Help me, help me, helpasdkjasdfjsdf….

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Somebody please help me! “Help me, help me, help me, help me” (Landon’s newest phrase), I beg you! I am cramming in Continuing Education hours by April 30th on-line. Two of the 20 hours I have to acquire have to do with ethics. Hoooooooonk-shooooooooo, zzzzzzzzzzzzzz… Oh! Goodness me! I flat fell asleep talking about it. Anyway, I am listening to this lady drone on about ethics and she really LOVES the /s/. She keeps saying “ressssssssssssourcSHessssss”, “competenssssssssssssss”, “ethicssssss”, “dessssssssisions”, “evidenssssssssssss”, “thissssssss”, “servisssssssseSHes”, “grassssssssssssp”, “ssssscopesssss”, “clientsssssss” and “studiesssssss”. I was trying to spell those somewhat phonetically, so get off your high horse about the misspelled words. She also loves the word “folksssssss”. She is a big fan of an extra “sh” here and there. She says “yewsh” for “use” and “yearsh” for “years”. I can hardly take it. It’s like someone clawing the chalkboard. Ahhhh!!! Somebody trap that snake & toss it in the woods! I’d say cut it in half but I’d feel so violent. At least I am getting a good giggle (in between the terrible fits of holding my ears and singing “LALALALALALALALA” as loud as I can) from the typical presentation style. I presented a few times when working at MD Anderson and attended multiple conferences. Everyone approaches the podium after a flowery & generous speech from the moderator who is “absolutely DEEEElighted” to have that particular speaker grace the ballroom at the Ramada Inn, adjusts their lapel mic, tells everyone how “thrilled” she is to be there talking on a subject “near & dear to [her] heart” and further tries to break the ice with a silly little cartoon (usually Calvin & Hobbs). Please don’t be misled. I’m not saying that little formula isn’t dead-on and won’t lead you straight to the top. I’m just saying…I like to giggle about it.

Okay, now let’s get down to business. People, it’s been brought to my attention several times (read: hundreds…okay, maybe more like 10-12) that people are stunned that the nonsense presented time and again in this blog was written by me. Look, people, I have not changed. That picture to the left proves I have always loved a good laugh. Would you just take a look at that wide smile?? I think the deal is that I am now revealing my insanity to more people. Writing has a way of doing that…at least mine does. It’s not often that I enter a “Pampered Chef” party & say, “Hey now, you stop riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight there with your presentation about that thar apple slicer and listen to what’s running through this head uh mine”. I am so THANKFUL that no one knows what’s actually going on in my head. I know we all can relate with that. I also realize that my ramblings may just lose some of you. If you feel that you are lost, just stand in one spot, yell loudly, one of my attendants will find you & help get you to where you really want to be…

When it comes to parties like “Pampered Chef” for me what’s running through my head is usually just “Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? I like snacks. I like snacks. I like snacks. Snacks are good. Snacks are good. Snacks are good. Snacks are crack. Snacks are crack. Snacks are crack. I’m having a snack attack, snack attack, snack attack, snaaaacccck uuuutakj;lekjr;aslkjdfasjf..”. It’s at this point that “my” voice turns robotic, the eyes pop out and bounce up & down on springs and smoke pours out of my ears. I have been discovered. Everyone now knows that I sent my clone robot to the “Pampered Chef” party so that I could go chill at Barnes & Noble. (I know “it” girls would pick a spa, but I like the smell of books. I just pick an aisle, lean my nose against a stack of books and breathe in deep.) And, yes, my robot can eat food. Can’t yours?? What also gave me away is that they didn’t remember me being Chinese. The rumor had been going around that I might’ve been sending a robot to these shindigs. One time my robot apparently kept saying “Where are the votive candles? Where are the votive candles?” over and over, which girls in the neighborhood just found plain odd. She finally stopped when someone accidently bumped into her & set that hiccup in her wiring right again. I had set her budget for that party to $100 and the robot knew that the votive candles were surely the only thing in that price range. Turns out that robot bought 50 of those stinkin’ squatty candles. Anyway, it is SO tricky trying to pulling this clone robot bit off! I first have to climb up into the attic, get my clone robot without my husband or kids seeing (they’d FREAK OUT!), flatten her down into the back seat so no one sees me & starts spreading the rumor that I have a twin (that used to happen when I would hang out with Lady Gaga due to our incredible likeness. It was a MESS of a story to have to clear up…), drive to the pretty house with the cheerful hostess & push the clone robot out. I then have to high-tail it to Barnes & Noble to get a fix of my two favorite smells: books & coffee. I am going to shove those springy eyes back into her sockets soon & then program her to clean this house up. Going to shopping parties is just a fraction of the tricks that clone-bot has up her sleeve!

Pssst…you are going to have yell a liiiiiiittle bit louder if you want my attendant to hear you. His hearing is a bit like mine. There you go, there you go… Good one! He’s coming. Hold your horses.

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