Well, apparently.  I got an email informing me of the fact this morning.

The Irish Lottery
11 G Lower Dorset Street
Northern Ireland.
                      
CONGRATULATIONS!!!

You have won £800,000.00 in the Irish Lottery Online Sweepstakes.

Your winning Numbers are;
Winning Num:  07, 08, 09, 18, 21, 27, Bonus 19
Batch Num: Batch: R3/A312-59
Reference Num: Ref: LSUK/2031/8161/05

You are to contact the fudiciary agent
with the information below
as soon as you receive this
notification.

Mr. Defoe Smith (Fudiciary Agent)
Email:claimdepts@live.com

For verification please provide your:

1. Full Names
2. Address (Country)
3. Age
4. Occupation
5. Telephone

and your above Batch and reference Number when responding.

Thank you and congratulations.

Thomas Stinson, Online Coordinator
Fudiciary & Notification Department
Lottery Commission of Ireland.

Now, mind you, I’ve never actually been to Ireland, much less played the lottery there, so I’m concerned that maybe they have the wrong person.  Oh, no, wait, it’s the online Irish lottery.  Well, of course.  Now I remember.  Yeah.  I so played that.  I’ll send my information right away. ’Cause I’m that gullible. 

 

These are shamelessly pulled from an email TBear sent me yesterday.  Obviously I have no way to verify that these were, in fact, actual answers given by students on exams… but they cracked me up:

[Sorry I can't get them to show bigger - you'll have to click on them.  Once again I display my shameful WordPress illiteracy.  They're nice and readable on my Xanga blog, though...]

Now the emails are promising “Attractive Viagra only $ 1″.

Well, that makes all the difference.  I’m totally jumping on that deal.

Oh, the humanity!  So, we’re staying at my parents’ house while they’re on vacation, to take care of the dogs and horses and cat and bird and fish (come see the zoo!  reasonable admission prices!).  As I set the alarm clock, what do you think I saw on my mom’s nightstand? 

I almost can’t say it.

This is my MOM we’re talking about.  *shudder*  TBear took one look when I handed it to him and threw it back at me, covering his eyes and yelling in denial.

“Zestra Feminine Arousal Fluid”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is there any way to erase this from my brain?  This is not something I want to associate with my parents.  Ever.

 

This is when it’s nice to have a stealth blog.  I can’t even post this on my Xanga blog, because my mom reads my Xanga blog.

Yeah.  I know.  I couldn’t even come up with a good title.

We’re adding on to our house – IF the house appraises for enough to get the bank loan (and given the housing market these days, that is by no means a given, since so much of appraising relies on finding comparable home sales and appraisers across the nation are bemoaning the fact that nothing is selling).  Anyway.  So, before I even submit all our final signed-in-blood loan documents Friday morning I get a call from the appraiser – “Is Monday good for you?  How about around 10:00 Monday morning?”

Oh, sure.  Yeah.  Monday’s fine.  Great.  Peachy. 

Have you ever looked at your house through the eyes of an appraiser?  You suddenly notice all the clutter and accumulated crap that your eyes have passed over unseeingly for the last three years.  You realize that if you want your house to appear light and bright and airy and larger-than-maybe-it-really-is-since-it’s-not-a-very-big-house, you’d darn well better make sure there’s as much open space as possible.  Sure, you know there’s nowhere to put anything and your bread and crackers and cereal are in the microwave because you’re out of cabinet space and you have to store your laundry detergent against the dining room wall because there’s no closet near the washer, but you don’t really want to highlight things like that to the appraiser, so you clean.

I kid you not, our entire weekend (except the tiny bit of Saturday afternoon that we spent celebrating my grandmother’s 90th birthday – go, Grandma!) was spent working on the house.  It hasn’t been cleaned like this since we built it three years ago.  TBear even vacuumed the baseboards and ceilings and scrubbed the stair risers on his hands and knees (my husband is such a treasure).

Not that we’re pigs or anything, but I am working and going to grad school at the moment and TBear is working full-time and teaching a math class two evenings a week as an adjunct professor and teaching kung fu to a bunch of screaming 5-12 year olds two nights a week, so maybe we don’t stay on top of the cleaning quite like we could.  Keep in mind that the following pictures are not representative of the house as a whole and are presented as the worst of the worst, with before and after.  Further note that all of these are in the bedroom, because that’s where the worst always is since no one but us ever sees it (and hence it is not subjected to the frantic ‘guests-coming-over-quick-hide-the-mess’ cleaning the rest of the house gets fairly regularly):

Top of TBear’s dresser

Top of my nightstand:

Chair in the corner of the bedroom (this one’s the worst):

*whew* Glad that’s over.  Now if we can just keep it that way and not pig it up again…

I think the appraisal went well (see, we really hit the cleaning hard because our appraiser was a woman and women notice that stuff) – the lady loved Woobie (and was as appalled as I was when Woobie fell off the bed in the guest room and I had to take her to the vet to have her leg checked – she’s fine, btw, just a luxated patella, which is fairly common in the breed) and loved the yard and the layout of the house, etc, etc, etc.  Still, it’s not like she’d tell us if she hated it, so we will wait with bated breath to hear the result…  She did want me to email her and let her know how Woobie was doing, so that means we connected, right?  Right?

Mad has given me an award. Behold the awesomeness:

This blog invests and believes, the proximity. [meaning, that blogging makes us 'close' -being close through proxy]. They all are charmed with the blogs, where in the majority of its aims are to show the marvels and to do friendship; there are persons who are not interested when we give them a prize, and then they help to cut these bows; do we want that they are cut, or that they propagate? Then let’s try to give more attention to them! So with this prize we must deliver it to 8 bloggers that in turn must make the same thing and put this text.

I’m supposed to bestow this award on 8 other bloggers, but I don’t know that many (that have not already been honored with this prestigious Holy Grail of Blogging) and I’m all incognito over here (*snort*), but I hereby forward this award to paradoxosplanet, GJKEA, ShinyGoHigher, Rindalin, Boehmer’s Necklace, and notsurewhatimdoinghere.

I’m just so inspired to show the marvels and to do friendship… 

Note: I’m completely late and behind in acknowledging this piece of wondrousness, since I’m a complete WordPress noob and was unaware I’d been tagged by the most gracious Giraffe until just recently.  The main thing is, I don’t want that these bows be cut (as so many seem to want that they are cut), but rather that they propagate.

My husband just found an at-home pole dancing kit in a catalog. 

No, it wasn’t one of those catalogs.  Sheesh!  What kind of people do you take us for?!

Xanga Edit:  And while looking for a random appropriate book to pretend I’m reading (related to pole dancing), I came across “Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns”.  Seriously?

Does anyone really buy Viagra from one of the ceaseless spamming e-mails?  Anyone?  Anyone?  If you really needed Viagra, would you buy it for $1 from a spammer?  Really?  Anyone?

This is it.  The last of the best.  Well, until I go through more catalogs.  Maybe I’ll have to do a post on best gift ideas ever…  Til then, though:

You want me to be honest?  Uh, how honest?

I woke up and smelled something… but I don’t think it was coffee

Happy Birthday!  Where should I put the pony?

I pay the rent and I like the seat UP

Any minute now I’ll jump in with pointless observations.

Germophobes need love too – just wash your hands first

333   I’m only half evil

I can’t believe I own a minivan

Life is too short to cook for you people [also available on apron]

Can we declare a snow day?

Fetchez la vache!

PIFFLE!!!

I’m currently away from my desk.

you’re on the list

Maybe Perhaps Possibly (I’m really not sure)

I’m an evening person in a morning world

Take one step closer and I’ll run away.

My prayers are more heartfelt and devotional than yours. [Ok, this one almost didn't make it in - but it was completely a Screwtape Letters-type insight into our fallen human natures...]

This is letting my freak flag fly

Empty promises.  Calculated betrayal.  Sociopathic greed.  Just another Monday.

You’re like a brother to me.  Let me give you a wedgie.

Maturity, wisdom, life experience.  I’d trade it all for tight abs.

I look at the kids and see myself (a short, badly behaved self)

Is there a hyphen in obsessive-compulsive?

More Best T-Shirt Sayings Ever (2008 edition):

Under this placid exterior is a seething cauldron of emotion

Eating oat bran at work got me fibered [what can I say? I'm a sucker for a pun]

I before E makes me have a vowel movement [like I said - sucker for a good pun]

Backseat drivers are – OH! Turn here!!

Avid indoorsman

20% Stud 80% Muffin

Random beatings will continue until I get exactly what I want.

I heart my job (that should fool my boss) [hee hee hee - I was tempted to get this one for the whole office]

Another life torn apart by dark chocolate

Cloudy with a chance of sarcasm

I spend every minute with my kids.  I’m allowed visitors every other weekend.

Quit yo jibba jabba! [with a picture of Mr. T]

Sanity is backordered.  Sarcasm is in unlimited supply.

Danger: Mouth operates faster than brain.

Everything I say is fully substantiated by my own opinion.

Yeah, I’m old.  But at least I made it.

Am I getting older, or is the supermarket playing great music?

My day isn’t done until I’ve horrified a complete stranger.

I spill things

You know that Social Security they keep taking out of your paycheck?  Well, it’s going to me! [This one's for my in-laws]

Women dress me with their eyes.