Humor

My Out Of Office Auto-Responder

Well, this is a disappointment. You dispatch an email to me only to have a response im-frickin-mediately — Holy cats! That. Was. Fast!! Then you realize it’s just a dumb auto-responder. Nothing remotely personal about it. The bitter truth rises in your gut when you realize: Ann’s on vacation — not holed up (as she usually is) just waiting for something to respond to. Like your email. Point being, I’m unavailable. (I just switched confusing between first and third person, if you noticed. Things are running fast and loose this week, aren’t they?) Point also being, even if you tried to hide your disappointment and resulting hot tears of frustration at my absence, you’d be powerless. Am I right? There, there. Buck up. I’ll be back. Next week. And I’ll do my best to get back to you then. Or maybe before. I will be checking email and Twitter and […]

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‘If It’s Empty, Fill It’… and 10 Other Rules for Living Companionably with Teenagers, Kids and the Generally Clueless

I created this slide show a while ago, after a particularly interesting challenging irritatingly irritating few days when I felt like I was the only one in my household who recognized stuff that needed doing. And the only one who subsequently did it. Can you relate? I’m sorry.

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Same-Sex Discount

We are standing in line at Westminster Abbey, waiting to pay the admission fee. Up ahead, the cashier is housed behind glass in the entry vestibule, which is a small area with a cold, stone floor. It’s chilly and damp outside and much the same inside; when we finally slip past the door and inside, it’s like walking into a refrigerator made of rocks. It’s £16 for an adult admission for me and my friend Beccy, and another £6 for each of the three children with us. In total, that’s £32 + £18, or £50. But then I notice an alternative: The family rate for 2 adults and one child is £32, plus £6 for each additional child. Or, in our case, £44, in total. That saves us £6 in admission—roughly $10 US. At the time of our trip (late winter of 2011) each US dollar is worth about half

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How to Feed a Fussy Little Dog: Chile’s List of Requirements

1. Preference to remain someplace safe — lurking in the shadows, under a bed — while the other dogs (“idiots”) chaotically dance around and drool at the ping of kibble hitting the bowl. Rationale: You can get stepped on, drooled on, or accidentally eaten when Maisy mistakes you for a bit of sausage (it could happen). 2. Include something special in the bowl — preferably on top of, not UNDERNEATH (!!) — the kibble. Sausage will do (see sausage comment, above), as will turkey, cheese, chicken, ham, or almost any kind of food preferred by the French. Foods to avoid: Eggs (blech!), lamb (not sure why, I just don’t like the idea of it, I guess), and any kind of vegetable, although clearly this should go without saying. Also, bear in mind that not all dogs like liver and other organ meats, and this includes me. I’d rather have a

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Toy Story 3: ‘Contains Mild Thematic Elements Not Appropriate for Older Viewers’

Dear Motion Picture Association of America: I’m freshly back from the theater after seeing Toy Story 3. One question: A G-rating? What were you thinking? I haven’t been this disturbed since the Turkish prison scenes in Midnight Express. The first two Toy Story movies centered on the happy relationship between a young boy named Andy and his toys. In Disney/Pixar’s Toy Story 3, Andy is packing for college, and the story leaves the toys to fend for themselves in a world where there’s no one to care for them. It’s not that the movie was mis-rated. No sex. No violence. It is a kid’s movie. Orrrrr…. is it? Because here’s what happens: Abandoned by a grown-up Andy, the desperate, panicked toys have to not only find a new home, but also a way to recapture their raison d’etre… The simple joy and richness of being loved best by a child.

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Annecdote: Tea Time

It’s alarming to talk with someone on the phone and realize they suspect you are a liar. This past week I received, via FTD, a belated birthday package—a gourmet basket with some of my favorite things. Like tea, biscotti, and dried apricots. There was a warm message on the card accompanying it, wishing me lots of post-celebration, feet-on-the-ottoman relaxation this autumn… but there was no signature. No name. In effect, I got a thoughtful gift from someone I couldn’t thank for their thoughtfulness. Weird. I called the customer service number in the packaging, and someone named Danielle answered. (On a Saturday afternoon… Kudos, FTD!) I explained the predicament, and Danielle said she understood but couldn’t tell me who sent the package. “You mean you can’t tell me, as in you don’t know?” I asked. “Oh, I know who sent it,” Danielle said. “But it’s just that I can’t reveal it

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Gigi Spies a Green Tomato: A Tragicomedy in Five Parts

The stage: A small wooden deck with sturdy balusters, overlooking a vegetable garden in late season. Enter main character: Gigi, a 6-year-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. It’s clear from her saunter that Gigi is unhurried and uncomplicated, and her portly figure implies a dog who is enthusiastic about her meals. Suddenly, Gigi sees something that piques her interest, and a drama ensues. Scene 1: Gigi spies a green tomato that has fallen from its vine in the garden. From the glint in her eye and quickening of her step, it’s clear she considers the green tomato a tasty prize — a kind of lucky harvest her enterprising belly has stumbled upon. Scene 2: Lacking a working knowledge of spacial relevance, Gigi attempts to reach the tomato by squeezing her ample physique (oof!) through the (blasted!) unforgiving deck rails. In an instant, she regrets the enthusiasm with which she enjoyed last night’s

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Awkward Family Photos

As I sometimes reveal here, there is something universal about the awkwardness of family. About a week ago, two childhood friends launched a site to document as much. The results — in the vein of LOLCats and Stuff White People Like — are hilarious: The Choker: “This is what happens when your male role model is both a priest and a gym teacher.” ———————————————————————————————- My Two Dads: “You may use your calculator for this equation.” (Favorite comment: “I am very confused by this. Is the guy in the front right like a neighborhood computer guy who helps them out sometimes?”) ———————————————————————————————–

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