Life Is Just Like that Sometimes

So, I've been hoping that something hilarious would happen to blog about.  Usually, I get some kind of funny inspiration every few days so that I can keep this blog alive.

But, nothing's happening.  Everyone around me has been dry, dry, dry.

Or, maybe that's me, since I am studying for an exam.  It could be that I am the one who is dull, since my mind is wading up to its hips in terms like "operant conditioning" and "cognitive behavioral therapy."  Boring has become my business.

You would think that at least my children would say funny things.

Well, there was the little boy who told me that when he is grown up enough to read the newspaper, he's going to read it in this order: funnies, sports, market news (by which he means food ads), weather report, then LDS news.  That's sort of cute and funny, but not exactly hilarious.

There was the child who cut his bangs, thinking no one would notice.  When Dad caught him, he said I had trimmed them.  When I caught him, later that same day, he stood stunned in the kitchen for a few minutes, then admitted he had done it.  At least he didn't tell me Dad had done it.  Or another lie.

There was the child whose big sister called me to report that she was being bossy to the little kids and that, when corrected, had flown at her.  When I got home to talk to this child, she said somebody had to help her little brothers while the teenaged baby-sitter just lay on her bed listening to her radio.  "She's not a good enough baby-sitter, so you appointed yourself?" I asked.

"She MADE me help him with his homework.  She told me to MAKE SURE it got done."  There was some weeping involved at this point.  When I asked big sister about it, all of that turned out not to be true.

Actually, I guess I don't think that my kids becoming good liars is very amusing, so I still don't really have any material to use for my blog.

Let's see.  There were the three names my husband brought home from work: Riunite, Tiawanna, and Spechel.  I wrote a silly names post before, which was widely read, but I doubt three more names is going to hit the jackpot, no matter how "spechel" they are.

There were some stupid people I ran into at the gym.  I try not to make fun of stupid people, because there but for the grace of God go I, but this pair was remarkably dim.

Okay, I know.  Once I start a story, I have to finish it, right?  

Okay.  I was in the bathroom when someone yanked on the door handle.  It was locked, of course.  Well, that person kept yanking and yanking on the handle on and on and on.

It's a good thing I was washing my hands already and not trying to perform.

"Don't they usually leave this open!?" someone shouted in frustration.

I opened the door.

Two guys stood there.  Two guys.  Not one of them thought to say to his buddy, "Hey--maybe someone's in there."  I looked each of them in the eye.  There was a marked absence of light in each set of eyes, so I didn't say anything.  If a woman coming out of the bathroom didn't teach them why the door was locked, there's nothing I could say that would.

There's a woman at the gym who might not be stupid, but her laugh is.  She's friends with the perfect ten that I get dressed with each morning.  That is, the perfect ten gets dressed out in the open.  I put my clothes on while still in the shower.  I wouldn't want her to get self-conscious or anything.  Then, we fix our hair and makeup side by side while I stifle myself from singing that old thirties' song, "Keep young and beautiful, if you want to be loved!"

Anyway, this girl with the stupid laugh has sometimes been in the locker room with her perfect ten friend, perched up on the counter talking about everything under the sun that is shallow and mean-spirited.  Okay, I know I need an example to back that up.  Easy: how she was going to sue a salon that gave her a free sample because it she got a pimple afterward.

Anyway, when this girl isn't talking, she's giggling.  In.  Cess.  Ant.  Ly.  If she's in the building, you know it.  You can hear her woody woodpecker giggle from anywhere in that cavernous warehouse of a gym. 

So, as I said.  I really haven't got anything much to write about tonight.  I'm just digging up the dregs at the bottom of the well of my life that is usually full of interesting things.  As you can see, there's really nothing much there.  Which reminds me of when I have had to show my children that the ice cream carton is truly empty.

You know, sometimes my best friend and I have loads of interesting things to say to each other after a weekend--or even an evening--apart.  And sometimes, we just say totally mundane things to each other because that's all we've got.  Life is just like that, I guess. But we still talk just as much because we're friends and we check in with each other like that.

So, please bear with me while I get through this.  I may or may not have much to say.

Unless you want to hear about stratified sampling or disengagement theory.