I got a note from my hair

Dear Rachel,

I hate you.

Love,
Your Hair

Now the 9th Funniest Blog on the World Wide Web

Well, that was fun!

The contest is officially over and the last time I checked before they took the counts down I was in 9th place. Totally respectable, in this case. In another case I was in a group that placed 9th in a junior high writing contest, but there were only 10 teams.

Because of the top 10 finish, as promised, I will host an ice cream social. Details to follow. But there will be ice cream and cones, because ice cream is just plain better in cones. Do not deny this! Isn't the very idea of an ice cream social wonderful? It's so old-timey. Like there should be men with waxed mustaches riding around on penny-farthing bicycles, and barber shop quartets singing In the Good Old Summertime, and ladies pushing prams, and local youths lighting firecrackers. None of these things will actually be at our ice cream social unless some of you start growing mustaches now. This is merely a suggestion. But I can promise you that if you show up with an elaborate mustache I will give you an extra scoop of ice cream.

Have I mentioned how nice I think all of you are? Because it's true. It was a very silly contest and yet you all came through like champs and I feel truly lucky to know such lovely people. Let's be friends forever!

Things I haven't missed about Gary the CPA

Gary the CPA is in the office today. He just rents out a room in our suite for his private practice but has a day job so I haven't seen him for months. But he took today off so he could watch the Michael Jackson memorial but once it was over he didn't want to be sad and alone at home so he came in to sit in his office and watch news coverage about Michael Jackson on his computer.

Here are a couple of things I haven't missed about him:

1.) His chattering. He loooooves to gab. He loves to come out and tell me all about the deals he has found and all about his famous relatives and all about the movies he has seen recently and how come I don't go to the movies every weekend, and would I like a Pepsi because he got them on sale and he has stocked the fridge with them, and did I know that his daughter is a CPA, an actual licensed CPA, can you believe that, and did I watch the Michael Jackson memorial, and did I know that he knows a guy who knows a guy who knows Michael Jackson's accountant. Because he does and he'll tell you all about it.

2.) He sucks his teeth for about an hour after he eats anything. I'm sure that I've mentioned that I'm kind of sensitive to mouth noises. Loud chewing (with the mouth open or closed), chomping teeth, that pasty dry mouth sound, rattling mouth breathing, phlegmy voices, they all drive me NUTS. I had to turn off NPR yesterday because the guy doing a piece on Robert McNamara sounded too jowly. So listening to Gary suck the food out of his teeth for an hour makes me want to throw my stapler at his head. Once he is done with the teeth-sucking he will stand at his window for 15 minutes and floss. I suppose this is better, if you don't mind the sound of floss snapping.

Danke Schoen

You will NOT BELIEVE where I am going next week!

Cynde and I are going to San Manuel Indian Casino to see Wayne Newton!

Are you dying? Because I'm dying. I can't stop giggling over it. It's only the funniest thing that has ever happened to me.

And I owe it all to my super awesome sisters. Katie saw it advertised at the newspaper and got on the phone with the gals and got me some tickets for an early birthday present. And then she called Cynde up and asked her to come out for the occasion. And then on Saturday, as I was chopping pineapple, the entire fam had suddenly gathered around me and presented me with two tickets and two pairs of very disturbing/amazing bedazzled granny panties to throw at him, should the mood strike, which, I'm sure it will.

They apologized for it not being in Vegas but I'm pretty sure that seeing him at an Indian casino may be even funnier.

I mentioned that my nephews showing up at my door step was the best surprise ever. This is a close second.

Thanks ladies! Knecht Girls Rock!

(Speaking of which, today is the last day for voting. (Has this lasted 18 years or what?) Vote early and often. Have I mentioned that I think you're wonderful?)

You can get enough of these lists.

So, it looks like this has turned into my Week of Lists. You know you love it:

1.) Chiquita left for a meeting and on her way out she said, "I want you to come up with a funny, witty email to send to our clients for the 4th of July." And then I started to panic because I'm no good at on-the-spot wit. I can think of a million funny things to say on my own time but when someone asks for just one I turn into Stonehenge. I'm the Stonehenge of wit. But even that's a bad metaphor because Stonehenge is funny sometimes thanks to the druids. Druid hangouts = funny.

(Addendum: I showed Chiquita what I had written and she made me change the line "Eating our weight in corn on the cob" to "Eating our way to Heavenly Bliss". Hello!? Corn on the cob is way funnier than heavenly bliss. This is another reason why I panic when I have to be funny. What if the person hearing the joke doesn't get the joke?)

2.) For the last few months our freeways have been draped in lap-band billboards. (Readers in So. Cal. - testify!) Because they're EVERYWHERE. I've seen them on every freeway in every county. And they're usually clustered. So you see one and then another and then another, all within a quarter of a mile on both sides of the freeway. What it's basically saying is, "People of the Greater Los Angeles Area: You're fat!"

3.) The owner of the drive-thru dairy down the street from my office has put a ball in a sock and attached it to a string that is hanging from the rafter of the car port. He spends his down time hitting it with a cricket bat. It makes me want to pull in and get a Super Fudge Pop and have him explain the game to me.

4.) The chicken in my chicken quesadilla tasted a few days old. And there was a bone attached to it. I'm not making this up. So I would like to ask the good people of Claremont: Why do you love Patty's so much? You rave like loons about it, and yet I've always been underwhelmed.

Thoughts I had at the baseball game

Camille and I went to the Dodger game last night. We lost 3-0 and it lasted about 2 hours so it was a very uneventful game. I had a lot of time to think. Here are some highlights.

1.) I wish I knew how to whistle really loudly. I mean, really loud. The kind that you get every one's attention with.

2.) Fancy seats are not nearly as fun as not-so-fancy seats. We usually sit up in the loge with the regulars but last night we had tickets behind the visitor's dugout and while it was fun to be so close to first base, close enough to see the faces of every single Dodger get out there (Knights of Columbus! It was like the Rockies had tractor beams in their gloves), the people around us were duds. No one cheered, no one shouted, no one stood up when it was time to rally, no one sang along to "Don't Stop Believing". They all just sat there chatting with each other. It was bizarre. And I felt under-dressed. I didn't actually think that was possible at a baseball game.

3.) How come I've never had an ice cream cone at a ball game before?

4.) How come no one wears underwear anymore? How do I know this? Because pants sag when you sit, and when you stand up, say to get some nachos or to sing Take Me Out to the Ballgame, they're generally still in that sagging position and you have to hoist them up a bit. So when you're not wearing any undies and your pants are in the sagging position you show the unsuspecting person behind you a whole lot of butt. More than any person should ever have to see. Camille and I both gasped and averted our eyes when the man in front of us stood up. And then again when he sat down. Same with a woman a few rows ahead. I may have to send out a Royal Decree that if you're going commando you have to wear a belt.

5.) World Peace could be brokered if all the leaders of the nations got together and watched fireworks on the Dodger Stadium outfield. It's kind of magical out there.

Things that smell

1.) The summer heat is upon us and the dojo doesn't have air conditioning. This has only enhanced the smell of sweat, feet and 10-year-old-boy.

2.) The upstairs bathroom in our office building overflowed yesterday and soaked through the walls of the Verizon office downstairs.

If given a choice, I would go with the dojo.

Round-Up

1.) Have you read the comments on my last post? And if so, are you totally amazed at how many people have fallen out of moving cars? Were car door latches made of slightly cooked spaghetti noodles back then? I can tell you right now that my mom is feeling an enormous sense of relief that she was not the only parent that this happened to.

Amanda mentioned that, thanks to her older brother, she has fallen out of a moving car twice. The theory occasionally comes up that I may have had something to do with Gina falling out of the car, but I would like to say that it is a vicious, vicious lie. I was in the back seat AND I was not very good at opening car doors back in the day. This is evidenced by another Knecht Family Legend of the time when I was about 5 and we all came home late one night and I was asleep in the back of the car and my parents, having a lot of kids to file in, didn't realize that I wasn't in the mix and I was left there. I eventually woke up and thought it was extremely new and exciting that I was alone in the dark car. I tried to open the door to get out but couldn't and so I rolled down the window and climbed out and then found the front door locked so I had to knock to get in. My parents were slightly shocked to find me standing there. I love that story. And I love that it shows that I couldn't possibly have mastered the door handle to shove Gina out.

2.) There is one week left for voting. They caught on to you sneaky ones and my votes plummeted! I am now in 7th place. But since I still really want an ice cream social, I'm going to lower my standards and say we'll have one if I'm in the top 10.

3.) You should feel very fortunate that my nephews do not live around here. Because I would totally turn into one of those bloggers who only writes about all their cute antics. It would be insufferable and you would hate me. But I would not be able to stop myself because they are adorable and hilarious. For example: Stacy taught Ben the words and dance moves to Damaged by Danity Kane.

Addendum to #2: I just discovered that there is a major Twilight fan in the running. Let's hope her followers don't find this.

Miracle Cures

We all have our own medical remedies. Things we swear by when the ague hits. Like, for instance, I firmly believe in the medicinal powers of 7-Up. I get this from my Grandma Knecht. She swore by it. So much so that once when Gina fell out of a moving car (this was before the days of mandatory seat belts and, apparently, car doors that stayed shut) she rushed over with a 2-liter bottle of it.*

And how can we forget the beloved Doc, who, among other things, told me to put raw bacon on my chest when I had a cough and to take 21 allergy pills a day when I had the sniffles. She was a gem.

Well, I have discovered Chiquita's miracle cure. I have a bit of a cold but I came into work yesterday because it's not that bad and Chiquita has a little cold as well, but by about 3pm I was fading and she could see this and told me to go home. (This was about 30 minutes after she got a phone call from her son saying that Michael Jackson was dead but it was before any official announcement was made and she yelled out of her office, "Rachel! We're going to stop what we're doing and get to the bottom of this rumor!") As I was cleaning my desk up for the night she came out of her office with an aerosol can of what I assumed was Lysol and said, "I'm going to take care of these germs so we don't keep getting sick," and then she went to town. By the time I made it to the door the office was socked in. I could make out through the haze that Chiquita had placed the can on the bookcase. So this morning I walked by it and noticed that it wasn't Lysol. It was a can of Glade Jasmine and White Rose Air Freshener. I thought about telling her that unless the stuff killed germs by asphyxiation, it wasn't going to be that productive. But it tickles me so much that she does it that I think I'm going to keep quiet.

*This happened maybe 30 years ago and some of my siblings weren't even born yet but the story is LEGEND. Mostly because along with the 7-Up she also brought a hand mirror for Gina to check out the wounds on her face. This cracks my family up. Anytime anyone is injured someone will inevitably say, "Would you like me to get you some 7-Up and a mirror?" And then we laugh like loons.

Surprise!

Last night I was cooking dinner (Macaroni and Cheese. True story: I've never made mac & cheese before. I'm talking about the real stuff. The Kraft stuff and I are pretty tight considering all the time I spent with it in college. But I went for the real stuff. It was delicious. You should definitely add bacon.) and there was a knock at the door. There are several things that run through my head when I hear a knock. 1.) Who could it be? 2.) Probably a neighbor. 3.) Do I have stuff on my face? 4.) What if it's a sales man? I hate sales men. 5.) What if it's a ruffian? Would I look crazy if I come to the door with a knife and it's not a ruffian?

Turns out I didn't need the knife because when I opened the door I found my little nephew Ben standing there saying, "Hi Rachel," like he stops by every day.

And then my face erupted into a geyser of tears. I was the Old Faithful of crying.

Because there was a NEPHEW AT MY DOOR!!!! Who lives in Utah and wasn't suppose to be in California for another month.

And bonus tears, walking up the steps was my sister-in-law Stacy with Thomas, the other Blessed Nephew, who must have gone through some kind of time warp because he's like 18 years old now.

It was the greatest surprise of my life. Hands down. No contest. The best.

Have a look:

Ben seeing if he can fit in a basket

Tom trying to swallow a ping pong ball

It was like Christmas and my birthday and a Dodger game and the fair and a boat ride all rolled up. If there had been rocky road ice cream I would have died.