committee

-Wildlife Relocation Specialist

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


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

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

-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.

Friday Funny

Happy Friday Everyone!

Opti-Mist: Spray this on my glasses every mornin', my outlook still doesn't improve

Opti-Mist: Spray this on my glasses every mornin’, my outlook still doesn’t improve

Deep Philosophical Question from First Graders

A lot of people seem to be impressed with the things I can remember from my childhood. I always figure this great recall comes from the fact that I was bored and didn’t do much the first 21 years of my life, so I could replay memories of those years over and over in my head. It sort of cemented those things in my head–the good, the bad, the inaccurate.

I might be able to remember character names from Jem & the Holograms from 1989, but let me assure you that I cannot remember what I just walked into the kitchen for. I blame my son for my current state of not being able to remember even the simpliest of information.

So, how crazy is it that a joke I first heard in first grade still haunts me to this day? It is a deep philosophical question with NO GOOD ANSWER!!! And therein lies the beauty of the joke. No matter how you answer, there is a way for your classmates to laugh at you. In fact, this may have been what cemented in my mind that the world is full of a**holes.

Are you ready?

Here goes…


Well…Are you?

Answer “no”. No always seems like a safe assumption, right?


JOKE TELLER’S RESPONSE: Ew, you aren’t potty trained?!

So, the next time you get asked, you go for yes. Because if you are like 7 of course you are potty-trained (or else would lie and say that you are).



JOKE TELLER’S RESPONSE: You are a pregnant teenager!!!

Now, I have no idea why this joke still bothers me. I mean, in first grade no one really understands how anyone even really gets pregnant, except the teacher. And her uterus is shriveling up at an alarming rate from being around a whole classroom of other people’s snot-nosed kids everyday. And if your age is still in single digits, there is no way anyone is going to consider you a teenager.

But I think it bothers me that the question poses a no-win outcome.

And it is so advanced, you know no first grader made it up. They probably got it off the Internet. Oh, wait, no….early 1980’s…  They probably got it from an older sibling.

I always thought I should come up with an original idea of something good that “PT” could stand for to outwit them, but I never did. I am not naturally very smart-alacky. But if I spend a few hours around someone who is, I can usually pick it up and almost hold my own. (Like my brother-in-law. Or my husband’s best friend. Man, I am glad my husband isn’t like that. It is mentally draining to try to keep up with people with those gifts.)

Physics Teacher. (No wait, I HATED the physics teacher at our high school.)

Pony Trainer. (Oh, that’s just lame. See, this is hard!)

Parrot Tracker. (OK, now I am just giving up.)

So, how about you?

Are you PT?

C’mon, are you?

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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