Archive for the Seriously? Category

What’s behind YOUR couch?

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , , , on December 8, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 426

Now you would think I’m gonna be talking about loose coins, popsicle sticks and pet hair, right?

I wish. That crap I could at least clean out and throw away.

I have a gym behind my couch which gets pulled out nearly every morning as someone does a bunch of exercising and stretching at crack-o-dawn.

I might add that we’ve dedicated a separate room in the house for these follies—it even features a monstrous Bow-Flex—but for some reason the mini-gym stays behind the couch.

It actually stays in the middle of the floor most days unless I have time to shove it back behind the couch. When I don’t and a neighbor stops by, it’s always a little awkward.

“What IS all that?”

I get it because, frankly, a few parts of the mini-gym look like implements of torture.

I mean, there’s a rope. Which I tie around Sister’s neck to take her out when I can’t find the leash.

Then, there’s a stick-like apparatus with blue handles that looks like a bludgeoning tool.

I can’t forget the muscle-roller-outer (I don’t know the real name) that looks like a battering ram.

And the push-up paddles look like the defibrillator paddles used to restart a heart.

You might notice the baseballs, too. Technically, those are for working out a knot in your muscle. You actually position yourself on the floor and roll around on the ball. They could also conceivably be thrown in a heated argument.

Last but not least is the balance board. It’s homemade, a  heavy hexagonal-shaped piece of solid wood with sand-papery no-slip strips on it. It goes on a plastic cushion-like thing and you balance on it.

Tyler tried it once and fell and the non-slip treads made his side bleed. I don’t know what water boarding is exactly, but this board would be a good candidate.

Anyway, take a look at where all this crap fits. In my living room.

Kinda makes me feel like hurling a baseball.

What’s behind YOUR couch?


Chivalry is not dead, sorta

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , , , , on October 19, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 422

I finally made it into the 21st century by getting an iPhone for my 40th birthday. Man, is it cool.

A good friend of mine told me about this game you can play called Words with Friends. It’s pretty much just like Scrabble, which I’d never really played.

So I signed up to play a bunch of games–12 to be exact. Why so many? I don’t want to be rude, so anytime I got an invitation to play, I accepted.

To be blunt, I suck. I’m getting better, but right now I still suck. A lot of people put up words that are worth 50 to 60 points. My words are usually worth about 12.

I was asking Jerry for words one night and he said, “Lemme see that thing.”

Once he entered the word, the scoreboard came up on screen. “Whoa! You need some help here.”

So he came up with a few more words. Scrabble is a mix of math and spelling so we made a pretty good team. I thought it was kind of sweet of him to want to help me increase my score. Save my reputation. Help me out. Which he did.

But then he saw the scores of all my games. “Damn, you are getting your ass kicked by everyone!”

“I know. Sometimes you have to lose to learn.”

“No you don’t! Who told you that? You are losing every single game.”

“I know! Quit saying that!”

“It’s terrible! Maybe you should just quit!”

I hate it when good chivalry goes bad.

Old Yeller

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , , , on August 16, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 412

Saturday was the start of the fall soccer season.

I’m always reminded at this time of year what a good sense of humor God has. Because as much as I don’t understand ANY sport (First down? no idea. Off sides? Still don’t get it) I have a son who loves sports and so every Saturday morning, my ample rear is plastered on a bleacher or in a dilapidated lawn chair.

But. I will say this: I do cheer. Now, I often say “Make a goal!” when “Score a basket!” is what is wanted, but whatever. Tomato, tomahto.

So, I was all set up Saturday when a teammate’s family asked if we could make room for them on the sidelines. Sure thing. They had the grandmother in tow and an extra kid and we all scooched over to make room. The more the merrier. I was half in a hole to accommodate them, but that’s fine. Or it was then.

Then the game started. “Go Tyler!” “Go Flyers!” I yelled.

“Oh God,” the grandmother said. I didn’t pay any attention to her because I figured she wasn’t talking to me.

Some of the players were getting distracted; they’re just eight after all. “Keep your head in the game, guys,” I yelled.

“Not again!” the grandmother moaned.

The mother leaned forward around her husband AND her mother and said to me, “Hey! Are you a yella?”

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“A yella? Are you a yella? Because my motha always sits next to a yella and it gives her a headache.”

Well I…”

“She’s a yella, Ma! She’s gonna do it the whole game. It’s in her nature. She can’t help it. Switch seats with Steve, Ma.”

It freakin’ pissed me off how she talked about me like I wasn’t even there. Damn.

So I smiled, which is what Southern women do when we’re pissed off, and I said loudly, “Well, you know I figure if I’m going to come I might as well show up if you know what I mean.”


I continued: “It’s kind of like if you go to a class you might as well sit up front and participate, right? Otherwise, why go?”


I was on a roll now. “If you think about it, it’ s a good metaphor for life, really. Always do your best. Give 100 percent.”

Still nothing. Cowards. By this time Steve was sitting next to me looking apologetic and sheepish.

Oh, grow a pair! Honestly, I can’t stand a wimpy man.

I simmered down, of course, and thought of moving, but that would’ve been rude. Why I cared about this, I don’t know.

It occurred to me later that my on-the-spot metaphor for life conflicts with my personal mottoSometimes good enough is good enough.”

God, I love that motto.

But when it comes to my kid, just showing up isn’t enough.

At least I got a new nickname out of it.

Get ready, grandma, and steer clear. I have a feeling I’m going to yell more than ever this season.

Stop it, stupid people!

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 10, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 400

Is it just me or do we seem to have a disproportionate amount of stupid people in America? I’m not talking about those featured in the “People of Walmart” photos, bless their hearts. I’m talking about Americans that are supposed to be smart, functioning, contributing members of society.

Like, for instance, Congressman Anthony Weiner. I really believed someone had hacked his Twitter account and sent that woman a picture of his, uh, underwear. The fact that he was a congressman should have been deterrent enough (although by now we know it’s not), but with a name like that. Really? Why tempt fate? He will forever be remembered, not for his politics, but as the Weiner who sent a picture of his, well, you know.

I’m just wondering at what point that seemed like a good idea. Was it while he was eating his Frosted Mini-Wheats? Bored to tears in a session of congress?

Where are these people’s mothers? Where is the voice, the moral compass, that should be echoing in that crucial space of “Should I or Shouldn’t I?” Absent that, no one seems to learn from anyone else’s mistakes. Why is that?  And no one is exempt from the stupidity—men, women, Republicans, Democrats. We are becoming a nation of stupid, stupid people.

Could I, for a moment please, just step in as surrogate mother and, as my mother would say, give a few lectures? Lindsay Lohan: Pay for your necklaces. Stop all that drinking! International Money Fund guy: Leave the maids alone. Larry Craig: Keep your feet to yourself in the men’s restroom. John Edwards: You don’t need a videographer! Politicians in general: Leave your interns alone! Just. Stop. The. Stupid. Please.

It’s stupid like driving a car around with an empty gas tank is stupid. You know what’s going to happen so you fill up the tank. These guys have to know what’s going to happen but they just keep on driving. And we keep electing them. Damn.

And while I’m ranting: Men, quit killing your wives. First Brad Cooper is on trial, now Jason Young. Good grief. Statistically, you guys are making it dangerous to live in Cary, NC.

Here’s the thing: You are not going to get away with it. You are not going to get the insurance money. Instead, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in an orange jumpsuit making license plates for 33 cents a day while someone else raises, your kids, Thank God.

You honestly have a better chance of going to Hollywood and starring with George Clooney in a major motion picture. That’s how slim your chances are of getting away with murder.

Here’s a concept. Sick of your wife? Divorce her. Please. And take your lumps like everybody else.

Whew. None of that probably decreased any stupidity in our great nation, but boy do I feel better.

Are YOU Mensa material?

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , on May 5, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 392

While researching a project, I came across an I.Q. test for Mensa. If you don’t know, American Mensa is an organization of folks who score in the top two percent of intelligence tests. In other words, they are really damn smart.

Following the test is an evaluation you can use to determine how smart you are.

For example, if you answer 17 to 20 questions, you just might be a “Menser.” Thirteen to 16 questions? You would fit in at a Mensa event. Seven to nine: you have the potential to qualify. Less than 7? Maybe you’re having a bad day.

Nowhere on there does it address what it means if you cannot even UNDERSTAND the questions, let alone attempt any of them.

I’m assuming it means I’m a total idiot. Then again, I’m not that bright.

So. Give a few of these a try. I have the answers, too, if anyone actually comes up with anything. I will honestly be extremely impressed by any attempts.

Here goes:

1. The day before the day after tomorrow will be Saturday. The day after the day before yesterday was Thursday. What day is today?

2. Which of the following words is the odd man out?


3. What is one-half of one-fifth of one-half of one-tenth of 5,000?

4. In a contest to guess the number of tennis balls in a jar, Sam guessed 33, Thomas guessed 29, Sally guessed 27 and Ryan guessed 37. Nobody was correct. One guessed three too many, one guessed seven too many, one guessed one too few, and one guessed three too few. How many tennis balls were there?

5. Find the six-digit number in which the first digit is one less than the second, the second digit is one less than the third, the third digit is one less than the fourth, which is one less than the fifth, and the fifth digit is one less than the last. The sum of the first, second and third digits equals the sixth. The sum of the all the digits is 21.

6. Which word, when unscrambled, does not match the others?


Not the best hiding place

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , on March 16, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 382

Have I mentioned that Tyler hides his candy? From me?

This includes candy from Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day etc.

It’s a good idea. I’ve finally admitted I’m a sugar addict. More on that in another blog.

I always give Tyler a head start. And it usually takes a few days before I find his candy and  abscond with the pieces I want.  Then Tyler realizes what’s missing and starts all over again.

Finding good hiding places has got to be teaching him some valuable life skill; I just don’t know what it is. “Don’t trust your mother?” “Transparency doesn’t pay?” “Don’t share?”

Anyway, he usually picks good places–behind the TV in the bonus room, in the back of his closet, in the seat of a dining room chair pushed far underneath the table.

I’ve been so proud.

But today. Oh, the disappointment.

Can you see? He has hidden his candy stash under my desk! On the shelf where I put my feet!

I nearly stepped on it before I ate it.

He obviously needs a tutorial. After all, bathing suit season is coming. I need his help.

How do you love me?

Posted in Seriously? with tags , , , , , on February 15, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN # 373

Yeah, so I go fishing for compliments on Valentine’s Day. Who doesn’t?

Only my hubby doesn’t fall for it anymore. So I had to try with Tyler.

Hey, he had it coming. He didn’t make me a card, but, instead, gave me five dollars as in, “Go buy yourself something nice.”

He didn’t say that, but I swear I see it coming. That, gold chains and a fake hairy chest.

Anyway, since he didn’t get me a card, I said, “Why don’t you just tell me why you love me?” I readied myself for some fabulous little-boy sweetness.

Instead: “Because you buyed me things.”

“Anyone can buy you things. What else?”

“Because you make me born.”

“Okay. What else?

“Mom! That’s two things! I am getting really tired.”

So he’s materialistic and has bad grammar.

I think we’re off to a great start.