Using a Tape Gun

You would think using a tape gun would be easy. Well it’s not. It’s especially not easy when your dog is barking at you because he doesn’t like the tape gun. Maybe he thinks it’s a real gun. Maybe he just senses my stress and would like to add to it.

I bought a tape gun because everyone seems to think that using one will make it so much easier to pack the millions of boxes I have to ship out everyday. I was excited when I got it because I’m all about simplifying my life.

Anyway, it should be called a make-all-the-tape-crooked-and-bumpy gun because that’s what seems to happen every time I use it. At first I thought I’d just loaded the tape wrong, so I checked. I hadn’t. The tape is loaded as per instructions. I complained to my husband this faulty device because that’s what husbands are for.

Me: This thing doesn’t work right. (Throwing the tape gun on the bed like a tantruming toddler.)
My husband: (Picks it up and tapes a box closed perfectly) Works fine for me. You must not be using it right.

He’s such a smarty pants. He thinks he knows everything about tape and guns. I’m back to using a plane roll of tape to close my boxes. It works best for me.

I was thinking about buying in an actual gun, but if my experience with tape guns is any indication of how that would go I guess I should just buy the bullets and skip the gun part. An intruder would run away if someone started throwing bullets at them, wouldn’t they?

Note: I would never buy an actual gun … unless it was a laser gun … and it was pink … and it was on sale for 99 cents.

Another Note: I’m taping up so many boxes these days because I’ve been selling random items on eBay to make end meet.

One more thing: I don’t think it’s physically possible for my ends to meet. Maybe I should do more yoga.

When Life Give You Lemons … Dry Them

Do you remember when Martha Stewart spent time in prison? I’m not sure if she was convicted of insider trader or making me feel guilty about the state of my house. Personally, I think the latter offense deserves a much longer sentence than she actually got.

When she was released from prison a reporter asked her what she missed most while she was in the joint and Stewart responded, “Lemons.” When the reporter asked if that was it she said, “Just lemons. Oh and my friends and family of course.”

Some people thought that her response was cold hearted. How could you only miss a lemons in jail?

Those people don’t understand the true joy of a lemon. Not only can you use it to make lemonade, but a squeeze of lemon can enliven a sauce or make a glass of water that much more refreshing. Oh the humble lemon, it may make your mouth pucker, but it makes your heart dance with joy.

You may be wondering why I’m going on about lemons. I recently discovered dried lemons. If you thought a fresh lemon was something to write home about baby you ain’t seen nothing yet. Dried lemons will make your stew taste so good your head will spin. Trust me on this.

I made Persian stew the other day with dried lemons that was so good that I was starting to think that I didn’t really make it at all. Maybe some little elves scampered into the kitchen when I wasn’t looking and added a little bit of this and a little bit of that to make the stew a little bit of heaven.

Then I made a chickpea and veggie tagine with dried lemons that was so good my head nearly exploded. Trust me that’s really good.

This is all great news because as of late I’ve been in a bit of a cooking slump. I might just start putting dried lemons in everything.

Here’s a Daily Show clip from when Martha Stewart got out of jail to brighten your day.

Toothpaste, Cake Mix, and Live Worms

I don’t use toothpaste. I assure you that I don’t have dragon breath so don’t run away yet, hear me out. I don’t use toothpaste because I make my own tooth powder at home. I have two recipes that I use. I could share them with you if you like. I also make my own moisturizer and deodorant. I’ve been thinking about learning to make soap and shampoo bars too.

Yeah, I’m one of those people. You know the kind that avoids prepackaged foods, ferments vegetables, and filters the fluoride out of her drinking water. I consume raw dairy, feed my family organ meat, don’t store my food in plastic, and talk about the virtues of a wide palate. In short, I’m weird. I think some people call it being crunchy. I just call it being me.

I’ve been living this way for so long that I forget that it’s not normal until a situation arises that makes me realize how abnormal I am. Recently, I decided to try a new business venture that relied on me being normal. Let’s just say that it didn’t work out.

I was going to sell things on Amazon via Amazon’s Fulfillment program. There are plenty of people doing this and making really good money at it. Two of the best categories to try to sell in are the grocery and person care categories. Selling products that people need and buy regularly gets you more sales. The problem was that I didn’t really think this whole thing through.

When it came down to it buying a bunch of buy-one-get-one-free cake mixes from Winn Dixie to sell to people went against everything I believe in. Buying toothpaste from the Dollar Tree (one of my most hated stores) that is full of chemicals you really shouldn’t be putting into your month and selling it at a higher rate on Amazon was just too much for me to handle.

If any of you are interested in selling things on Amazon using the FBA program I encourage you to look into it. You don’t have to sell groceries. You could sell toys or books or live worms. It’s not for me right now. I’m already spread too thin and when I really think about it, I’d rather sell my own homemade personal care line on Etsy … one day … in the future … once I figure some things out … and get my act together … which might never happen.

Note: I’m thinking about starting a worm farm because who doesn’t like worms and farms?

I Got a Smartphone

smartbabyI always said I’d never get one. I was too cool to be constantly connected. I needed my space.

Okay, I only said that a couple of times, and it was just to make me feel like I wasn’t missing out on anything. In reality, I was constantly saying that one day in the future I would get a smartphone. My phone would be the smartest of all smartphones. I would be able to use it with ease proving once and for all my truly advanced intellectual abilities. Well my friends that day has come.

On February 1, 2014 I walked right up to a phone kiosk in the mall and after having a lengthy conversation with the man behind the counter about earlobe stretching got myself my very own smartphone. I set my prepaid dumb phone aside and starting living the cosmopolitan life. I suddenly became smartish.

That’s right, now I can use my phone to do important things like check Facebook, tweet, and upload pictures to Instagram. Life has never been better. I can make sure the traffic is clear on my way to my destination and I’m constantly aware of the weather conditions. All I have to do is figure out how to answer it when someone calls me and I’ll be set.

Photo by Dave Lawler

I’m Kind of Back

So it finally happened. Nebulous Mooch has become yet another abandoned blog on the internet that you stumble upon one day, read a few posts, laugh, cry, and then wonder what happened. Why did she stop writing? Did she ever realize her dreams of climbing mount Everest or learning to speak Greek? I know the suspense is killing you.

Since the last post that was written on this blog some time last month, I’ve become fluent in Greek and Mongolian, earned a third degree black belt in Karate, started free diving and free running, won the world record for eating the most Twinkies in a single sitting, climbed Mount Everest, and learned to play the guitar … again. As you can see it’s been a busy few weeks.

If you want to be able to do all of that in a few weeks too, boy do I have some tips for you. First make a list of the goals you wish to accomplish. Nothing is too big. The world is your oyster. Let the sky be your limit. Now that you have your list, look at it everyday, and imagine yourself accomplishing each task. Act as if you’ve accomplished your goals already. Your mind is an amazing thing. Before you know it you’ll believe you’ve already done everything you’ve set out to do. The best part is that you won’t really have to do anything, but sit around thinking.

The only thing I really did on my list was learn to play the guitar and learn to speak Mongolian. The other stuff all happened in my head which is almost like the real world except it’s mushier and a bit more cluttered.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to make this sorry excuse for a blog useful. So far I haven’t had much luck, so it’s back to the drawing board.

It’s Time to Change

“When it’s time to change, then its time to change
Don’t fight the tide, come along for the ride, don’t you see
When it’s time to change, you’ve got to rearrange
who you are into what you’re gonna be.
Sha na na na, na na na na na, sha na na na na
Sha na na na, na na na na na, sha na na na na” ~ The Brady Bunch

2013 is drawing to a close, and as we usher in 2014 we have a chance to reflect upon our lives, our goals, and our waistlines. Before writing this post I took about a half a second to look back at the goals I made at the beginning of 2013. Okay, when I say goals I really mean goal because I only had one. Unfortunately, I failed to achieve it.

So I didn’t win the lottery. I was so sure I would this year. You would think that if you purchase two lottery tickets during the course of a year odds are that one of those two would be a million dollar winner. Alas, it just wasn’t meant to be. I spent a whole four dollars and got nothing in return.

This year I’m ready to make a change. I’m through with the lottery. It makes me itch. Instead, I’ve decided to make this blog, Nebulous Mooch, useful this year. That’s right. This year I’ll be freely sharing advice with you. No more useless tips. This will be the year of useful tips that matter because when it’s time to change you’ve got to rearrange. I’ve got some rearranging to do this year, and I don’t just mean moving the sofa to the opposite wall in the living room. I mean helping you live the most nebulous moochy life possible.

Happy New Year. I’ll see you next year.

A Mother Life

BlogWithIntegrity.com

I’m Difficult to Talk to at Parties Because …

I watch about two hours of television every week. I’m not telling you this to brag. Face it, nobody likes a bragger and I like to be liked. Nobody likes someone who says, “I don’t watch TV,” either, so normally I just keep my mouth shut. I’ve never seen Breaking Bad or Mad Men or The Walking Dead or Survivor or Big Brother or Orange is the New Black. I know that’s not technically a TV show, but it’s the same concept. I don’t care about the antics of the Real Housewives of New Jersey or Atlanta or Beverly Hills or Kalamazoo.

My viewing entertainment is mostly spent on You Tube. A four minute video is about all I can handle. I have the attention span of a gnat. That’s probably sizeist of me because I’m assuming that because a gnat is small it cannot pay attention. I’ve never tried to hold a gnat’s attention so I really don’t know.

My attention span disappeared sometime between June 22 and June 24 2007. I’m pretty sure it was stolen by leprechaun while I slept. Prior to that date I could watch a ten hour conspiracy movie like Zeitgiest without skipping ahead once. After June 24 of that year I seemed to only be able to watch 30 second videos featuring kittens.

Now committing to a television show that will keep happening week after week for hours and hours is way too much to ask of me. You might as well ask me to carve an image in the Virgin Mary into a grain of rice. I’ve tried to do that before and it’s just way too difficult. Rice is too powdery. As soon as you start trying to refine the facial features a bit everything begins to crumble. Carvingg the baby Jesus in a flaxseed is a different story though. No problem really. Give it a go and you’ll see what I mean.

Anyway, that’s why I’m so hard to hold a conversation with at parties. I don’t watch television and my crowded little brain is too busy planning my next flaxseed carving to pay attention to what you have to say.

Blackeyes, Turkeys, and Amazing Savings

So it’s Monday and you still haven’t bought your Thanksgiving turkey. That could mean only one of three things:

  1. you’re a vegetarian
  2. you’re not an American
  3. you just don’t like turkey

I guess it wouldn’t have to be one of those three things. I’m sure you could have any combination of them going on. You could be a Cambodian who tried turkey once when you were a foreign exchange student in Michigan and thought that it was so awful that you became a vegetarian right there on the spot.

I just thought of a fourth thing to add to that list. You could be me. I’ve chosen to ignore all holidays because they only mark the cruel passage of time. Instead of gorging myself on holiday delights until I can no longer button my trousers, I’ll be training for the professional shopping that is the other holiday tradition. I’ll knock your turkey-and-pie-eating behinds over to get to that ridiculously low priced HD television. Forgoing the traditional holiday turkey will leave me just hungry enough to be extra ruthless.

The good thing about this shopping tradition is that it requires no cooking and there’s no mess to clean up in the kitchen afterwards. You may get pushed, punched, trampled, tasered, or maybe even stabbed, but isn’t it all worth it for the terrific savings?

Last year, I lost my left eye in a scuffle at Best Buy, but I did get an iPhone for a hundred bucks. That’s a steal. I hardly ever used my left eye anyway.

That story isn’t completely true. I don’t have an iPhone and though I do like to wear an eye patch to formal events I still have both of my eyes. While I’m confessing, I guess I should also admit that I’ve never been shopping on Black Friday in my whole entire life. We don’t have a turkey though. That much is true. I don’t plan on getting one. I might make taco salad on Thanksgiving.

notturkey

 

Preparing for the New Neighbors

Someone bought the house next door to us. I noticed the sale pending sign on it a few weeks ago and immediately went into panic mode. Most everything sends me into panic mode, but the idea of new neighbors seems particularly terrifying.

What if they are members of a deaf metal band whose perfectionism compels them they rehearse constantly? What if they are serial killers who bury the bodies of their victims in their backyard? What if they are a family of clowns who wear their clown suits and makeup while doing yard work? Even worse, what if those clowns make balloon animals and try to give them to me?

We fixed our fence the other day in preparation for the new neighbors. Two of the posts had rotted and it was leaning against the neighbor’s fence.

My husband and I make a good team because he’s such a perfectionist and I’m so impatient. Fixing the fence involved string lines and levels and standing in the cement section of Home Depot for what seemed like ten years trying to figure out which type of cement was best.

“How about this bag of cement?” I say pointing to a random bag with red writing on it. “Quick setting, that sounds good to me.” All I’m really thinking about is the half gallon of milk in the car. I have to say something otherwise he could spend hours in Home Depot comparing post diggers and trying to decide which company makes the best cement.

When my husband told me that fixing the fence was a two or possibly three day job, he was including one full day in Home Depot in his calculations. It turned out to be a two day job just because we had to wait for the cement to dry.

My husband makes sure things get done right and I make sure decisions are made so they can actually get done.

Dog Yoga

I’ve been doing yoga every morning for a few years now. I’ve only been to a yoga class once in my entire life and instead depend on You Tube videos for my yoga instruction, which probably means I’m doing it all wrong. I’m not very good at following instructions and when I can get things wrong I usually do.

Since we’ve gotten Chompyface, he’s made yoga a bit of a challenge. I get up in the morning and let him out. He usually only wants to be out for a few minutes in the morning. Any longer than that and he starts scratching the door.

After I let him back in, I start doing my yoga in the living room because everyone else in the house is still asleep. I tried doing yoga out in the yard once and the mosquitoes acted like they were at Golden Corral. They just kept coming back for more. Convinced I would be all shriveled and bloodless before finishing my practice, I retreated indoors.

I go into downward facing dog and my dog is sniffing my head and trying to bite my hair. I transition into upward facing down and am greeted with a wet nose in my face. I sit down and prepare for table top pose and he sits down on the mat directly behind me making it difficult to get into any pose.

What is it about a yoga mat that makes Chompyface want to lay down on it? Maybe he has a future as a yoga teacher. He already has down dog and up dog down. He does them every time he gets up from a nap. I don’t know what the posture he gets into to lick his butt hole is called, but it looks pretty advanced.

I think I’ll get him some yoga pants and a mat of his own and send him off to a yoga teacher training class. Since he likes to get up early anyway, I figure he can start teaching a sunrise yoga class. He needs to earn his keep, so it’s about time he get a job. Dog food is expensive.

 

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