Tag Archives: humor

Monday in the HTMLab

You Might Be a Webmaster If…

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For a little lightness and humor in today’s Webdesign post, I thought I’d include a Jeff Foxworthy-style list of ways you know you’re a webmaster. See if these aren’t as true for you as they are for me!

You Might Be a Webmaster If…

  • …you instantly know what font a business’s sign uses.
  • …you find yourself admiring the gradient effect of a sunset.
  • …you can type the following code in your sleep: <html><head><title></title><link rel=”stylesheet” type=”text/css” href=”style.css”></head><body></body></html>
  • …you routinely have nightmares about a PHP script that just won’t run right.
  • …you find yourself bracketing your sarcastic comments on the Internet with <sarcasm> and </sarcasm>.
  • …you make the analogy that kudzu is like a Javascript without a </script> ending tag.
  • …you have been known to shout at sluggish uploaders, FTP programs, code editors, and any other program which dares to get in the way of your creation.
  • …you see a bottle of AJAX brand dish soap at the grocery store, and wonder idly what part of the aisle it’s updating.
  • …you have been known to dance around your room upon getting a page to display properly.
  • …you use the Copy and Paste keyboard shortcuts on your computer more than the Spacebar itself.
  • …you often curse the existence of old Internet Explorers (especially version 6).
  • …you have officially broken up with GIFs (especially the animated kind).
  • …you cringe inwardly when someone asks you “Hey can you look at my website and fix it?! I think it’s pretty cool cause I have a lot of colors and tables and I’ve got links all over the place…?!”
  • …you saw this comic at The Oatmeal, and wept for joy that someone else finally understood your last freelance job.

Know any more funny “You Might Be a Webmaster If…” moments? Leave a comment and share your ideas!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

“Derp:” It’s Not Just a Facial Expression Anymore!

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You might have seen this strange word on the Internet, perhaps not known what it was…yet it always occurs in the funniest or strangest circumstances. What is a “derp?”

“Official” Internet Definitions

According to UrbanDictionary.com, a derp can be many things, such as a silly facial expression, incomprehensible speech, or an idiotic moment. I, however, find definitions #3 and #5 to be most applicable to my experience of “derp”:

  • #3: A literary or spoken phrase that combines elements of “WTF” and “cool story bro”. Laced with condescension “derp” is a common form of web-based libel that is almost didactic; however not quite as it is generally a sardonic gesticulation rather than moralistic chastisement. The spoken sense of the world itself conveys an intrinsic feeling of disappointment with a subtle hint of disgust and an overtone of rebuke.
  • #5: A word uttered when one screws up. origin: Matt Stone and Trey Parker in BASEketball. Used as an interjection.

Additionally, according to KnowYourMeme, derps arose from pure stupidity and remains that way today (see the exhibit of “derp” faces, with eyes pointed in different directions and a strange smile). KnowYourMeme also gives important background information as to the origins of the “derp.” Many more of these stupidity examples and distorted speech/facial expressions can be found on Derp.com.

However, I have come up with my own definition of the derp, from my own life:

DERP: n. a silly, almost instinctive mistake; a brain fart; a moment of abject ignorance.

DERP: v. making a silly, almost instinctive mistake; having a brain fart; acting ignorant.

Derivatives: derpy, derping

Pictorial Examples of This Definition

All images from Derp.com

I am quite capable of acting like this–saying stuff that doesn’t make sense, making crazy facial expressions, etc.–and have proven that wondrous ability on several occasions (much to my dismay). Sometimes, I have no idea why I derp, and that is one of the inherent qualities of the derp: it happens, and it happens to everyone at random times!

Derps I Have Done and Seen

  • Self-Derp: I carefully saved 10 picture sources (web addresses) for a future blog post. Later that night, I apparently went on a file-deleting spree and got rid of the entire file.
  • Self-Derp: I knew that I needed to stop for gas, but I drove 2 miles past the gas station I meant to go to anyway.
  • Self-Derp: Upon stepping up to the pulpit microphone to introduce another person at church, I stumbled over pronouncing their name, the title of the song they were doing, and the word “the”, all in one sentence.
  • Driver-Derp: In an unfamiliar city, I got into a traffic lane that I thought would continue on, only to look ahead and see that it ended in 500 feet. Fastest lane-change-back I’ve ever done!
  • Driver-Derp: A person I was driving behind in Charlotte traffic switched lanes precisely four times, from far left to middle left, from middle left to far left, from far left to far right (not kidding), and then back to middle right. Not sure what that was about, as there were no other cars to pass on the road.
  • Pet-Derp: Maggie, my boyfriend’s family cat, ran into the kitchen, started doing a big back stretch, then abruptly faceplanted and skittered a couple of feet like she was after a bug or mouse. Afterwards, she did an “I completely meant to do that” paw-washing.
  • Pet-Derp: Reesie, my boyfriend’s family dachshund, tried at least 50 times to get up on the armchair, jumping and jumping. When she finally succeeded, her first action was to slide back off, then try to jump back on again, for no apparent reason.

Derps in Entertainment: Why Are They So Funny?

From misspoken words to wardrobe malfunctions and other bloopers, derps appear on TV funny reels more often than anywhere else. Heck, there are even whole shows dedicated to the derp (America’s Funniest Home Videos, anyone?).

And, as I’ve referred to before, nowadays there are zillions of websites about derpy moments, either photographed or retold in words. Submitters to The Cheezburger Network and Spartz make tons of contributions to the derp culture every day, from funny cat captions to iPhone autocorrects and everything in between. And we eat it up, because it reflects our lives and our own derpiness. (If that isn’t a word, I’m making it one now–that’s not a derp in itself. LOL)

Derps are funny, random moments in life that are occasionally captured in a picture or memorialized in a video (and usually hastily put up on the Internet, LOL). They are reminders that we’re human and we make randomly funny/strange mistakes. They are also reminders that none of us is safe from derping; in fact, the most enjoyment comes from seeing that the richest, kindest, most put-together or most famous among us can still derp, too!

Have a Funny Derp?

Have a derp story to match the ones I’ve already told in this article? Got a funny derp picture to share? Tell me in the comments!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

If You Can’t Park It, Don’t Buy It!

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More and more, I’ve seen people driving cars, SUVs and trucks like the following:


Source
Source

(Okay, okay, maybe that second pic is a little exaggerated. But to me, a driver of a very small car, these bigger vehicles kinda do look like monster trucks on the road. 😛 )

Most of the time, I coexist with these bigger cars on the road pretty well; in fact, I admire the people who seem to be able to wiggle through traffic in these tanklike creations. But what gets me about big cars and trucks is that the people who drive them…don’t seem to be able to park them very well.

Exhibits A through D:


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Source

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Source

Though I didn’t take any of these pictures, I’ve seen examples of these kinds of parking everywhere I go. It’s almost as if the people who park larger cars/trucks in this way want others to notice them so badly that they have to take up all this room in the parking lot (or in fire lanes…or wherever they decide to stop their vehicle…LOL). Not only is this annoying for others who might have been able to park there otherwise, but it also comes off as selfish and insensitive.

Solution: Parking Test/Parking Classes

But wait! This is not just the regular “whine about bad parking” blog post. I actually have a solution!

My idea for solving the parking issue: before you leave the dealership with a new car, you should be given a parking test as part of the test drive, just like your driver’s license test. Dealerships have tons of parking spaces, after all, and you’re going to be test-driving the car anyway to make sure you can handle it on the road. Why not just make sure you’re buying something you can park effectively? Driving a new car is always weird because you’re not used to the size, and that definitely goes for parking, too…it would be worth a shot!

And, if your chosen car proves to be harder to drive than you thought, perhaps “parking classes” could be offered by private instructors or even the DMV. Driver’s ed fades fast in the memory, after all–who remembers how to parallel park, right? (That’s why a lot of cars now come with “Park Assist” technology and stuff like that…LOL)

…Okay, okay, the above advice is a little tongue-in-cheek, I admit…but think about it. Couldn’t we all benefit from a parking class sometimes, especially in those lots where the spaces are about THIS MUCH too small to just whoop in there willy-nilly? I know I could, even with an itty-bitty car like mine. Maybe if we all brushed up on our parking the way we brush up on our driving for license tests, we wouldn’t have all these parking fails that so frustrate us.

…But then again, that just might put the fail-picture websites out of business entirely. xD

Tuesday on the Soapbox

My Life as Tetris (A Poem)

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I think we’ve all been here at one point or another…LOL

So many Z-bars stacked up on one side
and all I need
is one straight bar

Piles and piles of L-bars and T-bars
carefully arranged on the other side
and all I need
is one measly straight bar

But alas, the lovely simplicity
of a quick reward
eludes me

Maybe if I keep stacking these pieces
with no gaps,
I’ll get a bigger payoff
when I do get a straight bar

But for now I just have to stack them further
and pray they don’t tumble in on my head
before I get that last blasted straight bar

Tuesday on the Soapbox

You’re Talking to the Champion of Getting Lost

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Yeah, I’m a bit infamous for losing my way, especially when trying to find my way to a place for the first time without knowing what any of the landmarks look like. Street names and numbers are excellent pieces of information on paper, but if I can’t connect those numbers and names to what a physical place looks like, I might just drive up and down the street a few times trying to find the next turnoff.

Before Google Street View existed, there were several epic-fail jaunts I found myself on…let me tell you of them.

Whoops, I Was Supposed to Go West

One Saturday evening a couple of years ago, my boyfriend and I were leaving from the comics and collectibles shop about 40 miles from home, in Gastonia, NC. We went and got something to eat in the downtown area, and from there, I reckoned that we should turn left out of the parking lot onto Franklin Boulevard to get back home.

…But about 45 minutes after turning left, we were driving on into the darkness, and none of the street signs looked familiar. I’d come this way many times, but never this late at night. In desperation, I finally called Dad (our resident navigator); the nearest street sign told me that I was on Highway 74 heading east from Gastonia.

“East?!” Dad spluttered over the phone when I told him this. “Good Lord, honey, you’re halfway to Belmont by now!” Belmont, as you might have gathered by now, is in the total opposite direction of home. We had spent 45 minutes going the wrong dang way, and I, in my bullheaded sense that I knew where I was going, had kept us going past all the unfamiliar scenery as darkness fell.

We easily got turned around and started going west, quickly reaching the outskirts of Gastonia again, and soon we were back in familiar territory. (My boyfriend got to do a well-deserved “I told you so” after this–he had been the one to sound the first warning that something wasn’t right about our route home. I know to listen to him now, as well as to listen to my own doubts and intuitions!)

Can You Tell Me How to Get–How to Get to This Address?

While I was still in college in Greensboro, NC, I had made Internet contact with a really nice guy who went to Furman University down in South Carolina, and we wanted to start dating. Since my home is a hop, skip, and jump from the SC state line, it seemed a simple thing to schedule our first date for a time when I would be home from college for the weekend.

So, on a Friday afternoon, after I had already made the 2 1/2-hour drive back from college to home, I was heading down I-85 South to Greenville, SC, confident that I had correct directions and knew all the twists and turns I needed to take to get to the Furman campus. I took all the exits off the main highways that I needed to, got into the correct lanes, and all of that…except that the college campus was nowhere to be found.

A frantic 1 1/2-hour search for Furman University ensued, as I drove tensely through the thickest portions of inner Greenville, tears working their way out of my eyes as minutes passed with no familiar street names. Somewhere–I wasn’t sure where–I had made a terrible mistake, even though I knew I had taken all the roads I was supposed to according to the directions I’d gotten from Mapquest. Instead of ending up at the college campus, I was lost in suburbia.

I pulled a couple of epic U-turns in this search, pulling onto a deserted four-lane residential road long enough to whoop around in the middle of the street, and even turning around in a business parking lot without even pausing to make it a 3-point turn. (I love my little car’s turning radius. <3) At this point, I had been lost for over an hour, and I was increasingly frightened--even Daddy couldn't tell me where I was, and I was a single girl alone in a strange city. Not to mention that my cell phone signal kept going in and out, making me miss worried calls from my would-be date, who was getting quite concerned by this time. At some point, I finally pulled over into a parking lot in front of a rather dilapidated strip mall, and I went into a barber shop, which happened to be the only business still open at this time of night. After a moment's hesitation, I walked in, realizing how vulnerable I was as I did so--I was a lone female in what didn't look like the best part of town, with darkness falling. Fear bit at me as I opened the door...would I find any help from the five older gentlemen seated inside? But it seemed God had directed me to just the right barbershop. The fatherly owner of the shop, after hearing my tearful explanation of the problem (along the lines of "Can somebody tell me where Furman University is?!"), was able to tell me that the road I was looking for had actually changed names halfway through Greenville, and it was now known as Poinsett Highway out this far. And, as he put it, "Darlin', you ain't too far off from Furman now--you only lack 'bout a mile!" The others agreed, and sought to put my mind at ease. I probably looked a mess, with mascara running down my face, my nose all red from crying, and my eyes all puffed out, but they were sympathetic, and I was grateful for it. They pointed me to continue down the road I had been on, and I saw as I left the building that indeed the road name was Poinsett Highway. (Never been so relieved to see a street sign in my life. LOL) Within a few minutes after getting back in my car and onto the road, I did indeed find the exit that led into Furman University. (My date was standing outside the dorm, and looked so relieved to see me pull up that I think he about fell over. And our date went well, even if it did start two hours later than anticipated. xD)

Random Left Turn of Fail

My boyfriend and I had taken a trip up to Lake Lure, NC, to have a picnic out in the beautiful countryside surrounding the lake. It had been a favorite family destination as a child, and I wanted to share that with my awesome wub. Though the day was a little grayer and chillier than we expected, we still had good food and good conversation outside under the shade of one of the picnic shelters nearby.

When it came time to head back toward home, I threaded my way back through the route around the lake, and made a left at the intersection we had come into the area on, starting our trip back home. Or so I thought.

About 10 minutes later, we started seeing signs for Asheville, NC, as well as Bat Cave, NC (a real town, I promise!). “Uh-oh,” I said, passing the third of such signs. “I think we might be going the wrong way…”

“Why?” my boyfriend asked.

“‘Cause, um…we’re headed toward Asheville instead of away from it,” I said, sheepishly. “Wish I’d realized this about 5 minutes ago…”

By this time, though, my boyfriend was well aware that I could find a way out of the mess as easily as I found my way into it, and he shrugged. “Well, we’ll just find a place to turn around, and we’ll be good to go–you haven’t made any other turns, so we’ll probably just have to go back to that one intersection we remembered from before,” he said.

But finding a place to turn around on curving mountain roads proved much more difficult. I kept looking for gas stations or parking lots or ANYTHING that I could just whoop into and whoop back around…but the mountainside sloped sharply down away on our left side, and only houses were on the right. Asheville crept closer the farther we looked, and we were gathering quite a crowd of drivers behind us since we were going slowly along the curves.

Finally, we sighted, on the side of the road, a blue-graveled parking lot of sorts, barely even wide enough for one car to park perpendicular to the old building it lay in front of. I darted into it, sighing with relief–and then saw the sheer impossibility of using it to turn around. There was no room to back up and change direction; if I tried to do a 3-point turn, I’d take out a wall of the old building to our right. And yet, the road was narrow. If I tried to do a U-turn, I could end up hitting the guard rail. Not to mention that there was traffic flying from both directions.

After a minute or so of sitting there, the road cleared, and I told my boyfriend, “Hang on.” Then, from a dead stop, I turned the wheel as left as it would go, and slowly, sloooowly, crept onto the road, barely even using any gas. My little car eased gently across the near lane, then slid into the far lane (which became the “right lane” to us), never even so much as grazing the guard rail or dipping its tire off the road. (Have I said how much I love my little car’s turning radius? :D)

I have to give my wub some credit here–he didn’t even flinch as we got close to the other side of the road, though his hand stayed clenched around the armrest. LOL! At last, we were finally pointed in the right direction, and we got back to the fateful intersection, this time making the turn back toward home rather than more unknown territory. (Road signs are wonderful things. Just sayin’.)

Summary

I have been incredibly lucky not to have any major fails (or accidents/dangerous situations) than these–mainly, these stories remind me to pay attention to road signs, double/triple-check my route, and ask for directions if I have to. But they’re also funny stories to tell on myself, because book smarts do not always equal road smarts. 😛

Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Random Language I Speak

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Made-up words seem to run in our family. From my grandfather’s description of a car accident as “kaloom-bam-boom” to my parents’ word for the bits of sock fabric that always get left on the carpet (“sock doobies”), I guess I get the “creative words” gene honest. English is more fun when you can invent words, I believe. 🙂

Nevertheless, it always surprises people when one of my made-up words pops out of my mouth during a conversation. And I’m usually embarrassed by it at first–somehow, I fear I’ll get sent to the loony bin for some of the random stuff I come up with! But we always end up laughing about it.

Therefore, I will be brave and share some of the random language I speak, so that you, too, may LOL. 🙂

Made-Up Words and Family Slang

From My Dad’s Side

  • “kaloom-bam-boom” – a huge accident or fail of some sort (doesn’t have to be car-related).
  • “scooter-pootin'” – moving around continuously
  • “buke” (“bu” pronounced like “boo”) – to have an accidental bowel movement
  • “buuck” (not a typo) – to gag, especially over nasty-tasting food
  • “lamm” – to strike repeatedly and forcefully. “He’s just lammin’ that nail, ain’t he?”
  • “Big Ike” – overconfident person
  • “floof” – to suddenly fall flat on someone or on an object
  • “sherp” – to knock one’s feet out from under him (imitating the sound of such an action)
  • “sugarpoot”/”sugars**t” – an affectionate pet name for a child (why? I have no idea)
  • “asslin’ around” – wasting time, procrastinating (very descriptive 😛 )
  • “rhino”/”rhinoceros” – a big butt (like mine, lols)
  • “june around” – try to get a lot of things done as quick as possible
  • “tooters” – feet
  • “blomp” – to walk with slow and heavy steps
  • “braish broom” – yard-cleaning broom made of twigs, also used for the occasional whooping
  • “mazoozalum” – Grandma Daisy’s pronunciation of “mausoleum”
  • “klunk-plink-plink” – Nannie’s opinion of some pianists’ choppy playing styles
  • “pipe-stem legs” – very thin legs

From My Immediate Family

  • “moosh” – to kill or maim an insect; to massage.
  • “goopie” – a tiny, gross object, usually on the floor (bit of chewed food, unidentifiable sticky stuff, etc.)
  • “nidgy” – itty-bitty raveled thread (pill) on clothing
  • “fuzzbunny” – small ball of lint, usually ends up everywhere

My Own Made-Up Words from Childhood

  • “wootburgers” – strictly better than just a side of wootsauce.
  • “cubbyhouse” – a kid-size plastic or wood playhouse.
  • “giggling” – my kidlike pronunciation of “wiggling”, for whatever reason
  • “steamin’ alligator” – somebody who’s doing stuff just to tick me off
  • “beat-buttin'” – a particularly harsh (and usually deserved) whoopin’

Jim-ese

Since my great-uncle Jim was deaf and read lips, he often tried to speak the words he read others saying; he also made unintentionally hilarious commentary on how others spoke, as well.

  • “lotha” – translation of “nothing.” But “lotha” became synonymous with even less than nothing in our family. If you have nothing, you have zero, but if you have “lotha,” you don’t even have zero, if that makes any sense. LOL
  • “blellup” – believed to mean something like “hogwash”. Might have been Jim’s translation for “bulls**t”, but we’re not sure.
  • “jhi-jhi-jhi-jhi-jhu!” – only said to a baby, in “baby talk” voice. Like “goochy-goochy-goo.”
  • “rihbun” – pronunciation of my name.
  • “Jhalopy” – pronunciation of the city name “Shelby.”
  • “Gaffaley” – pronunciation of the city name “Gaffney.”
  • “Boola Sha-prings” – pronunciation of the town name “Boiling Springs.”
  • “mih-mih-mih!” – (said very quickly) brusque or angry talking.
  • “bipbipbipbipbip” – fast talking, a cigarette bobbing up and down in between someone’s lips as they talk, or never-ending talking.
  • “Bih…bih…bih!” – slow and deliberate talking (usually describing Grandma Daisy with a lip full of snuff)

Does Your Family Have Any Funny Made-Up Language?

We can’t be the only ones! LOL! If this post reminds you of some of the funny language in your own family, tell me about it in the comments.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Funny and AWESOME Dreams

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Since I did a post a few weeks ago about a few horrible nightmares I’ve had, I thought it only right to balance it with the following post about some of the funniest or most wonderful dreams I’ve had.

Indeed, my brain does bless me with some vivid happier or funnier dreams on occasion, which are (thankfully) just as memorable (and just as emotional) as some of my nightmares have been. For example:

Suddenly, I’m a Judo Master

One night very recently, I dreamed that I was out on the town one evening with my boyfriend’s mother and a good friend of mine from high school, who had her new baby son with her. As we were walking back to our cars from the restaurant we had just left, three guys jumped out from an alleyway and tried to mug us.

We were all ready to give them all the money we had, until one of the muggers swiped at my friend’s son, trying to tear him from her arms. Then all heck broke loose, and the three of us started kicking butt. My boyfriend’s mom was swinging this giant purple pocketbook around hitting the guys upside their heads, and my friend was protecting her son in one arm and punching each of them in the gut super-fast with the other arm. And I was throwing the muggers around, knocking ’em into each other and into walls and stuff (kinda judo-ish, but not really).

After a few minutes of us whooping up on them, the guys ran off without our money, cussing and limping. The three of us high-fived, and I woke up. XD

…And Apparently I’m a Dance Teacher, Too

A few years ago I had a dream about being abducted by aliens. It was the whole typical setup–weird noise outside my house, I go out to see what it is, and I get yanked up into this very very bright light. But when I arrived in the spaceship, the aliens (looking just like the ones in the movies, little skinny greenish-white beings with big black eyes) didn’t know what to do with me. They just stood around and tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand them.

I’m not sure how or why this happened, but I started teaching them how to do the Funky Chicken. (They were hopeless students, by the way, all flailing arms and legs and no rhythm. Worse than Elaine off Seinfeld. LOL) And after we had finally successfully danced for a while, they let me go, and I woke up.

…Yeah, I have NO idea. But it did give me a good laugh upon waking! 😛

Getting Interviewed for Books I Ain’t Written Yet

A few months back, I dreamed I was on a talk show that seemed like a combination of Tavis Smiley, Charlie Rose, and North Carolina Bookwatch–it was definitely a public-television talk show, but I didn’t recognize the well-dressed older man that was the host, nor did I recognize the name of the show (which I promptly forgot after I woke up).

The host asked me about my novel SERIES (mind, my first novel isn’t even complete yet as of right now), and he asked me to answer critics’ comments about some of the harder truths I had depicted in my novels. I spoke from a literary-critic point of view myself, and talked about trying to capture some of what had gone on in real-world historical events within my fictional world.

After I had finished answering the questions, the host said he was really pleased with how I was willing to dissect my own books, and that he appreciated writers who took time to research to make a good book. Afterward, I went to a random book-signing outside the studio, and there were TONS of fans there–some were even dressed up like my main character! :O I woke up right in the middle of the book-signing, and for a few minutes I was thinking I had to get to another interview. LOL

The Random Rock Concert In the Middle of a Choral Concert

I dreamed a few nights ago about singing with my local Choral Society group. In the middle of the applause from the formal, sacred music we had just finished singing, our fairly straightlaced choral director turned around where he stood at the podium, as if to acknowledge the audience. But instead, he suddenly broke into the chorus of “Come On Feel The Noize” by Quiet Riot, headbanging and fist-pumping like the best 80’s hair band singer.

We, the choir, stood there kinda shocked for a few seconds, and then we randomly joined in singing with him. The audience went absolutely NUTS, jumping out of their seats, screaming and cheering, and forming a mosh pit below the sedately decorated stage. To add to the mood, somebody in the sound and light booth turned down the stage lights and turned on these lights that threw sparkling multicolored dashes of light all around the walls. And once we got done singing it once, we started it again–all a cappella, no instruments or anything. Random party in my head! (and yes, I did wake up headbanging along to it. XD)

And Finally: My Son (Who Isn’t Even Thought Of Yet) Walks to Daddy

(This one made me cry happy tears upon waking.)

I dream I am standing at a living room window, watching a few cars drive into the driveway, and I feel a little tug at my shirt hem. “Mommy, they here yet? They here yet?” says a little voice.

I lean down to this little boy–he’s about two–and say, “Yeah, they just came in. Want to go open the door for them?”

“Naaah,” he says, hugging my leg. He is suddenly very, very shy. I go over and open the front door, and several close friends come in, all excited to meet this little boy, who I now realize (within the dream) is my son. Even my boyfriend’s older brother comes to see him, and they all gather in the living room, wanting my son to show them how he’s learned to walk. But he won’t walk in front of them–he’s shy and a little nervous.

This whole time, I’m seeing how much he resembles my boyfriend–same dark, glossy hair, same facial structure, and same skinny little arms and legs. He’s so fragile-looking that I’m suddenly afraid to let him walk on his own, for fear he’ll fall and hurt himself. And while I’m pondering all this, our friends are encouraging him to walk over to them, and he keeps shaking his head…until he looks toward the kitchen doorway. His eyes light up, and he says, definitively, “DADA!”

Then, with very deliberate, slow steps, my son walks straight towards the kitchen doorway, straight toward my boyfriend, and hugs his leg as if he’ll never let his daddy go. My boyfriend sweeps him up into his arms, a loving smile lighting his face, and the likeness between father and son is uncanny–tears fill my eyes. Then, my little boy looks back toward the roomful of people (including me) and grins this really big, cheesy grin; it’s the first smile he’s given that reminds me of myself, and the dream ends there.

The Role of Good Dreams

Each of these dreams left me pumped, in a good mood, and ready to face the day, much more so than my nightmares. My nightmares just propelled me out of bed; my awesome dreams left me feeling so much more positive about my life. I think that’s one reason we have dreams like these–keep us happy and wanting to wake up and live again. At least, that’s what these five dreams (as well as all the other great ones I’ve had over the years) have done for me.

Have You Ever Had Dreams Like These?

Just wondering if these dreams of mine remind you of any you’ve had. Leave me a comment and tell me! 🙂

Tuesday on the Soapbox

I Heart Typos

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Typos are just funny. When you know what the person meant to say, and yet it came out so differently…it’s hilarious. That’s probably one reason I love sites like Lamebook and WTF AutoCorrects–the funniest moments come from those inadvertent mistakes in a status message or a comment, and it renders the whole sentence as nonsense. Both sites, as well as thousands of others across the Internet, are brimming with typo examples that make me giggle.

But it’s not just online that typos appear for a quick laugh. Signage, especially handwritten signs or movable-letter signs, can be just as full of errors and lead to a snort or snicker while driving down the road. (I actually had to pull off the road into a parking lot one time because I had driven by a prom dress shop whose sign read “BUY YOUR WHOLE PRON LOOK HERE.” I was laughing so hard at the unintentional Internet porn reference, I was crying and couldn’t drive. XD)

As a former English teacher, I’ve seen my share of typos and their written counterparts in student work, and I see a lot of them online. I know I really shouldn’t laugh at typos, but should madly correct them with a grumble and a swipe of my red pen. …but I DO laugh. Often. And without holding back. Each typo I see is a little unexpected jolt of “LOL” in the middle of a day of “BLAH” or a session of “OMGIHAVETOREADTHIS???REALLY?!”.

I think typos and autocorrects give us all a little mental break, even if we have to go back and fix them. It’s fun to realize everyone’s still human!

Examples of Typos that Make Me Laugh

For each of these, click the image for a larger picture.


I love it when people confuse hungry with Hungary. Then I can come back at them with a joke about heading to Turkey if you’re Hungary. XD


Typo + irony. Guaranteed to make a Robin laugh.


“Carpet the day,” hmm? LOL


Both the typo and the commenter’s response give me fits of the snickers.


Homophones are hard to tell apart, aren’t they? (I should know, I had to teach and reteach about how to spell different words that sound alike while I taught school…)


The graffiti itself is merely laughable. The reply is delightfully snark. XD


Hilarious (and somewhat accurate, considering the state of Myspace?) autocorrect.
Autocorrect + lots of win in reply. XD

So…much…fail…can’t breathe from laughing at the multiple autocorrects!

Credits to Lamebook and WTF AutoCorrects for the pictures and the hundreds of hours of LOLs. 😀

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Cage Shoes and Bootie Heels: Like Wooden Clogs, Only Weirder

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There’s a new trend in shoes that I just really don’t get: the trend of caging one’s foot in fabric or leather, either in straps or in larger pieces of fabric, that come together to ALMOST form a boot shape, but not really. I’ve seen it referred to as a “bootie heel” or a “peep-toe bootie”. I call it like I see it–a “cage shoe” or “clog.” And even real wooden clogs are not this odd.

First, we have the “cage shoe” look, in which thick straps of fabric are woven or stretched across the foot, sometimes almost-completely encasing the foot, sometimes not.


Your feet ain’t goin’ anywhere.
Now you see your foot, now you don’t
Trying to be a sandal?
Going for the woven look?

Strange cutouts in the toe area…painful to look at
Stuck between a cage sandal and a bootie wedge

Then we have the “peeptoe” bootie, which is almost-but-not-quite a full boot, except without the fabric rising above the ankle that would make the shoe actually look nicer on the leg.


It might have been cool if it was just a high-heeled ankle-high boot
Not really a “bootie,” but not really a wedge heel either. And that color combo… :/
Almost a feminine boot, but not quite

Thirdly, we have the “full-coverage” bootie, which isn’t a style of pants but a style of shoe, covering the whole foot but forgetting the flattering ankle fit.


Clogs with leopard print on them. Really?
Clunky in the front, spiky in the back–the shoe version of a mullet.

We also have the “hiking-boot” style bootie heel, which attempts to blend feminine and masculine shoe styles together…um, yeah.


Clomp, clomp, clomp.
It has Grandpa’s laces, but it matches the granddaughter’s wardrobe better.
Strange angular shape to this bootie…

Strangely over-masculine…I think it’s the leather color and the laces that makes me think that.

And lastly, we have the “backless” bootie, which might be the strangest-looking shoe of the whole bunch:


The shoe version of a backless top, I guess…?
WHAT. In the world. Is this. I don’t even.

The above photos show the variety these strange shoes come in–they are in all colors and all fabrics, and either high-heels or wedges, but they always look like a hiking boot or clog gone wrong. They manage to make even the thinnest of legs look violently cut off at the bottom of the ankle; they somehow strike a horrid balance between strange couture and vagrant chic.

Is it just me? Is it a marker of my growing-up years and my culture, that I prefer shoes that DON’T look like cement blocks made in fashionable colors? I’m not sure. All I know is that these styles don’t flatter any woman’s legs at all, and they don’t look all that comfortable, either–I’m all too familiar with how multiple straps, thin or thick, can bind swelling feet when you’re standing in heels like that. And the peep-toe cutting straight across cramped toes–ah, the red marks of pain!

Basically, these styles of shoe offend two of my long-standing rules of fashion:

  1. Wear shoes that flatter your legs, whenever possible;
  2. Wear shoes that are comfortable to your feet, whenever possible.

Comfort and style are often at odds, even for me, but even the original Crocs boat-shoe look is better than this (and more comfortable to boot–pardon the pun).

Just thought I’d share this bit of fashion weirdness and ask your opinion on this kind of footwear. Are they more comfortable than they look? Are there instances where this style actually looks good with other items of clothing?

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Driving like a Ninja

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In my little Ford Focus ZX3, I usually tool around town driving as defensively and carefully as possible. Of course, there is the odd moment where I am not focused on the road (phone ringing or preventing things from taking a tumble into the floorboard), but for the most part, I do my best to stay alert. This is very difficult in an age where we are all supposed to be hyper-accessible to other people no matter what we’re doing, and we’re all supposed to stay updated on absolutely EVERYTHING that happens every day.

Not only that, I use my car’s small size to maneuver in and out of traffic a lot more easily. Even though I have been in a couple of minor accidents (very, VERY minor–no injury and only a bit of damage), through God’s grace I’ve been able to avoid thousands more accidents. Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether I was going to be able to stop in time–and sometimes, I’ve thanked God that I looked up or noticed something when I did.

This is what I call “ninja-driving”–scooting away from danger and getting where I need to be as safely as possible. It involves quite a bit of alertness, a large helping of creative driving skills, and lastly (and most importantly), a lot of divine blessings. 😀

An Old-School Example of Ninja-Driving from My Family

I suppose ninja-driving runs in the family. A funny family anecdote goes something like this:

My grandfather was driving my grandmother, mom, and dad to a backyard barbecue in the community. They arrived, and he was trying to park in the hosts’ car-crowded front yard. The only way to get to the last piece of usable yard space (it was a BIG barbecue!) was to drive straight between two other cars, which at first looked too close together to get through.

Without a pause, Granddaddy slowly advanced toward the cars, and the narrow space between them. Gran and Mom were in the backseat of the car and saw what he was intending to do–they both gasped.

He laughed. “I’m not gonna worry till I hear my son-in-law holler.” And the car slid straight through without a scratch or bump on either side. 🙂

I don’t know if I’ve inherited much of Granddaddy’s abilities, but I do like to call my little car the “ninja car,” because its small size and decent pickup speed has helped it escape much danger (and thus, I stay safer, too).

How Do You Define “Ninja Driving?”

I like to think driving like a ninja includes the following:

  • Aggressive use of brakes (i.e., not being afraid to brake if it will avoid an accident). If the person behind you is too distracted to stop or too busy tailgating you to pay attention to your brakes, that’s not your problem. What would be your problem is if you let yourself be intimidated and ran into the back of someone else.
  • Tapping brakes to alert drivers behind you–flashing red lights usually attract attention, and it’s easier to hit than your hazards. I use this when I’m coming up on a traffic situation I’m unsure of, just in case the guy/gal behind me isn’t paying much attention.
  • Using the side of the road (carefully) as a way to avoid an accident–just don’t hit the brakes when your tire goes off-road, and don’t rush to get back on the road. Let off gas, glide onto side of road, then glide back on when it’s safe. Easy does it. Don’t get too nervous when you hear and feel the noise of your tire being off-road–trust me, your car will survive it much better if you don’t get nervous.
  • Watching your mirrors, all the time. I watch my rearview mirror (out of peripheral vision) almost as much as I watch what’s coming up ahead of me. Keeps tabs on tailgaters, rapidly accelerating people, people who don’t know what “STOP” means, etc.

    (This saved my life at a stoplight late one night–a transfer truck blew through a red light that I had been stopped at, until I looked in my rearview mirror and thought, “That guy doesn’t look like he’s going to stop.” I inched over into the left-turn lane instead, and a few seconds later, the truck barreled straight through the intersection. He would have totaled me and my little car both had I not seen him and moved.)

  • Taking back roads if it would mean avoiding a very difficult intersection or difficult turn.
  • Avoiding driving at night unless I have to–people seem to “forget” how to drive at night.
  • In very heavy rain, using hazard lights. Sometimes, that’s the only way people can see you in their rearview mirror when the world around their cars is veiled with a gray curtain of rain!

Summary

Driving is not just a skill, it’s an art…and like any art, it takes practice. Though I know I’ll never be as awesomely ninja as a stunt driver, a girl can dream–while avoiding accidents!