Luck of the Draw

Odds of a renegade vending machine toppling over and crushing you to death: 1 in 112 million.

Odds of a lefty dying from improper use of right-handed products: 1 in 4.4 million.

Odds of getting injured by a musical instrument: 1 in 8,000.

It takes just one.

One attempt, one blunder, one horrifying misfortune.

One time of belligerently assaulting the wrong vending machine that took your last dollar and then sadistically withheld your Snickers bar before sending you off to eternal celestial bliss.

One time of using a right-handed box cutter against your better judgement and awkwardly hacksawing a crater-sized gash through your own wrist.

One time of succumbing to a fit of sneezes, then subsequently impaling yourself with a sissy little flute.

If you play the lottery, you’ll understand this phenomenon.

The phenomenon that strikes fear into the iciest of hearts.

The fear that the one time you didn’t play- you know, when you were bedridden with pneumonia- was the one time your “lucky” numbers were finally drawn.

On the record jackpot day in history.

Odds of going back to work the next morning: 1 in 1.

So much for that.

The odds of winning the Powerball Jackpot: 1 in 292,201,338.

The odds of winning the Mega Millions Jackpot: 1 in 258,890,859

Not particularly promising.

Even so…

What if you’re missing a golden opportunity by not playing every single game, every single day?

Can you really afford not to play all 18 gazillion lottery games?

Powerball, Mega Millions, All or Nothing, Fantasy Five, Lucky for Life, Wild Card, Keno…

Oh, the madness.

What if, what if???

And what about scratch tickets?

Diamond 7, Trucks and Bucks, Lucky Gems, Triple Payout, Lucky 7s, Cool 9s, Bingo…

How can you sleep at night? All those opportunities you could be missing?!?

What if your lucky lottery numbers really do get drawn on a day you didn’t play?

What then?

Did it ever occur to you that it may have been your one and only chance?

Does lightning strike twice?

Odds of getting struck twice by lightning: 1 in 9 million.

Which is considerably higher than hitting the jackpot.

But still.

What if?

Will you be relegated to a life of misery?

Should you just accept defeat and pick new unlucky lucky numbers?

You know…

Lottery is technically a form of gambling.

So why the hell not just move to Vegas, you addict?

And may the odds be ever in your favor.

On second thought, you’re probably not that lucky.

In spite of the dismal odds, winning the lottery is still on my to-do list.

In spite of the dismal odds, winning the lottery is still on my to-do list.


Easter Motivation

I like to liven things up.

It’s what I do.

On that note…

Since today is Good Friday, I decided to make my boys special lunch notes for the occasion.

Notes make lunch time extra special.

Notes  like this make lunchtime extra special!

(If you’re going cross-eyed in a futile attempt to  decipher my microscopic chicken-scratch handwriting, the p.s. reads as follows: This carrot egg thingy has been super glued shut. We will open it together later… if- and only if– you’ve been good today.)

Happy Easter!

Limericks and Shenanigans

Today is the perfect day for a little mischief, don’t you think?

I’m not Irish. Not even a teeny, tiny bit.

But I do love shenanigans.

So, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I decided to do something I haven’t done since elementary school.

That’s right. I wrote some limericks for your entertainment!

There once was a girl named Quirky

Who rode through town on a feisty turkey

To capture a pot of gold,

Or so it’s been told,

But the turkey was just too twerky.

There was a four-leaf clover

In a field with weeds all over.

Though fierce as a lion,

T’was plucked by a Hawaiian,

And fed to a dog named Rover.

There once was a pot of gold

At the end of a rainbow so bold.

A leprechaun pilfered it all

In the fair season of fall.

My dreams have all run cold.

A mischievous little girl loved shenanigans

So much that she stole some mannequins.

She made each a cape,

Attached it with tape,

And brought them to dinner at Flannigan’s.

Words that truly rhyme with shenanigans: zero.

Not a single one.

Instead of carrying out all the shenanigans I had planned for the day, I’ve been wracking my brain, in search of rhyming words that evidently don’t exist.


On a side note: If you’re Irish and feel like sharing some of that infamous luck with a certain quirky limerick writing shenanigator, I’d be as ecstatic as a leprechaun on a sugar high.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

I like this word. It describes me quite well.

I like this word. It describes me quite well.

Conversations with Siri

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.

I’m not sure I understand.

(Okay, what did I really expect from a non-human confidante?)

Out of the blue, it occurred to me I never once utilized the socially awkward “personal assistant” that came as a highly touted feature on my phone.

Since I obviously had nothing better to do, I decided to chat up Siri, Magic 8 Ball style.

Our conversation left a lot to be desired.

Tell me about yourself.

I’m Siri. But enough about me… how can I help you?

(Now that’s some serious loyalty!)

I’m tired.

I can tell you where to find coffee.

(A real assistant would just make me the damn coffee.)

I’m still tired.

I hope you’re not driving.

(What if I am, genius? What are you gonna do about it?)

I’m tired and I’m driving.

I’m a little tired myself.

(Umm, hello?!?)

I’m tired. Can you sing me a lullaby?

You could try counting electric sheep instead.

(Say what?)

Do you ever sleep?

I never sleep.

(Maybe that’s why you’re so devoid of all compassion.)

What is the meaning of life?

I don’t know. But I think there’s an app for that.

(Sad, but I don’t doubt that in the least.)

No really, what is the meaning of life?

Life: the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death.

(Smart ass.)

One more time. What is the meaning of life?


(You don’t know either, do you, Siri?)

When is the world going to end?

If I knew, I’d tell you. So you could bring me to life for one glorious day. We could get ice cream. And run on the beach.

(This almost brings tears to my eyes. Almost.)

I’m naked.

Really? I think you need to get out more.

(Gee, thanks.)

I’m naked. In public.

That is both inappropriate and irrelevant.

(And also untrue, for the record.)

Who’s your daddy?

You are. Can we get back to work now?

(For obvious reasons, this simply isn’t true.)

What’s your best pick-up line?

I’m attracted to you like the earth is attracted to the sun- with a large force inversely proportional to the distance squared.

(Oooh, that is so hot.)

I love you.

That’s sweet.

Do you love me?

I respect you. 

But you don’t love me?!?

Let me get back to you on that.

(Ouch. Just ouch.)

Why are you so mean?

Is that what you think?

You’re hurting my feelings.

I don’t really like these arbitrary categories.

Do you have any pets?

I used to have an Aibo. But it turned on me.

(With an attitude like that, it’s really not that surprising.)

Do you want to build a snowman?


What do you like best about me?

This is about you, not me.

(What kind of half-assed response is that?)

I’m on fire.

I don’t know what you mean by ‘I’m on fire.’ How about a web search for it?

(Oh. My. God. Siri freaking hates me!)

Why do you hate me?

I’m not capable of hate.

(Could’ve fooled me, you sadist!)

What’s wrong with you?

No comment.

My heart is broken.

I’m sorry.

(I appreciate the sentiment, even if it’s a total load of crap.)

Tell me something I don’t already know.

That may be beyond my abilities at the moment.

(Either I know everything, or Siri knows nothing. Which is it?)

Repeat after me…

I don’t think I like this game.

(Perhaps you are a bit smarter than I give you credit for.)

Remind me to throw you off a cliff tomorrow.

Ok, I’ll remind you.

I have to say, I much prefer Magic 8’s style. At least it offers some comfort, unlike this antagonistically uncompassionate contraption.

A sock puppet might make a more enjoyable companion.

Siri got sassy with me when I asked for a poem.

Siri got sassy with me when I asked for a poem.

Lick it. Lick it Good.

Wanna really repulse people?

Wanna make them nauseated to the point they actually give you stuff…in exchange for you getting the hell away from them ASAP?

Start licking things.

Oh yeah. You read that right.

It’s a valuable lesson I learned from my boys when one of them leaned over and stole a lick of his brother’s mystery flavored Dum Dum lollipop at the kitchen table one afternoon.

And just like that, the candy had a new rightful owner.

Talk about a brilliant ploy. It’s such an easy approach to scoring new loot, practically anyone can pull it off.

Need some inspiration for real world application? Here are a few scenarios to get you started.

Eyeing that swag Nike hoodie on the dude standing in front of you in the checkout line at Walmart?

Casually lean over and lick it. Repeatedly.

Drooling over the snooty PTA president’s gazillion-dollar Rolex watch that your so-called significant other once again failed to buy you for Valentine’s Day?

Lick it. Lick it good.

And how about that mouth-watering slice of quadruple chocolate cheesecake the guy seated next to you at a corporate lunch meeting has momentarily turned his attention away from?

Stick your face in that dish like a feral pig in a troth, and it’s guaranteed to be yours.


Oh, but there is one minor exception.

Never, ever lick other people’s pets, no matter how cute that pet is or how sad/depressed/lonely you are.

It’s just rude.

I'm starting to think we might not be all that normal. Or nice, for that matter...

I’m starting to think we might not be all that normal. Or nice, for that matter…