Aaaaaand That's a Wrap ... Friday Funnies

Another week has marched away, which means we are one week closer to The End. Which is totally depressing. So let us not think about wasted moments, ill-spent seconds, bad decisions in cupcakes. Instead, let's giggle.

This week's funnies that caught me by the giggle gizzard:

Convos with My 2-Year-Old has started season 2!!!

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This one's pretty true, although some of my friends are terrible spellers (ahem, Husband, ahem) and I haven't disowned them yet:

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I went to Walmart last night (don't judge--I'm not proud, but in a Canadian economy where we're paying nearly $6 a gallon for gas, I gotta do what I gotta do). In the local WallyWorld, we have a medical clinic. I've only had the unfortunate occasion to go there once--my daughter works at a bear-building store where grabby children with pink-eye-infected fingers often show up, so Pretty Princess picked up the pinking of the eye. We had to get it treated. On a Sunday. WallyWorld's esteemed medical clinic was the only joint in town that hadn't met its "quota" for the day (I'm totally serious). HENCE we went there. And were "greeted" by the doctor's warring teenage daughters who were also doubling as his front-office staff. It was worrisome.

So imagine my surprise last night when I went to Walmart, only because it was close to the new, pleasantly vacant Starbucks and we were on our monthly "date night" where we spend $11 on coffee and talk about our children away from the house so they can't hear us, and we saw THIS SIGN on the medical clinic window:

Yes, ladies, you can now get your Pap smears at Walmart. That's what I call one-stop shopping. "ROLLBACK ON PAP SMEARS! $19.88!"

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These next things aren't necessarily funny. Mostly just awesome.

I would so fly on this plane:

Why, yes, Thorin Oakenshield, I am interested in talking to you about a sword.

In case you need more Richard Armitage, here (do NOT tell Mark Strong I posted this picture--jealousy is so ugly):

Thanks, Anglophile Channel, for the pho-to.

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AND DID YOU HEAR ABOUT PAKISTAN'S NEW ISLAND? They had a ginormous earthquake this week (7.7 reportedly), and an island PLOPPED to the surface. Wondering how long before someone calls dibs. Full article here on io9 (amazing site, BTW):

In case you missed it, they've added a red circle to draw your attention appropriately.

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Someone floated these in the FB feed, and I WANTS THEM, PRECIOUS. Private message me and I'll send you my address. Thanks, Literary Gift Company!

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Lastly, the rain has arrived in British Columbia. We had a good run. I ordered some new boots. It is time to succumb and tuck in for the Long Dark. Which is fine. Sun just makes me feel guilty that my garden looks like zombies nap in it.

Xs and Os, lovelies ...

With Respect to the Day of My Hallowed Birth

When it's your birthday, I hope someone special does something like THIS for you. Because for this year's Big Day of Marking How Bloody Old I'm Getting, the amazing humanoids in my house woke me with hot coffee and PRESENTS.

Here we go.

GIVE US THE CUPCAKE.

This card also informs me that I am the "greatest person in the universe as a hero and a mom." Just so you know. You can stop trying so hard now. Go ahead. Be a slacker. The role of #1 Human has clearly been filled.

The baby came into me the other day, feeling creatively vexed about what to do for my birthday, so I gave him this:

What I call a seed list. A few words to get the ideas flowing. THIS was the result:

You may have to click it to see it better. Does that work?

If you can't see it, he's incorporated everything from the list into this comic except the otter, plus he added scissors and a piece of paper to complete the rock's storyline. The magical jellybeans have LEGS. Omigod. These kids? MAGICAL MAGIC.

Pretty Princess, not to be outdone by her pesky little brothers, presented a Sephora gift card, which is quite decadent for my drug-store-makeup-department palate, but I am twitterpated to go spend $75 on a powder compact. BRING IT. I will be very fancy soon. Oh, and allegedly, there will be sushi at some point today. She also did a lovely collage of wonderful moments from my momentous life, but it's kinda depressing because I was really cute and skinny, like, 10 years ago. Has anyone seen my collarbones?

My darling writer friend/walking buddy/shoulder to cry on knocked on the door with FRESH STILL-WARM-FROM-THE-OVEN CAKE. Seriously? I KNOW! And when she called to see if I'd tried it yet, I was all like, no it's morning I can't eat cake, and she was all like, yes you can it's your birthday you can eat morning cake, SO I DID. And it was delicious, yo. Only I forgot to take a picture and now there's a big gaping hole in the cake where my face might have gnawed out a sizable chunk.

And, while whining the other day about the age I have achieved this year, my super-big-brained, Mental-Floss-writing, Editorial Colleague of Genius and Doom reminded me that I am That Number, the one that is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Here's proof:

Seriously. Google the number 42, and see what comes up. Douglas Adams, we bow. (And thanks, Adrienne. I'm sorry I'm so late for the party.)

September the 19th is also shared by famed writer William Golding (Lord of the Flies), the original Batman (Adam West), Hermione Granger (!!!), James Lipton, Jeremy Irons, Jimmy Fallon, supermodel Twiggy, Canadian heartthrob Kevin Zegers, actor David McCallum, musicians Tegan and Sara, and a bazillion other people.

SO, happy birthday to all my birthday twins, ESPECIALLY my lovely London Sarah across the pond. THIS is what my Sarah gave me:

AND THIS:

 

Because no post on Planet Jenn would be complete without Mark Strong and a cat picture. (Mr. Strong, I am not a stalker. I swear. Well, maybe a little stalker. Tiny stalker. Only not so tiny because I am eating cake in the morning. I PROMISE NOT TO BOIL YOUR RABBITS.)

I mentioned cats. Hence, I give you Naughty Nuit, just because I'm feeling generous:

 

And to close out the week, because tomorrow I have children home from school and thus no thoughts will be strung together without 147.5 interruptions, I give you this. 

GO AND READ AND PEE FROM LAUGHING. 

Here--first pull on this lovely Depends undergarment--I got a whole box for my birthday.

Xs and Os, lovelies ...

Proof that I do yardwork.

New School Year Challenge: Best Teacher Notes EVER

New school year, new teacher. One among this year's lot has requested a note from parents, "in a million words or fewer," to tell her about our little darlings.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. (Someone should warn her. About the notes I write. And that I will likely blog about it because I laugh the loudest at myself. Usually because I am alone and no one is here to laugh at/with me. The cat does spend a lot of time staring nervously in my direction, however ...)

This was the opening act for the note sent to the 4th grade teacher this day. Because I'm nothing if not diligent about doing my homework (with a few modifications to make it appropriate for this viewing audience).

Dear New Lovely Teacher:

Thank you for taking on the job of educating the next generation. My youngest child is delightful in many ways, but these quick facts may help you better understand your position in his life.
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• KG’s hands are registered lethal weapons in the following provinces and states: British Columbia, Oregon, California, Arkansas, Maine, Nova Scotia, Yukon, and Newfoundland and Labrador.

• KG’s curls are registered and insured by Lloyd’s of London for an undisclosed multimillion-dollar policy.

• KG was the first child in Canada to be conceived in a lab with a compilation of plutonium and Unobtainium (from the planet Pandora).

• KG’s number-one hit single, Alex the Seal, ranked #3 on the New Zealand billboard charts on his 7^th birthday.

• KG invented the Internet.

• When KG was born, he was humming Rachmaninov’s 3^rd Symphony, Opus 30, in D Minor. The doctor was dumbfounded.

• KG speaks fluent Shakespeare and is a shareholder of the (new) Globe Theatre in London.

• KG was an uncredited writer on the Academy Award-winning film Argo, alongside Ben Affleck and Grant Heslov (producer). They would meet up for writing sessions at Jerry’s Deli in Studio City, California, after playdates. KG never ate the pickles.

Poor teacher. She didn't know she signed up for this when she signed up for my kid.

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So, you're shaking your head right now, wondering if I am really this obnoxious all the time. (Pretty much.) And you're wondering if maybe you should Google the school's address so you can send flowers to this new teacher because she's going to be stuck with me all year. HEY. IT'S NOT THAT BAD. I'm just trying to inject some levity into the "Please excuse Johnny for his tardiness this morning." Really, Johnny's mom? That's the best you could do? Sorry, but you suck at being awesome.

So here is my challenge to YOU: When you write notes to your kid's/kids' teacher(s),  

UP THE ANTE. 

Make 'em giggle. Make 'em smile. They are not in education because of the cool cash. We all know that.

Here are a few samples to get you going (these are examples from last year's crop):

For tardiness:

Please forgive ___________’s tardy today. I, the mom, overslept both of my alarms because I have issues with mornings, and today, the morning won. My humblest apologies. Please don’t send my beautiful child to the dungeon with the dragons and spiders. Reserve such punishment for me. (Omigod, I hate spiders. Maybe no spiders?)

For absence: 

Dear Teacher: Please forgive ___________'s absence yesterday. We were chasing unicorns to collect tears for our time machine, and we lost track of the moon. Then we stopped at Subway and met a Leprechaun, and he just had to tell us about his pot of gold and the politics going on within his little world. And then the sandwich artist gave us peppers on our sandwiches! What a strange, sad little sandwich artist.

For a P.E. excuse:

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Please excuse __________________ from P.E. today. He’s been out sick X days this week, and if he runs around and gets all crazy during physical education class, he will start to cough and that could lead to more disgusting things (vomit). Perhaps send him to the library or if the school has a meditation room, send him there. (Meditation is good for us. That’s what my therapist says.)

For any generic reason you need to apologize to the teacher:

Please excuse ____________'s really big screw-up. [INSERT PROBLEM YOU SEEK FORGIVENESS FOR HERE.] You see, it's a long story. First, my darling child was born 11 days late, and things progressed from there in terms of chronic tardiness. When we sat down to do this assignment, we really did think that Wikipedia was a reliable news source. Who knew that Tesla was not the name of the International Space Station but rather a famous rodeo clown? Seriously! If it's any consolation, we do have a cousin who is a NASA astronaut and he totally piloted the Space Shuttle in 2010 (Google him--his name is James "Mash" Dutton*). Given this information, it is obvious that Super Amazing Genius runs in the family, and if we could therefore have a few more days to finish this assignment properly, we can prove to you that _____________ is capable of greatness.

(*This is completely true. Astronaut Dutton is my cousin. I haven't seen him since before puberty, but still ... cousins.)

I am not even bullshitting you. Hey, Cuz ... Is it wrong to admit here that when I was three, I was totally in love with this lad and his brother? I was. Which is creepy. Because we're related. But I was three. And clearly I had excellent taste. Even if it was warped and weird because we were cousins. By blood.

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The gauntlet has been thrown down. What can you do to brighten your child's teacher's day and/or torment the hell out of them and make them wish you would move out of county? Remember, BE NICE. No one likes an ass****. POST your teacher notes in the COMMENTS section below. There might be prizes involved. Off the record, of course.

Xs and Os ... and HAPPY NEW SCHOOL YEAR!

Stereotypical apple. For school.