I'm not sure I needed to roll up the jeans that much to get in the 'lake.'
But when you're well on your way to achieving World's Greatest Aunt Status, there is a tendency to become a little over-eager.
and i simply cannot avoid posting this.
seeing a baby deer, a newt and a box turtle in an hour's time was too much for baby owen. excuse me. 'owie.' His cuteness cannot be contained by a mere Snugli.
If I remember correctly, it was his father who adorned him with the forest fern.
Trip highlights include(and I'm stealing from the journal entry here):
1. Jacob's fondness for the phrase "I had a BAD DAY." (see exhibits and b at the conclusion of this post.) 2. The psychedelic lights in the farmhouse hot tub. (I'll never forget May 27, 2007 Kate, if you are reading this...) 3. Opening phrase of the trip included the words "Lynnnndsey....why did you and Seth pack a 5-pack of Budweiser?" Shut up. I wanted a little road soda. Now come give auntie a kiss. 4. Re. lax. ation. Interrupted only by frequent and huge meals/naps. 5. Razzleberry pie.
The lake beach had lots of teenage smokers and Parents of the Year, but I'd say that just about rounds out the Top Five. Aaron had a copy of Omnivore's Dilemma, marking the third official sign for me to buy the book. Anyone have a copy I can borrow?
Finally, This Week In Job, I have edited almost 100 letters and already have come up with a few basic guidelines for successful letter-writing. 1. Please remove any singing/dancing cat icons from your email. 2. If you insist on bashing immigrants and other "non-english speakers who invade our city you know the ones," please refrain from butchering the very language you are defending in the same letter. 'you don't know how bad these people are effecting the way people is taught in our schools.'
ugh.
eddie the school maintenance guy said it best back in aught-aught: people is dumb. no wonder people kill people.
please refrain from criticising any grammatical errors found here on theteet. they were all intentional. strength of character, etc.
Monsterbeard -- Today in "Our lives as a competition and this time it's to the bottom," I will inform you I am just wrapping up my sixth 12-hour workday. Bite it.
It's mostly because I'm incompetent and slow. Like a baby trying to tie its own shoes. Only with more slobber and arm fat.
There is so much I want to say here.
1.) Seth broke his toe, or rather, the lumber monkey at Lowe's smashed it, and he decided to drill a hole in the nail to relieve the pressure. 2.) This weekend in Hocking Hills, I almost touched a baby deer and my sister-in-law got a royal straight flush. It was enchanting. 3.) Seth and I also became very aware that we do not have children. 4.) Jenny Wray is engaged. (That's 50 to 60 more people you won't have to tell, My Little Jet-lagged Nester) 5.) AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. Letters! Check out SNPonline Thursdayish for my debut column. Positive feedback only, please. 6.) Both Gramps are in the hospital again. 7.) Hope everyone is all right. 8.) I have to go home before Seth kills me. 9.) Hmm. Third mention of Seth. He has no idea how lucky he is. Amen.
The landing is actually much bigger than it looks here.
Please notice new subfloors and the extra space where the giant chimney used to be. And all the stuff we did under the floor (former chasm) that you can't see. Please notice that, too.
Also, fyi, Seth and Maybel found another stray pig last night, but this one got away. Can't say I'm too disappointed.
Please do not send any more hilarious emails during normal business hours.
It's really sad to laugh out loud in this lonely cubicle all my myself. (LOLITLCBM)
That includes you, Co-Workers I Once Could See On A Daily Basis Without Needing an Excuse to Walk Over to Your Side of the Office. and you, too, Pdawg.
At least I have the printer.
Three times a week the cartoonist sends his work over and part of my job involves printing this cartoon out and distributing it to others. I can talk to people then!!!! Otherwise, I'm forced to put out a bear trap in front of the cube and hold them all hostage.
Despite mentioning her at least three times in normal conversation, (twice while wiping Poop across my lips, and a third during an email conversation about humping refrigerators) I neglected to remember that yesterday was May 21, known in some cultures as Mae's birthday.
Add me to your Awesome Friends file.
I knew it was coming, but I thought today was the 14th. You can imagine how confusing the real May 21 must have been for me.
Anyway, darling, I want to publicly apologize for my misdeed. For my non-deed. For not calling. Please forgive me.
I saved all your inspirational comments in a folder at work. As a Marketplace of Ideas Purist, the decision to whack that last post was difficult, but after discussing things with my family, we at theteet.blogspot.com thought it a wise decision, as we will explain in an upcoming YouTube campaign ad. I'll keep it in draft and republish in 2025. Or on June 5, depending.
Speaking of not speaking, I am not talking about work, asking for days off, talking out of turn, missing a deadline or wearing flip-flops until 2010.
Well -- let me just say this about work.
It's been a wild ride the last couple days, as many of you have witnessed. In sum, I've been promoted, demoted, and re-promoted (Remoted?) in the last 48 hours.
My poor co-workers -- I've switched desks three times and they've all sent corresponding congratulatory/condolence/congratulatory emails as appropriate. The brave souls to stop by in person have given high fives, pats on the back and a cautious thumbs-up gesture -- they are weary, as I am, of my impending re-demotion.
Let's just say I have a super-boss who made a bold move politically to skip over a couple of other more powerful heads to convince the CEO of the new company that I -- or my position, rather -- was a good idea. No pressure. None whatsoever. What's pressure? Stop talking about the pressure. The boss who remains unconvinced rides into town June 4. I have already sent a fruit basket to his hotel.
So say what you will about that man we all love to hate. Maybe I'll post all work stories through pdawg, who is compiling. (I get halfsies on the book deal, my friend) cause in the meantime (read: 6 days), I'm on board with everything. The troops are in line. I'm going to spend the weekend sharpening pencils, darning my socks and writing a years worth of award-winning columns.
Anyway, applying to nursing school seems hard. I've been told I would look funny in that hat, anyway.
first, thanks for your call, but i will no longer be accepting "my best joke evers" via cell phone and/or personal email. type it out for the masses, lazy bums. i'm not collecting these just to award arbitrary points. Jesus is adding this to your file. he doesn't care if the joke is really dirty. probably.
My favorite juxtaposition? RE: The Invetigation -- "Seven matches were discovered, six male and one female. They shared the exact same names, ages and zip codes as the sex offenders on eSORN. The information obtained in the investigation was passed on to MySpace.com and also turned over to local law enforcement. That same month MySpace announced it was partnering with Sentinel Tech Holding Corp. to build a database with information on sex offenders in the United States."
Am i reading this wrong, or has that tree been leaning there since Christmas? If so, it was coming down just as school was letting out yesterday? The Dispatch Company really knows how to throw the weight around. The Watch: now more influential than 76-year-old Krumm Park resident Billy "the school volunteer" Adams. "He called The Watch. We called AEP." They are drunk with power. No wonder Kirk Richards went on to fight crime. I'm similarly inspired.
Finally, the hottest story on my (almost former) beat this summer will likely be:
"My neighbor is tearing down his giant mansion to build a bigger, newer mansion and I will appeal to the board of building standards."
almost as good as last summer's blockbuster:
"The city won't let me tear down my two mansions to build a super mansion complex in its place."
And they think they have problems on the southside.
what is your best joke ever? Something where the inspiration, timing and delivery were spot on. if you give me a minute, i bet i could think of it.
(Right now, I bet Mae is thinking of Seth and a kosher kilbasa.)
I think I peaked in 2004ish, when Seth and I were driving in the dark in a serious downpour. I mean, a ridiculous "should we pull over?" amount of rain. Seth told me to pick the proper soundtrack for the event and/or our impending death, so I complied and turned the bass WAY up. Can you guys which CD I put in?
I guess I just thought all those Web hits were from Megan Pringle, Danny Russell, Claudia Schiffer and Dispatch Reporter Jim Woods. But alas, everyone in the family is reading. This is so great! Until I am excommunicated. or "disowned" (her words -- not mine.)
So to set the record straight, I am not a lesbian, I did not let my godson shoot heroine while I babysat him, and yes, I do, at times, embellish. Believe me. You wouldn't want it any other way.
The different-colored text above are links, people. Click on them.
The good news is that all this blog-chatter (henceforth: blatter) resulted in hearing my mama-in-law say "shit" (RE: Shitstorm 2007) over dinner at least twice during a mother's day gathering in Westerville AND I got to whisper 'menstrual cycle,' to my father-in-law. Apparently, he doesn't want to hear about my mensies until, as Christy says, it has, for some reason, stopped ... happening. Also discussed: Is a placenta a vegetarian-friendly option? We Report. You Decide.
good news, readers. 72 people popped a virtual squat here yesterday. I'm averaging about 60 visitors a day. Perhaps three or five of them were your boss -- or mine!
It's an exciting day for online diaries, as I received confirmation that not one, not two or three, but six of my bosses read this little old rag on a regular* basis. And I haven't even been fired once. Here's to transparency, the ACLU, freedom of the press and the internets -- where any schmo can click a button and become a publisher.
Crack a joke about your promotion coming as a result of sleeping with Paul Wolfowtiz? Remain Unfired! Prompts about menstrual cycles, spontaneous baptisms and slaughtering pigs? Still employed! God Bless America.
I encourage all Bigwigs to comment. Leave your mark. Don't operate in the shadows like some sort of Staff Advisory Recommendation Task Force or something. Speak. It only validates what I'm trying to make here -- some sort of weird self-promoting reasonably-entertaining online watering hole. Plus it's way easier to post here than make individual personal calls to all my buddies from college. And happy hours always lead to drunk-driving, so.
I guess I could text, but emoticons can only convey so much.
Anyway it's so cute to watch all the upper managements in all the world catch on to this weblog thing. There used to be a line, maybe somewhere around 50-55, where bosses were completely unaware. That line has become increasingly blurred. The new trend with lots of my friends in the corporate world is "hey -- you're relatively young. you must know blogging. figure this out for us, would you?" The result? Millions of my friends are 'blogging' for 'work.' Suckers.
The only sad news comes from one boss, who had the audacity to suggest to my other boss that TheTeet was not linkable material for the company's Web site.
"There's a dead pig on there," he says.
Touche.
Apparently unlike other more famous bloggers, I am not weekly suburban community newspaper material. Maybe I'll clean up my act by 2008. I mean June. No controversial posting after June.
*Regular is defined as "one or more times" at theteet.blogspot.com
My dad worked most of my 18-and-under life in the factory as a maintenance guy tinkering with million-dollar plastic injection molds, punching a clock, etc. Then one day some company in Ashland plucked him from the ranks and put a tie on him. Dad has flourished as a white collar dude. He has what, now -- maybe four monthly columns in plastics biz publications. I always assumed I received all the right-brain stuff from my 4.0 stellar-scholar Mama. But I'm starting to wonder if maybe there is a little rhythm and rhyme inherited from the Old Steve Johnson. Anyway, to be sure, I assigned a 400-word creative writing assignment, because I honestly can't always get through those mold maintenance columns. No offense, pops. This is what he gave me RE: Watching his youngest in the hospital for last week's laser treatment. It's sweet. FYI, he calls her Mandika, as in, the east-African tribe. No one is completely sure why.
She let out the first of a few minor whimpers when she spotted the aluminum frame and mounting tools on doctor's table. Too much late-night Web time spent reading halo horror stories the night before had her imagination in overdrive. Mine too.
With his very expensive – and shaking – hands, the doctor shut his eyes and proceeded to tighten the sharply-tipped screws through the skin and into the skull of my wide-eyed and un-morphed beautiful sweet baby girl.
I wanted to close my eyes, too, but one of us had to be watching. With a vise grip on her mother’s hand, my Mandinka warrior took the pain. Many times over. One shot of Novocain with an equestrian-looking needle at the four “points-of-entry,” as he called it, then came the screw tightened through the skin into the skull. Shit man – no way. Knock me out or let me die.
But we were not done yet. It seems the four screws needed to be properly torqued down with – are you kidding me? A freakin' torque wrench. Will he use a radial or cross-over pattern to even out the squeeze? I tried to force myself to ponder. But it was too real. I could not find a happy place.
Slowly he turned each screw with the torque-wrench while we all waited for the damn thing to click, telling us the screws were driven deep enough into her skull to hold her head steady. The halo would be bolted to another intimidating piece of steel framework during the laser blasting. And how was your day?
Then, for good measure, or maybe just to see if he could make me pass out, he re-tightened all four screws to hear the click one more time. Like closing a gas cap.
It was close. Sitting as upright as I could, this surreal scene was most definitely testing the quality and volume of Johnson testosterone. My contorted face caused the observant brain doctor inquire if I was okay, which shifted everyone’s pitiful expression to me. Asshole.
How would it look if dad collapsed into a fetal position at her feet while she sits there and takes the real pain with barely a tear? Those are moments that last forever.
Damn I was proud of her, and just as happy when nine hours later, this Frankinsteinish procedure was finally over. So let the healing begin. And hers too.
What a joy it is to be alive. Congrats to everyone for your blogs and good luck on the journey. It's a trail of tears and self-discovery. A boulevard of broken dreams, if you will.
I have just under five hours to get three stories written. Plenty of time to blog.
I did not attend the Flying Pig in Cincytown. A perfect storm kept me in Bangs on Saturday, beginning first when a butterfly flapped its wings, causing Ashton Kutchter to go back in time, which ultimately led to the Iraq war and news that gasoline supplies nationwide have fallen for a 12th consecutive week, sending the U.S. average to $2.98 a gallon, just eight cents shy of the national record.
In other words, Seth was right when he said "it's dumb to drive 300 miles to pay money to run six." He has a point. Blanket apology to everyone.
But a special congratulations to the Teters/Schultheis who, as I see online, finished with record chip times. You are my hero. I will write folk songs about (the collective) you. First Fridays on the Mount Vernon Square.
Everyone should go. It seems there only are extremes when it comes to Knox County's gene pool. Seth and I developed the "extra ones!" game for times we encounter a family with one too many chromosomes. The mom who yelled at Russell to "get the fuck back here aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh goddammit!" as the youngster attempted to zoom across the street on his bike? "Extra One!" The Gallery owners who tapped Snack Manager Gary for their big opening night (Fig Newtons, Gary? Really?) "Extra one!" It's fun. By playing this game, we establish ourselves as far superior to everyone around us. It's a comfortable place to be.
Saturday there was gardening in the rain. A giant pile of community compost. Sunday, laundry. Some other stuff. We went to a REAL Mennonite Church. There were bonnets. But after the 2.5-hour service, I really haven't the energy to speak any more of it. It was one of those "well...we're going to sing ONE MORE VERSE for those of you out there who thus far have refused to listen to God by coming to the altar to be saved." I almost rededicated my life so that we could go home and get some dinner.
I don't remember sleeping with anyone important in the last two days, but then again, I've never really been good at keeping track.
So, umm. Today I received what I'll classify as a giant promotion (henceforth GP) at work.
This GP will mean no more coming and going as I please. No more late night meetings and no more 'I hate the fun police' jokes. well, not totally. Instead of reporting, I'll be editing the opinion pages of 22 community newspapers. The Teet. Commentary Editor. Don't call me Ishmael. Call me Welcome to Earf.
I'll have to edit all the guest columns, editor columns, letters -- and most terrifyingly, I'll have to write my own op-ed piece every week --- to run in all the papers --- next to my smiling "Hi I'm 14 :-P OMG BFF!!!!!!" mugshot. Circulation: 300,000. Mwahahahahaha.
this is a good place to be, considering our company's recent buyout and the big push toward the internets. (VODCAST OR DIE.) I could realistically be blogging for work by June. Everything is falling into place.
"Really? Are you sure?" is the theme of the day.
Steter is excited to retrieve his wife back from the loving arms of -- everyone else. I am excited to engage the communities, set up local endorsement panels and use "I" in a story for the newspaper. "I" am very nervous, however, about the bad karma I've spun in the last few weeks RE: another prominent Central Ohio female columnist.
I will be taking suggestions for my first column. Things kick off in two weeks. I'm thinking Strippers: They are Not Heroes. OR! Liberal Colleges: Ruining America. I'm Lyndsey Hymen. And that's The Point. Log on to theteet.blogspot.com and tell me what you think.
l-jo: you're supposed to give expecting nothing in return. p-dawg: whoever said that obviously wasn't married. l-jo: actually, it was Jesus. and you're right. he wasn't married.
young doe-eyed lass: "i'd like to meet this dan williamson guy. he looks super-cute. Like a boyfriend on Seventh Heaven or something." l-jo: oh, no. another one bites the dust. ydel: what did i do? l-jo: come here, honey. there is something mama teter has to explain...
***
on the same day as the launch of the new 'redesign,' TOP continues to mislead our youth with a newly-cropped, intensified version of the lie. that and jon stewart.
so help me, if Herb Asher does something to disappoint today....
See Steter? This is totally acceptable behavior and not at all trashy. I don't know what your reluctance stems from.
For everyone else, Mae has complied a flip book of our Weekend of Fun. You're not going to enjoy it as much as my top three listed to the right. But you should be open to trying.
The camera had a remote, if you're wondering. Please note how Mae moves around the room as the rest of us stay pretty stationary. Her only miscalculation was that ultimately, she was snapping photos that would later be used as evidence against her.
Name: Seth
Alias: Teth Seter or Steter.
In Brief: The Steter in his natural habitat. Married to theteet.blogspot.com since August 2004. Often the victim of serious hyperbole. Handy.
Hates: Noise, Dominion Homes, above-the-nipple touching, when people get 'handsy.'
Loves: pies (of any kind), dirt, smoking a pipe after eating pie. also, cows.
Name: Maybel
Alias: The Pig or Boobles.
In Brief: Kentucky-born English Bulldog since February 2006.
Hates: Watermelon. All other kinds of melon. The sound of a new trash bag being opened and sitting in the back seat.
Loves: Treats, walks, Charlie, 'humping it out' and barfing.
Name: Amanda
Alias: The Sister.
In Brief: theteet's younger (but larger) sister. Survived a brain bleed in February 2007.
Hates: minor inconveniences that make her blurt out uncontrollably, brain bleeds.
Loves: UFC, cornhole, texting, fast food and her dog Charlie.
Name: mom and dad.
Alias: the 'rents.
In Brief: Ashland natives and frequent visitors. They taught me how to swear.
Hates: hospitals.
Loves: squirrels and lattes.
Name: Mae
Alias: Klingler or Maddog.
In Brief: Cincinnati resident and former college/Old Towne East roommate. Once wrote a song that made theteet cry.
Hates: Hate.
Loves: Jesus, family, puns, guitars and gardening.
Name: Colleen
Alias: Crankin and Rankin.
In Brief: Akron resident and former college roomie. Arguably more handy than Seth. Nice bosom for hugging.
Hates: all drivers.
Loves: beer, coffee, cigarettes and boys we all find strange.
Name: Talya
Alias: Strader and Sweet T.
In Brief: Chicago resident and former college roomie. served brief stint at theteet's 'accountability partner.' collects monthly fee for keeping quiet.
Hates: people who do not comment on her blog.
Loves: social justice, eggs, her boyfriend monsterbeard and the occupation of barista.
Name: Chris
Alias: Christopher, Monsterbeard and Nadine.
In Brief: Chicago resident and college buddy. Maker of 'We once waited up in the dark with a gun,' and other misadventures.
Hates: people who are looking the other way.
Loves: history, film, his girlfriend Strader and acronyms.
Name: pdawg.
Alias: none needed.
In Brief: Former co-worker who is willing to eat waffles with theteet at 4 in the morning regardless of level of snow emergency.
Hates: anyone under the age of 35.
Loves: Hostess pies, old man rants and golf.
Name: Linsly.
Alias: MERLIN, lin or newbie.
In Brief: Former co-worker who lived with us for a week. I can tell this kid anything. He's like a brother.
Hates: sexual predators.
Loves: zombies, guns, porch chats and movie quotes.
Name: jaydubs.
Alias: jwray and 10bagspacking.
In Brief: Co-worker who taught me everything I know about the world.
Hates: mean jokes, mushrooms, clipping fingernails in the office.
Loves: crafts, her gay-together but also betrothed person Kyle, Columbus Bride Magazine, veggie-friendliness and basil.
Name: jessica.
Alias: jessm.
In Brief: College buddy with the amazing handshake. I believe she might be back from Alaska and living in Hudson now.
Hates: poverty.
Loves: Jesus, jazz, geography and hilarious t-shirts.
Name: brittiny.
Alias: Brit-Brat, experimental dater or The Dunlap.
In Brief: Former co-worker (notice a theme here?) who started with me at SNP on the same day. Former Sorority president taught me the ropes of being a lady. her wisdom did not take.
Hates: visible pany line.
Loves: cocktails, shoes, 'the blue box' and her boyfriend the Lizard.
Name: garth and jen.
Alias: not safe around house plants and the real spider-man and/or HSnothingswronghere.
In Brief: Co-worker couple who proved themselves fun at work and on the farm. Periodically forced to kiss in gas station parking lots.
Hates: local broadcast news reporters.
Loves: zombies, movie quotes, Indianapolis and lin rice.
Name: Angie.
Alias: captain cool.
In Brief: Former co-worker who stole my heart. She is the only thing I've ever lost to the Youngstown Vindicator.
Hates: joe and misogynists.
Loves: celebrity gossip, hilarious captions, biking/hiking, her boyfriend Jef, her mom and Columbus.
Name: Melville.
Alias: welcome to earf or bad town.
In Brief: Former co-worker who let me inherit his seat at SNP. For a while, he was the only one who would talk Reynoldsburg politics with me.
Hates: fleas, eminent domain and people who flip the bird.
Loves: his evil cat, running, opinions, beer and Tom Waits.
Name: The Gerish.
Alias: The Gerish.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, you'll see a tousle of black hair breeze by over the cubicle wall.
Hates: Things that aren't crackers.
Loves: crackers.
Name: Dennis.
Alias: secret reading.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, he'll walk over and talk to you. But he probably won't. Once took my sister-in-law to Homecoming.
Hates: The damn kids who walk in his yard.
Loves: Corgis, Cedar Point and Rachael. But not the one you're thinking of.
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