Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Happy almost Mother’s Day!

On the way to work this morning, I was listening to the radio. In anticipation of Mother’s Day, one of those moronic wacky morning shows had listeners call in and share the biggest lie their mother ever told them.  Well that’s easy. When I was around 5,  my mother lied and told me that I chose my bedroom wallpaper. The ugly wallpaper with ugly pink, ugly green, ugly yellow and ugly white hexagons all over it. (Did I mention it was ugly?) For years she told me that horrible wallpaper was my first choice even though I distinctly remembered picking out white wallpaper with little pink flowers all over it.  Twenty years later, she finally admitted that I hadn’t picked the hideously ugly wallpaper. Liar, liar, pants on fire! 

I did not call the radio show to share my tale of deception because, let’s be honest, no one really cares about the story of a little girl and her wallpaper. No one except for my therapist. Wait, that’s not true. My therapist doesn’t care either.  But the radio show did make me wonder if one day my sons will be telling stories about the lies I told them.  (Yes, sometimes I lie to my kids. A shocking revelation, I know.)

Let’s see…  

Little Lie #1:

Me:  What would you like to do today? (Please don’t say go to the children’s museum. Please don’t say go to the children’s museum.)

Son: Let’s go to the children’s museum!

Me: The children’s museum? Oh, no! The children’s museum is closed today.

Son: Closed? Why?

Me:  It’s closed so they can clean it.

Son: Why don’t they just clean it at night?

Me:  They do, but, um, a bunch of kids made such a huge mess that they needed an entire day to clean up the messy museum. 

Son: Oh, OK.

Nah, my sons won’t be telling stories about this lie later in life. Too ordinary.

Clever Lie #2:

Son: Happy Mother’s Day!

Me: Thank you. You’re  going to be good today right?

Son: Yeah. Why?

Me: Didn’t you know? Mother’s Day is the one day a year that if kids are bad, mothers can return their children to the hospital.

Son: REALLY?

Me: Yes, it’s true!

Son: I don’t want to go back to the hospital. I’ll be good!

Yes, my children are gullible. Definitely one of my better lies. 

Boldfaced Lie #3

Son:  Who discovered heaven?

Me:  Heaven?  Who discovered heaven? Well…uh…heaven…let’s see…um….PONCE DE LEON!  Ponce de Leon discovered heaven.

Son: Oh, OK.

Anyone know when kids learn about Ponce de Leon? Because it’s going to be pretty awkward if my 8-year-old declares that Ponce de Leon discovered heaven.
Oh yeah, this is the lie that my sons will be sharing with their friends. And their therapists.

Ode To A Game Show

I was going to write a new blog post but I was on vacation.

Then I was busy washing my hair.

Then the dog ate my computer.

OK, the truth is I’m just lazy and haven’t posted in forever.

I’m still too lazy to write something,  so in the meantime, please enjoy this freeform poem written by my 8-year-old son.

Wheel of Fortune

On Wheel of Fortune you can get a big jackpot with just one spin.
Lots of money and of course puzzles.
More fun than Jeopardy.
Both created by the same person.
PS – I love Wheel of Fortune. I watch it almost every night.

Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Sue

“Mom sues preschool for not prepping 4-year-old for Ivy League”

This sounds like a headline you’d read in The Onion. But this story isn’t satire, it’s real. 

In a nutshell, a Manhattan mother is suing a preschool for jeopardizing her 4-year-old daughter’s chances of getting into an elite private elementary school and, in the future, the Ivy League. According to the lawsuit, the preschool promised to “prepare her daughter for the ERB, an exam required for admission into nearly all the elite private elementary schools.”  The mother was appalled that the preschool was teaching her 4-year-old daughter shapes and colors and allowing her to interact with younger children in “one big playroom”.  The child was pulled out of the preschool after only 3 weeks and now her mother is suing the preschool to get back her $19,000 tuition.   (You can read the full story here.)

This is one crazy story and many people have very strong opinions about it. Some people are disgusted that a mother is suing a preschool because she thinks now her daughter may not get into an Ivy League college.  But I’m not disgusted. Not at all. No, I’m giddy with excitement over all of the lawsuits I now plan to file. 

  • I’m going to sue my former piano teacher for failing to make me a child piano prodigy, thus, destroying my chances of getting into The Julliard School of Music and becoming a world famous pianist.
  • I’m going to sue every single politician for failing to deliver on every single one of their campaign promises.
  • I’m going to sue Nickelodeon and Spongebob Squarepants for falsely teaching my children that snails go, “meow”, thus causing my children to fail their “animal sounds” exam in preschool and jeopardizing their chances for an Ivy League education.
  • I’m going to sue the Miller Brewing Company for claiming that Miller Lite tastes great and is less filling when the truth is, it is quite filling and does not taste great.
  • I’m going to sue the Black Eyed Peas for saying tonight’s gonna be a good night. Tonight was not a good night.
  • I’m going to sue Walt Disney World, the place “where dreams come true” because when I went to Disney World, my lifelong dream of pantsing Mickey Mouse didn’t come true.  
  • I’m going to sue the nurse who gave me my MMR vaccine at age 5 because she said the shot wasn’t going to hurt. It did hurt. It hurt a lot.

Long live the litigious USA!

The Ides Of March

Today is March 15 – the Ides of March. Julius Caesar was warned to “beware the Ides of March”. Clearly Caesar didn’t heed this warning…he was killed on the Ides of March.

How do I know so much about the Ides of March? Well, I read William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar in high school.

Hmm, I wonder if kids today still read Julius Caesar in high school. Surely today’s youth must know about Julius Caesar and the Ides of March, right?

I decided to go hang out at the local high school to find out.

Me: Excuse me? Can I talk to you?

Random high school girl (looking down at her phone): Huh? You want to Facebook me?

Me: No. I’d like to talk to you.

Random high school girl: Text me?

Me: No. Talk.

Random high school girl (looks up from her phone): Talk? I don’t understand.

Me: I want to talk to you. I’d like to have a conversation. You know, we’ll take turns speaking to each other. I’ll ask you a question and then you’ll give me an answer.

Random high school girl: Ohhhh, a conversation. Yeah, I had one of those once. OK, I’ll talk. 

Me: Good. I just wanted to tell you to beware the Ides of March.

Random high school girl: The i’s of March? There are no i’s in March. M-A-R-C-H. See, no i’s.

Me: No, not i’s of March. The Ides of March.

Random high school girl: Eyes of March?

Me: No. Ides of March. Beware the Ides of March.

Random high school girl: Beware of Thea DeMarch? Why? Is she a bully? Is she going to beat me up and steal my iPhone?

Me: No, no…

Random high school girl: I better update my Facebook status and warn my friends about her!

Me: Haven’t you heard of Julius Caesar?

Random high school girl: I’ve heard of Caesar salad.

Me: Of course you have. No, I’m talking about Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.

Random high school girl: William Shake Spears? Is that Britney Spears cousin? OMG, you know Britney’s cousin! Can he get me Britney’s autograph?

Me: No, he can’t.

Random high school girl: Darn!

Me: Hey, remember when Whitney Houston sang, “I believe the children are our future”?

Random high school girl: No.

Me: Of course you don’t. Whitney must have been totally strung out on crack when she sang that. I weep for the future.

Random high school girl: Oh. Do you need a tissue?

Me: No. Nice talking to you.

Random high school girl: Hey, maybe this talking thing will catch on.

Me: Yeah, maybe.

Random high school girl: OK, text ya later! Don’t forget to Friend me!

 

Beware the Ides of March.

And beware of Thea DeMarch…I hear she’s coming to steal your iPhone.

Charlie Sheen Visits Dr. Lori

Physician-patient confidentiality prevents me from identifying the patients I write about. But the patient I’m writing about today is no ordinary patient. Rules don’t apply to him. He’s a bitchin’ rock star from Mars. He’s…

CHARLIE SHEEN!

Even though Charlie’s been super busy doing drugs television interviews, radio interviews and hanging out with his goddesses at his Sober Valley Lodge, he still found time to visit me at my office.

Dr. Lori (knocks, enters exam room): Good morning Charlie.

Charlie Sheen: Morning Doc!

Dr. Lori: Charlie, why are you sitting on the exam table completely naked?

CS: I’m ready for my hernia exam.  

Dr. Lori: Ah yes, the hernia heard around the world. But Charlie, you have a hiatal hernia

CS: Yes, I know. What’s the problem?

Dr. Lori: Your balls are the problem. PUT YOUR PANTS ON!  

CS: (puts his pants on): Whatever you say, Doc.

Dr. Lori: So, how are you doing Charlie?

CS: Slap my ass and call me Tony the Tiger because I’m GRRRRREAT! I have tiger’s blood and I’m not talking about Tiger Woods. I am tiger, hear me roar! RRROOOAAARRR!!

Dr. Lori: Would you like me to refer you to a veterinarian?

CS: No, no. I’m an F-18. A G6. A 34DD. A B1, I18, N32, G54, O75. B-I-N-G-O. And Bingo was his name- O!

Dr. Lori: What the hell was that? Be honest with me, what drugs are you on right now?

CS: I’m on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. 

Dr. Lori: Sorry Charlie, that drug has been recalled by the FDA because it leads to projectile vomiting and anal leakage.

CS: Huh. So that explains the anal leakage.

Dr. Lori: Hey, what happened to the bottle of Purell I had on my desk? (sniffs Charlie’s breath) Good lord, did you drink the Purell?

CS: Well, duh! Who wouldn’t drink the stuff? It says it cures 99.99% of germs.

Dr. Lori: Soooo, it had absolutely nothing to do with the 62% alcohol content?

CS: Alcohol and drugs are no longer a problem. I have cured myself of my addictions. I cured myself with my mind.

Dr. Lori: Your mind? No AA. No rehab. You cured yourself with your mind. That’s hard to believe.

CS: Yes, an unevolved mind cannot process it. I can cure addictions, illness and injuries with my mind. But we must keep it a secret from the government. If they find out, they’ll capture me and run all kinds of scientific studies on me. Like they did to E.T.

Dr. Lori: OK. My lips are sealed.

CS: You see, if I had a hammer, I could use it to repeatedly smash my hand and then I would cure the broken flesh and bones with my mind.  (gets up and starts dancing) If I had a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning. I’d hammer in the evening. All over this land…

Dr. Lori: I have a hammer. I can’t wait to see this. (hands hammer to Charlie)

CS:  (takes hammer) Je vous remercie. Je suis une douche bag géant. Holy crap, I can speak French! Who knew? OK, 1-2-3 (smashes hand with hammer) YEOWWWW!!!! PAIN! PAIN! MOTHERFUCKING PAIN!

Dr. Lori: Pain? Can’t you cure the pain with your mind?

CS: Sometimes, ow, it takes, ow, a little longer, ow, for my mind, ow, to completely, ow, cure, ow, the, ow, pain, ow.

Dr. Lori: Shall I send you to x-ray now?

CS: No, no. I’ll be fine because I’m special and I will never be like one of you. I’m tired of pretending I’m not special. I’m special. Barney told me so.

Dr. Lori: Barney?

CS: Yeah, Barney the big purple dinosaur. That dino is deep, man.  Hey, maybe I could get Barney to come live with me and the goddesses at Sober Valley Lodge. That would be bitchin’ awesome!

Dr. Lori: Charlie, I’m going give you a prescription for a life-preserver.

CS: Why do I need a life-preserver?

Dr. Lori: BECAUSE YOU’VE GONE OFF THE DEEP END! You’ve lost it. You’re loco. Cuckoo. Whackadoodle.

CS: I’m not whackadoodle.  I’m WHACKADOODLE-DANDY!

Dr. Lori: Seriously Charlie, you need help. You have some serious psychiatric and addiction issues. You may be bipolar.

CS: I’m not bipolar. I’m bi-winning!

Dr. Lori: That makes absolutely no sense. You need help. I’m going to refer you to addiction specialist, Dr. Drew Pinsky.

CS: Dr. Drew? DR. DREW? I like to call him, Dr. Poo. It’s funny because Drew and poo rhyme.

Dr. Lori: I’m sorry, my normal brain can’t process that. If you refuse to see Dr. Drew, you leave me no choice. (picks up phone) Nurse, please send him in.

(Door opens. Tom Cruise walks in)

CS: Tom Cruise? What are you doing here?

Tom Cruise: Hi Charlie. I’m here to help you. Several years ago, people thought I was crazy. But I’m not gay

CS: You mean, you’re not crazy.

TC:  That’s what I said. I’m not crazy. And definitely not gay. It was Scientology that helped me through those troubled times and it can help you too. I’d like to sing you a song I wrote just for you:

(to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat)

I’m drunk. I’m addicted to drugs. I’m nuts. 

I’ve lost it. Please help me.  

Don’t take medications (they’re bad).

Try Scientology!

CS: No thanks, Tom. Scientology isn’t for me. You see, I’m special.

TC: Yes Charlie, you are special. I’m special. You’re special. All Scientologists are special. (puts arm around Charlie and leads him out of the exam room). Come with me and join our cult…I mean church.

CS: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I’ll go to rehab, a inpatient psych unit…anything! NOT SCIENTOLOGY!!!!

TC: Stop resisting Charlie. You are one of us now.

CS: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Dr. Lori: Good luck Charlie!

I’d Like To Thank The Academy…

I’m a very unlucky person.

Raffles, contests, awards, the lottery, the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes, the Nobel Peace Prize, Skee-ball at Chuck E. Cheese…I never win anything. My luck is terrible.

But Lori, you’re probably saying, you’re lucky to have your family, your health and your job.

Yes, that’s true. So I guess I’m a winner at life.

And I’m a winner at the game of Life…but mostly because I cheat.

I’m also a winner of this fine prize:

Yes, I won a Peter Potty flushable toddler urinal (but that's a story for another day)

So, like I was saying, I never win anything anything good.  I was starting to feel as unlucky as the Chicago Cubs. But suddenly, my luck turned around. Imagine my surprise when I received this:    .

My friend Julie was given this Stylish Blogger Award and she was kind enough to pass it on to me. Julie is definitely a stylish blogger. Me? Stylish? Blogger? Uh, no. I suspect that when Julie gave me this award, her judgement was impaired from all the paint and glue fumes she’d been inhaling. You see, Julie is a crafting nut. Seriously, she’s a nut. Nut was her description, not mine. I never call my friends nuts. Well, that may not be true. As Justin Bieber says, never say never. (GOOD LORD, I’M QUOTING JUSTIN BIEBER!  HELP ME!) Julie’s also “an Oprah-Martha Stewart-Peter Walsh-Food Network-TLC-entertaining-organizing-lifestyle book reading-junkie”. If you gave Julie a glue gun, fabric, glitter and googly eyes and put her in a room with Martha Stewart, Julie would totally kick Martha’s crafty ass. I don’t know who Peter Walsh is, but I’m sure Julie could kick his ass too.  Julie’s blog is a showcase for her creativity and you should check it out. 

Thanks to Julie for my Stylish Blogger Award. I can’t believe I actually received a blogger award. I keep expecting  Kanye West to pop in, take my award and say, “Imma gonna let you finish writing your post, but Beyonce is the most stylish blogger of all time.”  That would be weird. I didn’t even know Beyonce was a blogger. But since that hasn’t happened yet, I’ll hang on to my award and put it in my sidebar, where Kanye West can’t get his grubby hands on it.

Yes, I think my luck is changing. 

That Distinguished Alumni Award from my high school will be mine in no time!

Blizzards Should Be Made Of Ice Cream, Not Snow

Got snow?

I do.

You may have heard about the little blizzard that struck the Midwest last week. How could you not hear about it? Meteorologists couldn’t stop talking about it. They used their fancy schmancy weather maps and radar images to tell us that a blizzard was headed our way. But not just any blizzard. Oh no, we were in store for Snowpocalypse, Snowmageddon, SnOMG, Snowtorious B.I.G. Weather reporters had turned into Chicken Little: The sky is falling! The sky is falling! 

Meteorologists in Chicago had predicted snowstorms in the past and had been completely wrong with their predictions. So, I wasn’t convinced that we were actually going to get  20 inches of snow. Especially when the schools declared a snow day before the first few inches of snow even hit the ground. I figured that was a sure sign that the blizzard forecast would be way off.

Before the blizzard

 

After the blizzard

 

Huh. The meteorologists were right this time. The sky was falling. Well, the snow was falling. And it kept falling and falling and falling.

Snow as high as the backyard fence

 

What do you do on a snow day? Build a 5 ft rocket!

Blizzard 2011 in a nutshell:

20 inches of snow
50+ mph wind gusts
2 snow days
And no Dairy Queen blizzards because Dairy Queen was closed due to the blizzard

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.