About a year ago my Mother-In-Law made a delicious meatloaf.
I mean, this thing was “jab someone in the eye for the last piece” good.
When I went back into the kitchen, I saw the empty meatloaf pan on top of the stove.
Which was odd, since I had only eaten one piece and I didn’t think anyone else had any.
Then I realized that the empty meatloaf pan had distinct marks on it.
"Did you leave the meatloaf unattended on top of the stove?" I asked my MIL.
"Yeah, but I pushed it to the back," she replied.
"Ah… Well, Noah was able to reach it. And he ate it. All."
Now, let me be clear: no one thinks that Noah did a good thing. No one admires him for it. In fact, we’d be angry about it if we thought it would do any good, but he’s mostly just a brainless lump who acts on primal instincts and has no thoughts about civility.
My MIL blamed herself for being stupid, but everyone else just thought it was a simple mistake and went on with their lives. No one thought she was a bad person, it was just an accident.
Why do I mention this now?
As you may know, there’s an awards show this weekend.
(I only know because I heard people talking about it on Twitter. I had to Google it to figure out which one it is.)
((Golden Globes, FYI.))
I would like to take this opportunity to remind all of the ladies who will be in attendance to put on underpants.
Because no matter how distasteful you may consider the paparazzi to be, the facts are these: 1) they are going to be there, 2) they are going to take pictures of everything, 3) they will not have any ‘sense of common decency’ about any potentially embarrassing pictures they may take of you.
They are, essentially, like a pack of dogs waiting for someone to accidentally drop something they can eat.
And no matter how much we may all agree that they are basically parasites who live off of the lives of others, it’s not going to change their nature. Just like Noah is never going to leave a meatloaf on the stove, and just like the scorpion isn’t going to let the frog cross to the other side of the river.
So, really, just put on underpants.
I know, the lines might ruin the way that your dress covers the ass that you want to look fabulous and don’t want anyone to look at, but I think it’s still a good idea. I mean, I won’t think ill of you if you decide not to wear them, but I’d rather you not end up accidentally making someone’s payday. Or spank-bank.
A Word To The Guys (or ladies not wearing short skirts or dresses) who may go with these ladies.
If you’re riding in a car with a lady wearing a short dress or skirt, sit on the right-hand (“passenger”) side of the car. That way you can get out first, and then hold the door open while you stand in the line-of-sight between any photographers and any ladies in dresses/skirts who are getting out of the car. If you are on the wrong side when you get there, tell them to wait until you come around to the other side.
Just a friendly word of advice.
ps - anyone who claims I’m saying that women are basically chopped hamburger will get smacked in the babymaker with a dictionary opened to the entry for ‘parable’.
mrsbadcrumble replied to your photo: Have I mentioned that he thinks he’s a little dog?…
NOAH I LOVE YOU
I arrived home a little after 1 a.m. and Noah came out to greet me because of course he did.
I opened the car door to get out, and he immediately lunged into my lap. He promptly got himself stuck between the steering wheel and my legs, and couldn’t move forward or backwards.
To say that he is as dumb as a sack of hammers might underestimate the hammers.
Thoughts And Actions
Remember that I brought home Max & Erma’s chocolate chip cookies yesterday.
Consider myself the smartest person in the world.
Think to myself: “Forgotten Cookies is the best surprise ever. And a good band name too.”
Walk to the kitchen anticipating a glass of milk and a cookie because the one I had yesterday really needed milk so I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I will enjoy this one.
Compliment myself on my self-control for not eating them all last night.
Arrive at the kitchen and verify there is still milk in the fridge.
Start looking for the box.
Look in the oven.
Look in the microwave.
Look in the cabinets.
Look in the breadbasket.
Check the oven again.
Check the microwave again… because those are the two places we put things when we want to make sure that Noah won’t get them off the counter…
Feel impending sense of dread.
Turn around very, very slowly…
See empty, torn pieces of the “Cookies To-Go” box just outside the doggie door.
Place ad for “Free Golden Retriever” on Craigslist.
Vow to never again go to sleep without eating all the cookies in the house because seriously I could die in my sleep or THE FUCKING DOG COULD EAT THEM.