Archive for March, 2011

Danger! Danger!

March 31, 2011

On the side of my box of Omeprazole:

Drug Warning: Do not take if allergic to Omeprazole.


Someday I’ll learn my lesson

March 28, 2011

Cameraless again tonight, as we were behind a car whose bumper read:


Déjà vu

March 24, 2011

In Geneva last year:

In the States this week:

Weight Watchers for cats?

March 23, 2011

There’s a new cat treat out on the market, and the main selling point in its commercial is that it’s only 2 calories.

Since when do people count their cat’s calories?  It’s not that hard to feed your cat, y’all — follow the directions on the bag of cat food.  If you can’t read, then ask your vet.  No calorie-counting required.

I almost forgot to tell y’all

March 21, 2011

the superglue story.

My grandma’s cat has sharp claws.  My grandma has very delicate skin.  This is not a good combination.

My mom thought it would be a good idea to put some plastic nail caps on the cat’s claws, so she bought a sparkly pink set from the local pet shop.  Then she enlisted my help in applying them to the cat’s claws.  Unthinkingly, I agreed to help her.

Nail caps are applied with super glue.  Super glue + me = bad combination.  Mom handed me the super glue bottle and it immediately stuck to my hand.  My right hand, to be specific.  And I am right-handed.

In a splendid example of poor timing, I was then struck by the desperate urge to use the restroom.  So I did.  But then I was confronted with the problem of how to get clean without supergluing my hand to my private anatomy.  Mom to the rescue with a bowl of nail polish remover.

After that I recused myself from the nail application procedure.  So Mom proceeded by herself, aided by the mind-altering properties of superglue fumes.  With the cat high as a kite, Mom was able to pop the nail caps on in no time at all.

And I will not be handling superglue any time in the near future.

Madelina Padelina

March 18, 2011

I swear I am not crazy.  Neither is my mom.  And yet we seem to be the only two people on the planet who know the Madelina Padelina song.  I had wanted to play it for y’all to prove a point, but alas — it does not exist on the Internet.

Why am I concerned with this, anyway?  Well, the other day Mom came in my room and began running her wet hands through my hair for no apparent reason.

“Here,” she said.  “This will make your hair look more alive.”

Hence the Madelina Padelina song, which begins:

Madelina Padelina Rubensteiner Einerdeiner

Hoca Poca Loca was her na-a-ame.

She had two hairs on her head

One was alive and the other was dead.

Oh Madelina Padelina Rubensteiner Einerdeiner

Hoca Poca Loca was her name.

More favorite commercials

March 17, 2011

Esther on the Couch

March 16, 2011

Last night Mom and I went to go see a ladies-only, one-woman musical retelling of the megillah of Esther for Purim.  I have not laughed so hard in a long time.  The writer/actress, a local Jewish psychiatrist, spoofed just about everybody under the sun — Queen Vashti and King Achashverosh are caught in a Bad Romance, King Achashverosh is All Shook Up when he sees all the beautiful women of his kingdom, Esther is moved when he picks her to be queen Tonight, Mordechai and Haman face off to When You’re a Jew, Achashverosh is admonished to Read It [the royal records] and honor Mordechai for his loyal service, and once the Jews are saved, Esther rocks out to I Will Survive.  Plus King Achashverosh has a Dr. Phil moment about his New York yiddische mama and the audience gets an Oprah moment with a gift of Purim masks.

And once the drama’s all over, it’s Joy to the World

I think this sums it all up

March 12, 2011

We were out looking at model houses today,  and I noticed this quote by Sartre on the pillows on the couch:

Pour que l’événement le plus banal devienne une aventure, il faut et il suffit qu’on se mette à le raconter.

(The man showing us the house asked, “You can read that?”  Yes, I can read that.)

My life isn’t really as much of an adventure right now as people think — I just try to find a story to tell every day. I need to start carrying my camera around with me again — I’ve missed some great pictures lately, including one that would be perfect for Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends”.

When I was in 8th grade, we all had to participate in an exercise where we wrote something nice about each one of our classmates.  Pretty much all of my class said that they liked the way I told stories.  I guess the storytelling bug has stuck with me. 🙂


March 10, 2011

I found a new bag of medication in our office last week.  It says, “Client: [my mom’s name].  Apply to skin at the nape of the neck.  Use once a month, year-round.”

I got really worried there for a moment, wondering what on Earth was wrong with my mom so that she would need to take such a medication.  And then it dawned on me — it was the flea and tick medicine she had picked up at the vet for my grandmother’s cat.