This is a book my son and I wrote together and I would love for you to share it with your kids!
The Superhero-ish Journals of Harv Anderson Snooterbutton.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Friday, March 31, 2017
I know, I know, I stole the title from that minion movie, I am scandalous,,, let's move on please.....
I need to start blogging more and I will. I solemnly swear to this....
...as I stand here, wind blowing my hair back, in a superheroish pose, sparkles littering the world as they fly off my eyelids....
So for all *one* of you still reading my blog.... Here ya go....
Everyday I get up and go to work and everyday I feel I have betrayed my soul. Someone so whimsical and imaginative should not be sitting behind a desk and dealing with the general public. Especially when that general public has a penchant for screaming at you for something you have no control over. Their grumbling over such trivial things is frustrating. I want to scream;
"Eat a Circus Peanut for cripes sake!"
(Little known fact: Circus Peanuts contain the powers of happiness as they are made by the compressed farts of unicorns, dusted with the hopes and dreams of Gerbils and delicately "flipper" shaped by baby harp seals. If you taste a salty aftertaste whilst consuming a Circus Peanut you will have 8 years of whimsy as you have consumed the magical tear of harp seal. You're welcome for the information as this is knowledge that only the super enlightened are privy to)
The other day I got yelled at for sending a refund. A REFUND! This refund was too small to validate the customer's time. Her time is commodity, it should be respected and now she has to spend gas money AND time to take it into her bank (in town) and deposit it. Apparently, calling us and screaming at me about said refund for 20 minutes was a great use of that aforementioned "precious" time, who knew?
I begin to wonder. What would I do with MY time should I ever be financially blessed enough to throw the 10 hour workdays behind me. My mind flutters with happiness in that thought.
My first day would be spent as follows:
I would go to a fabric store. I know exactly what fabric I am looking for; lime green fur. When I find it I will spend the first 10 minutes rubbing it on my face and enjoying the full, floofy factor. I will then take the entire floofaliscious bolt and "try" to pretend it is a light saber by challenging the other less fabulous bolts of fabric to a duel. My bolt is heavier and longer than me so this will not end well, but I could not call myself a true Star Wars fan if not attempted. And as a side note: my sound effects would be "spot on".
I will search for the foam aisle next. It is important that the foam I choose have an appropriate "squish" factor. I have all day so I take my time. Once found I will place the yardage of foam next to my now disheveled bolt of limey, floofy goodness. I will then trot off superfluously for to the "Fluff" section of the store. I am looking for pillow stuffing.
Soon I would discover the perfect fluff to air ratio I return to my other treasured goods.
I gleefully lay the foam down in the aisle measuring just a smidge over 4ft 11' of foam with the tape measure I snatched from the lady behind the counter (Don't worry, I replaced it with a feather boa, she was miffed but stunning). Next I cover the foam with the lime floofy fur and lay the pillow fluffing (still in the bag) at the top of my "fabric store napping extravaganza spot" (or FSNES for short). I deduce that jersey fabric in a watery turquoise blue will make a fine blanket so I retrieve some.
My FSNES is complete!!!
Finally can enjoy the fruits of my labor and I ceremoniously plop down. The plastic of the pillow packet causes my face to stick and sweat but it is worth it because every time I move it lets a little air out and the bag "whistle farts", this amuses me.
Soon the blue aproned, fabric store defenders find me and threaten me with serious action.
I question their authority:
I question their authority:
"Why do you not have a fabric covered fabric store police badge?" I ask them.
I call out their ultra-authoritative fabric store shenanigans until the blue lights outside start reflecting on the sparkle section of the store. This casts a rainbow glow on the ceiling and walls.
"I am magical!!" I say loudly "Look around at the sparkling beauty I bestow upon this establishment!!"
They are NOT amused.
I explain to the ACTUAL police that I was trying out the bedding materials as I would be making portable "napping extravaganza spots" (or NES's) for the children of Zimbabawaee as I am a giver. Now I am exalted as a hero and the blue aproned fabric store defenders feel like schlubs having ever questioned my sanity. I advise them vociferously that their merchandise is subpar and leave the store, purchasing nothing, but leaving behind my FSNES for the other shoppers to enjoy (you're welcome).
All I wanted to do is have an exotic "destination" nap in the middle of the day.
Is that so much to ask for a Zimbabawaee humanitarian icon such as myself? Really?
Depressed by the outcome I go to Wendys and order a large Frosty.
Their machine is down. Their freaking machine is ALWAYS down!! WTF Dave!!!???
It takes hours to get the lime floofy fur remnants out of my hair and off of my clothes and it causes me to chafe in unnatural places.
Still a better day than being at work.