Eye Have It

My MIL <---(mother-in-law, for those of you who aren't up to puter' lingo like me), is a woman who exudes dignity, respect, and honor. A reverence washes over me every time I'm in her presence. She's a very noble woman, full of integrity and intelligence---which is why I am so baffled at how much she enjoys hearing, "LaRae Stories." I can honestly say that whenever I am in her presence, I try my hardest to control my "doofus" gene.

Case in point: When my MIL <--(mother-in-law, just in case you didn't catch the puter lingo to first time) was in the hospital recovering from gallbladder surgery, hubby and I went to visit her. Two of her daughters, my SIL <--(sister's-in-law---same as MIL, only you put an S where the M is) were there. Awww . . . they are such good children.

Anyway . . .

My MIL's <--(mother's-in-law---notice the additional appostrophe and letter s), stomach was really tender cuz of her stitches. She could hardly breathe without discomfort, let alone laugh---so I was alerted to be on my best "undoofus" behavior.

All was going really well until June (name changed to protect the innocent) brought up what happened when Aunt Maggie (named also changed to protect the innocent) when she was recently in the hospital for an unrelated incident.

"What happened?" I innocently asked, proud of how well I'm controlling my doofus gene.

She answered, "Apparently, when she was eating her lunch (yuck---hospital food), her eye fell out---right on to her food."

Shocked, I replied (with wide eyes, I might add), "That's AWFUL!!!!!" I was aghast! After thinking for a moment I added, "It probably helped the hospital food taste better though."

"Don't make me laugh." MIL struggled with pain.

"Sorry."

I quietly listened to the rest of the story. Everyone commented on how embarrassing it musta been for Aunt Maggie (not real name).

I'm thinking, "Embarrassing? I would be more worried about my eyeball in the food. How come they're not worried about her EYEBALL?" I kept quiet.

After everyone was through discussing poor Aunt Maggie's embarrassment, I wanted to let everyone know that I could indeed participate in a serious conversation . . . so I said, "That reminds me of when a pre-school teacher friend of mine told me about how a little boy's eye fell out---right onto his lap!---but his eye was fake."

I'm lookin' around the room, proud that I could contribute.

Dead silence filled the room.

"What?" I asked.

The siblings <--(I don't know the puter' initials for siblings) looked at each other. They looked at their mother <---(don't know the initials for mother either), then at me and burst out laughing.

"Don't make me laugh." MIL muttered in pain.

"What?" I'm looking around for the answer to what was so funny.

In unison, the SIL's asked, "Did you think Aunt Maggie's eye was her REAL eye?"

"Yes?" I questioned.

Dead silence again.

Another roar of laughter filled MIL's hospital room. "Quit making me laugh!" was MIL's painful plea.

"What? What's so darn funny?" I'm getting a little miffed.

Finally, June (not real name---although, I don't know if she's so innocent now) said, "Aunt Maggie's eye was fake too! REAL eyes don't just fall out of their sockets, you know."

"They don't? After hearing Aunt Maggie's story, I was thinkin' that they could."

"Okay, that does it!" MIL squeaked out inbetween breaths. Looking directly at me she said, "You have to go now. One of my stitches just split open."

Feeling REAL sorry for me, hubby gets my coat and escorts me out of MIL's room.

"You can visit when Mom's stitches are out." Jin (the other SIL whose name has been changed to protect the not so innocent) yelled out as hubby and I walked down hospital hall.

So much for controling my "Doofussy Genetical Defect."

LESSON LEARNED: Check for eyeballs when you eat hospital food.

I can't believe I said, "Yes!"

Guess who the city manager asked to help with my city's emergency plan?

No . . . guess again.

Wrong---try again.

No---it's not my hairdresser.

Um . . . er . . . a . . . You're not very good at this, are you.

Here's a clue---READ THE FIRST SENTENCE!

Okay, okay, I'll tell you----ME! Can you believe that?

Me neither.

So . . . You'd think that I would just pass out flyers and take the easy way out. You'd think that someone of my limited physical abilities would just make phone calls, huh.

You'd think that, huh . . . but . . . noooooooo .. . . not me . . . I'M A DOOFUS, remember? I have to make things as hard as I can.

Yah, instead of passing out flyers or making phone calls, I'm throwing a "Military" party. I'm organizing sections of the neighborhood in platoons, with captains over each platoon. I'm giving "marching" orders to meet at a designated location where all the other platoons can meet.

Instead of sumthun easy like flyers, I'm having cruddy "grub" at a cruddy "mess hall."

I'm having a boot camp where the platoons compete against each other for cruddy prizes.

I'm having each platoon march down the road carrying a huge American Flag.

I'm giving out cruddy prizes and awards and special recognizition to the "real" military families who live in our neighborhood.

I'm thinking of every hard thing I can do.

"Why," you ask?

I'll tell you why, "Cuz I'm a Doofus---that's why!"

I gotta meet with the person I "recruited" to be in charge of the Boot Camp.
I gotta meet with the people preparing the cruddy grub.
I gotta meet with the person I "recruited" to be in charge of the honors ceremony.
I gotta get information to all the captains to give to everyone in their platoons.
I gotta make salt dough star refrigerator magnets.
I gotta make salt dough heart pins.
I gotta prepare the "Draft Paper" invitations.
I gotta assign someone to set up the "mess hall."
I gotta assign someone to clean up the "mess."
I gotta do a lot more stuff . . .

That looks like a lot of stuff to do, doesn't it.

What a "maroon." <---my Bugs Bunny impersonation.

Hmmmm . . . I think that instead of calling in sick, I'm gonna give a big "HurRah" and call in dead.

LESSON LEARNED: When I was approached to do this assignment, I acted dumb,(sadly, I didn't have to act)---it didn't help. Next time I get asked to do something, instead of acting dumb (<----in my case, there was no acting involved), play DEAF and dumb (<---which doesn't require acting).

Why Doesn't This Shake Weight Shake?

It's hard being a Doofus. I don't know if I've ever told anyone that---BUT IT IS!!!!!!

For instance: For Mother's Day, Brad (my son), asked what I would like.

I had seen a "Shake Weight Thingie" (<----Official Technical Term) advertised on tv. It looked GREAT! The Shake Weight models on tv looked like they were just holding the "Shake Weight Thingie" (<---Official Technical Term) while it shook! The tv ad said that this type of exercise is MUCH more effective than using free weights.

My first thought was, "Sign me up!" "I want one of those "Shake Weight Thingies!" (<--- Official Technical Term, although, you really should know that by now).

"Just think of it!" I told myself. "All I have to do is hold the weight while it shakes for me! What could be easier than that?" I'm all for easy, ya know.

So . . . my Brad ordered the "Shake Weight Thingie" (<---Official Technical Term, you ought to be getting the hang of) and I waited with "baited" breath . . . or . . . baited "unbreath," since I don't breathe very well. I couldn't "WAIT" for my "Shake Weight Thingie" (<---- okay, enough is enough) to arrive.

After waiting for "an eternity," it finally came. "Woo Hoo!"

I grabbed that package and tried to rip it open with my arthritic hands. Didn't work. So---Brad grabbed it and ripped it open with his man hands.

I grabbed the opened package from his man hands with my arthritic hands and held the "Shake Weight Thingie" (<--- aw, c'mon) and held it tight. Nuttin'. I looked at the top of it. I looked at the bottom. I looked for an "On" Off" switch. Nuttin'. So . . . I held it tight some more. Still nuttin'.

Brad's watching me this whole time wondering what the heck I'm doing.

Finally I said, "Hey, this "Shake Weight Thingie" (<---OTT . . . Official Technical Term---crud, I can't help myself), doesn't work. It's not shaking!" I was SO disappointed.

Brad took it from me. Read the box and instructions and said, "YOU are supposed to shake it."

"Me?" Looking at him like he is crazy. "But, but . . . those models on tv didn't have to shake theirs."

He read the instructions out loud. Basically it said that there are no batteries cuz the person holding the "Shake Weight Thingie" (<--- you know) has to shake it for it to work.

I responded, "If I had known that I had to shake it myself, I woulda just grabbed my free weights and shook THEM! What a rip off."

LESSON LEARNED: When you see a tv model that has "ripped" shoulders, biceps and triceps, it's NOT BECAUSE OF A "SHAKE WEIGHT THINGIE" (<---- Official Rip-Off Name)

Is South America in South Africa?

It's hard being a Doofus. I lose lots of money and "low talker" (refer to my 1st blog) friends because of it.

Let me explain:

A while ago, a guy from South AFRICA heard that I was an artist---or played one on t.v. He contacted me and asked if I could do some artwork for a project that he was doing. He was hoping to market his project in America and South AFRICA.

"Woo Hoo," I thought. "I can make lots of money if his product sells well in America and South AFRICA!"

"Yes, yes!" I told him. "Why don't you come over to my house and we can discuss what kind of artwork you want."

"Great!" He answered. He sounded almost as excited as I was.

We made an appointment for the next day. When he arrived, I was full of anticipation and couldn't wait to hear what it was that he wanted to do. I also loved his accent.

He told me what he had in mind and said that he needed artwork to go along with it---you know, to depict the country that he was from---South AFRICA.

"Oh, yes!" I enthusiastically agreed. His eyes lit up. I asked, "So you want me to draw "Aztec" artwork around the borders?"

Puzzled, he looked at me and replied, "No . . . I was thinking more along the lines of elephants, tigers, lions . . . "

I interrupted him. "No, you want Aztec'ky' looking stuff . . . you know like Aztec symbols and stuff like that."

He said very slowly, "Nooooo . . . I would like elephants, tigers and lions---South AFRICAN stuff."

I saw his eyes "unlight."

I got impatient and repeated, "Yah, like Aztec'ky' stuff."

"No . . . like animals and stuff."

I could plainly see that we weren't on the same page . . . or to him, the same continent. We were both getting frustrated. I couldn't believe that he didn't want Aztec drawings for South AFRICA and he couldn't believe that I wanted to draw Aztec'ky' looking stuff for South AFRICA.

Obviously he left without signing me up to do his artwork. No "lots of money" for me. Wahhh.

When hubby got home, he asked how my meeting went with the guy from South AFRICA.

I answered, "Can you believe that he didn't want Aztec'ky' artwork to depict his native South AFRICA?"

Hubby shook his head. I heard a couple of screws rattle around. Then he asked, "Was this guy from South America or South Africa?"

I asked, "What's the difference?"

He shook his head again.

"What?" I innocently asked.

He tried to explain that there was indeed a difference.

Trying to defend myself, I quipped, "But, but, it's all so confusing. They BOTH start with the same initials, you know, S & A. I get 'em confused. Besides . . . I thought that South America was in South Africa or the other way around---I get confused."

"Obviously." was hubby's forlorn reply.

"It's an easy mistake." I was still pleading my case.

"Not really," hubby replied.

I still have a hard time remembering that South America and South Africa aren't the same place. If only they didn't share the same first letters---you know, S & A.

LESSON LEARNED: Next time offer to draw Aztec'ky' stuff AND safari animals.

A Day in the Life of a Doofus

It's hard being a Doofus . . . I don't remember when I became one---I'm thinkin' that I've always been one. It's hard being a Doofus, though.

I guess there's a place for everyone---even for Doofussess.

You will count your lucky stars that you're not one, when you see how hard it is.

For example: While I was on the phone with a "friend" the other day, I told her how I hoped that my son and her daughter could go out on a date. She said something. I don't know what she said---but---I didn't want her to know that I didn't know what she said---so I replied, "Well, yeah."

I haven't never heard from her since. I don't know what I said, "Well, yeah," to---but it must've been bad.

Lesson learned: Next time say, "Well, no."