Archive for the Snark Category

Laundry Day and Daleks

Posted in Geek Pride!, Snark, Snarky Pride? on January 20, 2015 by Misanthropic Mom's Group

While mining for laundry in Lamp’s room I came across a particularly rich vein of socks. At least a half dozen “pairs”. Meaning that they are all black because I only buy him black socks, so I use the term pairs loosely. It is funny how much pleasure this gives me. My life is sad.

There are also some stains of questionable provenance. But we mustn’t go there.

When mining for teenaged laundry one needs to take the same sort of precautions one would take for any other sort of mining. First it is imperative that someone else knows you are in there. You don’t need to be in constant two way communication with someone on the outside, but at the very least there needs to be someone who will alert authorities if you fail to return in a timely manner. Cave ins are always a possibility, and your screams could be muffled if you are beneath a pile of laundry, old kleenex, and a metric ton of Legos. Because of this, you should always work from the top down. Pulling a likely looking sock from the side of a pile could easily result in a landslide.

Always watch your footing. Place each foot down gently yet firmly to ensure that the substrate is stable. As always, watch out for Legos. They are everywhere, and unlike guitar picks can deliver a nasty wound. If you see one, be assured that there are 10,000 more in hiding.

Breathing gear is optional, but recommended for any but the most strong of stomach. Food containers can and will have things growing in them that may emit hazardous agents. Try to remember that your goal is only the laundry or you could be trapped for days. Get in and out quickly, yet safely. You can always check pants pockets for money after leaving the hazard zone.

Bright lighting is a bit of a quandary. One needs light enough for safety, and to be able to avoid at all costs stepping IN something, but there are certain things that one would rather view in a softer lighting. If one must view them at all. I find that a single overhead is more than enough and can even be dispensed with entirely on bright days if the window happens to be visible.

Finally, try not to think too hard on where the stains may have come from. Just wash the blanket/sock/shirt/curtains and move on. Too much thought can lead to dark places, and that way leads to madness. However, as I learned after the quail incident, sometimes the reason it smells like something is dead in there… is that something is dead in there.

Anyhow laundry day was a nice break from the partially completed knitted Dalek shaped coffee press cozy which is taunting me from where I discarded it in exhaustion yesterday. It is slightly lopsided so far, and is only about 1/3 complete, but I can still hear it in my head. Obligate! Obligate! Obligate!

I think I may actually be getting better at un-knitting mistakes than I am at knitting them in the first place.


Lamp, meet Toilet

Posted in Snark, Snarky Pride? on October 15, 2012 by Misanthropic Mom's Group

Yesterday I was explaining to the boy that I now have a Blog. I explained to him that he will be featured in said Blog, and that it will likely include some of his… let us call them “exploits”. Actually, I think I told him I would be writing about the stupid-ass things he occasionally does, and that having them revealed in the Blog is in fact his punishment for every so often being a complete idiot. And by idiot, I really mean being a thirteen year old. He immediately told me that I was not to use his name, and I assured him that I would not, and that I planned to refer to him simply as The Boy. He said he preferred to be called “Lamp”, because that is just the kind of guy he is.

I find being around a thirteen year old boy to actually be quite fascinating. He and all his friends are such a bizarre combination of intellectual maturity like cheese sprinkled at random onto a noodley bed of impulsive actions, thoughtless behavior, random kindness and resentful frustration. With hormone sauce. They all have effortless musical talents most adults would kill for, and they are all as awkward and adorable as Saint Bernard puppies. I never had any brothers, so most of the time I find them delightful as long as I stay far enough away to avoid the smell.

So anyhow, we recently made the decision to get Lamp his own iPhone. His little sister, The Responsible One, has had one for about a year now, and it has been a small point of contention. She got hers mainly because he already had a phone, which was provided by his father. This phone had proven useless for the purposes of reaching him because after six months of neglecting to charge it, neglecting to carry it, and repeatedly losing it, his father forbade him to remove it from the premises. This phone had no data capabilities, and was most certainly NOT an iPhone, so it held little appeal for him and as a result spent all of its time at his dad’s apartment. Mostly turned off. His sister, on the other hand, could be trusted to carry and charge her phone, and thus provided me with a means to keep in touch with them when spending time with their dad. She also immediately installed the safety lock screen with a passcode so that Lamp could never, ever use her phone without permission. And groveling.

I decided to finally get him his own because he was spending more time out and about by himself, or with friends, and I wanted a way to reach HIM specifically. I figured that an iPhone would hold more appeal for him as he could also listen to music, play games, and use the internet, thereby providing him with an incentive to charge it and care for it. He didn’t get the latest model, because I never get the latest model of any Apple product, but he was still utterly, completely thrilled. He carried it with him with the dedication and loving devotion of a father penguin caring for his egg through the harsh polar winter. He had it about 30 hours before the Incident.

As I was coming downstairs I heard something between a shriek and a squawk and by the time I arrived he was frantically drying his new iPhone with his shirt. It seems that he had taken it with him to the bathroom.

And dropped it.

In the toilet.

Which he had just peed in.

When I asked him why, WHY??? would he bring it with him into the bathroom, he said, and I quote, “I was testing the light.”

Once I had finished laughing at him I was just grateful that he was not testing the camera.

I was also a little impressed. Had he dropped anything else into a bowl full of fresh, warm urine I am pretty damn sure that I would have been recruited to fish it out. This is a boy who doesn’t even like to scrape out the inside of his own pumpkin at Halloween. But in this case he was like the proverbial 105 pound woman who lifts a car off of her beloved child. He didn’t hesitate. He acted! And in the end, no lasting harm was sustained by the phone, which I think is a testament to the engineering and foresight of the folks at Apple. I am tempted to send them a user testimonial, but I am not sure how useful it would be to them for marketing purposes.

So one minute I am tearing my hair out trying to find ANY sense of logic in “testing the light”, and the next minute I am unimaginably proud. Last night I took him to see Argo (which was great by the way) and ALREADY pretty pleased that my 13 year old son wanted to see a movie about the Iranian hostage crisis. As we walked through the theater lobby I noticed a poster for a Twilight movie marathon, and I was unable to resist teasing him a little by suggesting that I get him a ticket. After the predictable snort of derision, I reminded him that it might be a good place to meet girls.

His immediate response?

“Not the right kind.”

GOOD boy. YOU get a biscuit!