you remember Hal?
he was a computer, right?
he was the devil

Dear Horrible People Who Created Self-Checkout,

Hi. I just wanted to send a little note to let you all know how much I HATE YOU. I don’t know why you thought self-checkout was a brilliant idea. I don’t know why your marketing people thought that pissing off every.single.customer. would be better than, oh, I don’t know, paying some surly kid minimum wage to piss us off.

Would you like to know, specifically, why self-checkout makes me want to hunt you down and set your brain on fire?

1) Having a computer shriek at me – in extremely loud volume – "Remove unscanned object from the bagging area!" and then, immediately after I remove the item, shout at me, "Do not remove any objects from the bagging area!" And then continue in this "he said she said" shouting match with itself until an aforementioned surly teen pushes a button from her little turret-like station in the midst of all the self-checkouts – well – THAT MAKES ME CRAZY.

2) Having to scan and rescan and delete and force cash into a slot and fight with a surly teen about my right to buy alcohol and then get shrieked at by a computer demanding me to take my receipt. Time? Not saved.

3) Your revenues do not increase when you piss off every customer you have. Sure, you may save the money you’d ordinarily pay a surly teen, or a single mom, or a retiree, but you lose any money I (and the quadzillion others like me) might spend at your store.

So what are the lessons this letter is trying to teach you? Self-checkout = The Devil. Self-checkout = No time saved. Self-checkout = No money saved. Self-checkout = unhealthy cortisol surges in already stressed out mothers and old people who have bad hearts.

Please, please Horrible People Who Created Self-Checkout, rethink your "gift" to modern society. It sucks. People hate it. Now please call me so I can dictate this letter to you, you can write it out yourself, you can address the envelope to yourself, you can lick your own damn stamp, affix it, and you can mail it downstairs in the mailroom so that it will be delivered to your desk in a few minutes.

Boy, THAT sounds convenient, doesn’t it?

Concerned Mother



looked for some guppies
all-wheel drive aquarium
used to be called "car"

Hey, so you know what works as a great rain gauge? The cupholders in your car. After you leave the sun roof open. All night long. While it rains. And rains. And rains.


the wee one is pleased
not only does mom say "fart"
she can command them

So. My neck farts. This is a new and interesting development in my life. It seems that whenever I pitch my chin down to my chest, or turn my neck and dip my chin into that space above my clavicle, there’s a fart! I’m thinking this may be a good trick for Letterman. Or maybe it’s just a sign that I need to clean my neck.

such a dork

made it out of house
sans child, sans hubby, sans brain
bookstores are so cool

Tonight I went to a book launch! And I listened to the author read from her book. And I sat in the back row. And I got my copy of the book signed. And if this all sounds like ordinary stuff, I have to say that for me it was not. For some reason I have this thing – this public shyness thing. It’s really frustrating. I just kind of stand around and stare at me feet. Thank god for my friend Laura who came with me tonight. I would have never have gone alone.

But once I was there it was great fun. It was fun to put a writers face with her name. It’s always kind of weird to meet people in person that you already know from online. Because on some level you’re not really "meeting" for the first time, yet, if you had no face-to-face introduction you would never know who each other was. You know?

Anyway. The reading was fun. I’m pretty sure I acted like a moron, but I don’t get out of the house a lot, so even acting like a moron is fine with me if I get to do it sans child and past 8 o’clock at night.

You rock, Marrit. And so does your book.


just can’t correct him
he’s hilariously cute
not that I’m biased

The wee one has invented two new words/sayings, "forbout" and "learned it up". He also told me that "Simon Says" is a penis game. This worries me a bit. i don’t think he’s been playing Simon Says with child molesters, but I know for a fact he just saw Barney playing it on TV. So whatever subliminal crap Barney is poisoning my child with, I wish he would quit it.

Back to the inventions.

Yesterday at dinner the wee one wanted us to tell him a story "forbout" himself. I think that if he adds an apostrophe, he may have him self a new contraction. Ex: "The newspaper article for’bout the families of child geniuses is very entertaining."

Tonight at dinner is when he busted out with "learned it up". He was talking about about Simon Says, actually, and I was quizzing him on where he heard about the game, and who, in fact, told him it was played with genitals. He told me that no one taught him the game – he learned it up himself. And I guess that’s kind of a contraction too, in that he has obviously learned about Simon Says somewhere, and then made up extracurricular avenues of play.

I feel a little bit like blogging fits in with all of this somehow. This whole talking for’bout myself thing… I learn it up as I go along.