Excuse Me

I will now share with you my time tested alibi's to get you out of a pinch. Use them sparingly and only under extreme duress for future your own credibility. Trust me, I lie.

When caught spending an inappropriate amount of money on foolish novelties:

Break into song while still holding shopping bags if possible. Robert Palmers, "She's so fine there's no telling where the money went.." Dance while singing to further draw attention away from new unneeded items. If this does not appear to be working switch Palmer songs to "Addicted to Love." Take your clothes off.

When invited to a celebration or party you really don't want to go to:

Send back the RSVP card with this sentence written on it, "Sorry, just not interested." This actually happened to a co worker when she invited a distant relative to her wedding. I'm not sure if that was the must honest or most hurtful thing, but it worked and there was no lame excuse used.

When hit up for money:

Answer, "Seamonkeys got my money." People will think you are too flaky to have money to barrow. Got this one from K2 when his bud tried to con him out of his allowance.

When Jehovah Witnesses appear on your door:

Lean against door frame and listen to them for the first ten seconds. Interrupt them by ruffling your hand through your tousled hair and yawn saying, "I'm sorry I really can't seam to pay attention. Yawn again. I was up late last night with my ritual sacrificing and I just need my shut eye you know?"


How to get out of work:

Call in from a noisy area like the side of the road or the middle of a car wash. "It ddoesn't look like I'm going to make it in today. Hello? Boss can you hear-click(hang up). Next day do not make eye contact with employer. If directly asked what happened, sigh, look down and answer,"I just can't bring myself to talk about it yet." Sigh again and turn and walk away. If possible have a friend pick you up from work. Shake slightly when you hear loud noises and tremple when you drink your coffee.

When asked to dance with someone you do not care to dance with, answer:

"Sorry not right now. I got the vapors." Of course this only works with the dim wits who do not know that a vapor is gas. I used to use this excuse with my hubby all the time till he found out a vary was a fart. Now he just tells me to get my stinky ass to work.

When the NRA calls asking for your husband wanting a donation:

Reply in a shaky voice, "My husband? You want to talk to my husband? He's dead. He died in a hand gun accident." If you are surpressing laughter it sounds like weeping and they will not call you again.

How to get out of having sex:

Don't be silly. Why would you not want to have sex?

How to get out of doing just about anything:

Say, "I got woman problems." Do not blame pms or aunt flo. Those excuses are just way too over done. Just say "Woman problems." They won't want to hear no more and will walk off.

How to get out of giving a job recommendation:

Give a recommendation just choose your words carefully. "I think you would be really lucky if you got Elmo to work for you." See you just very nicely called your coworker Elmo a slacker. Elmo, infact, inspired me for this idea.

How to get out of being caught in the act of badness:

Once again you must pull a double double and stick to it to the end. "What? I'm not using your fillet knife. Who are you going trust, Me or your old lying eyes?" vehemently denies wrong doing.

Getting away with doing what you want:

"I get soo few pleasures out of life." It helps if you look like you are actually appear to be doing something productive at the time. "I mean, I have the house cleaned. I have a job. I've taught the kids to take care of themselves. (Pretent at this point to be cleaning off cumputer screen while in fact booking tickets.) I should be able to go to Las Vegas once in my life and not be the last person on earth to see it." Remember the key phrase, "So few pleasures." Add it to any small accomplishments you have ever done. Do not bring up the fact you last week spent your life savings on sea monkeys or Robert Palmer cd's.

When people ride you about not writing:

Run off to a different country or state. Design a restaurant. Make 14 different recipes for cloudberry panna cotta. Sit in your basement full of pretween boys watching horror movings and forien films. Write down long quotes for your gaming biz friend then loose them. Poke your best guy friend in the back with a stick. Think up new names for a busniess. But answer, "I been busy."

And Me Without My Rosary Beads

Forgive me, you may think it is a sin:

I live in Minnesota, birth place of Bob Dylan, yet I know not one Dylan song. I know he has a huge following but I've been busy. As my penance, I will call him dad when I marry Jacob, and he can sing at our wedding.

I don't care a hoot about the oscars. Wouldn't bother me a bit if no one won anything and they all wore semi recycled garbage bags instead of designer duds. To make up for this, I don't care about the emmeys or the grammys either. Or any celebrity for that matter.

I have not slept with my husband in nine years. Oh we do have our fun time but I draw the line at sleeping with him. The man has snored himself awake and could accidentally crush small villages in his slumber. He is capable of holding intellectual conversations when he wakes up hourly and expects me to answer appropriately instead of yelling,"Shut the hell up. I do not know where the house taxes are." I would get a better nights sleep in the food processor.

I don't care if my kid never uses a pencil in class again, so stop sending me home notes in your athoritative red pen, Ms. Caulkins. It makes me feel good he writes in ink using a permanent attitude. And then re writes it. And writes it again. Because he can't erase, his handwriting is improving ever so much. I do feel slightly guilty about the names he labels you with . Kinda.

In general I think all Britons are self inflated unattractive rude twits. But I have a thing for chef Gordon Ramsey. But if he ever came into my kitchen, I'd get so nervous, I'd wack one of my own fingers off to get away from him.

I hate the color purple. When I was a little girl, I'd always take my purple color crayon out of my box of eight before the school year began and bury it in my mothers flower garden. Keep all concord grape flavored stuff away from me. I can do green grapes, red onion and cabbage as long as you do not refer to them being purple. If I have to stay in a purple room for any period of time I become aggravated. I have zero purple pride. Mauve I consider ify.

I clean before my maid gets here. And by clean, I mean I shove all my garbage and dirty clothes into the boys bathroom. Dirty little pigs.

I have this fantasy involving a certain club downtown, my boss, Pearl Jam, finger food, and that black leather thing in my closet. I'd confess more but it's ugly.

I feel little a sympathy for the substance abusers I mother at my work. But it is the damn staff I hate. The ones who will not acknowledge me, and make my job more difficult, want special attention just to come across as caring individuals to their patients. Till they want a free meal. Then they turn into food whores.

I have never been in the boundary waters.

I'm sorry I call my husband "Old Goat". I will only refer to him as any of the following, Goat. Goaty Mc Goat Goat. Crusty the Goat Fart. Old as the Hills Goat. Goats R You. Gizzle Goatypants. Goatpie Grizzle Crust. Goatbait Dust Breath. Bill.

I love K1 more but K2 is my favorite.

When the cops pull me over for speeding and I apologize, I am not the least bit sorry. I am just sorry that caught me and I gotta pay.

I am not sorry I told my kids I was raised by wolves on the Canadian border. It was so much fun to tell them of my survival techniques and see that scared look in their eyes.

Back when my hubby would leave a LOADED shot gun in our barn to hunt ducks that flew over our pasture on the weekends it really ticked me off. He never shot a duck the whole time he left that stinkin gun out there. So when my friend Cadilack Cliff came by and asked if I wanted a couple ducks he had just shot I said yes. I then whent out to the barn and fired off the shotgun into the air. When I called my hubby and told him I got two ducks and only fired one time with his gun, he never left a loaded weapon laying around again. I'll tell him the whole story one day, just not yet.

I have never liked U2. But then again, I don't like River Dance either.

Kim Jong-Il is way too goofy looking to be a serious hazard. Somebody plant a bomb under him please.

My husband's ugly throphy musky he had mounted that now resides out in our pole barn was never involved in an "accident." The damage was caused by me and a hatchet. But I was really really mad at the time. I wish I could remember what I was mad about as it must have been good.

Whenever I see Elaine, the spiritual consular heading toward my kitchen with her organic eggs that she wants me to make special for her while at the same time cooking for sixty other dinners, or when she asks me to separated the broccoli and cauliflower veggies so no cauliflower touches her plate, I smile real big and think of her toothbrush holder. She, on occasion, has left her vibrator behind in her room, when staying overnight and had the nerve to go to the housekeeping lost and found and claimed it was her toothbrush holder. Brush your teeth a little more often there Elaine, would ya, and just leave me alone.

I called Ms. Hugaprick er Huminick a bad name when she pestered me about my keyboarding skills back in school. She was nothin but right.

Kyle's Left Arm

I lay there in bed all glowing knowing I had just experienced the best sex of my life. I opened my eyes after recovering from my estisey all happy knowing every thing was right in the world and having never felt so alive when I realized his big rock hard arm was still under my head. So I turned my head to look at him and realized it was Kyle's arm. Kyle's arm. I do not even know his last name. And I'm not sure what he does at work. It just seamed so right at the time, so natural that our karma libido paridiams where a lined as one. Funny I had never even thought of him in a physical way. I mean he is really good looking and everything. But he is just Kyle, you know what I mean?
Ever since that time I find my self gravitating towards him. I make up excuses to be near him. I need him to share a private moment or a knowing smile. It just gives me a little warm feeling when ever he comes around. And when he is near I never have anything much to say. I just blush a lot. I wonder if he ever had a dream like that about me.