Note to Self - Who's your friend?

Today I was walking to the loo at work and the name Maurizio popped into my head.

"Do I know anyone called Maurizio?" I asked myself.

Then: "I'm sure I do..." and a face surfaced in my memory. Dark hair, olive skin, beautiful eyes... The kind of man you know can dance Latin style.

"Where did I meet him?" I was trying to remember.

"Friend of Fluffy Bear's? Old colleague? Networking thing?"

And then it hit me. He's Kyle's husband on the Real Housewives of Beverley Hills!

I was considering a reality TV person as someone actually in my life!

Note to self: Reality show people are not YOUR reality.

To read more in the Note to Self series, click here.

Note to Self: Choke-arama

Note to self

If you are wearing a scarf, and you bend over to get to something on the floor, try not to roll your office chair onto your scarf.

Your cube neighbors don’t want you hear you choking and gasping for breath.

Note to Self - On Kicking

 

Note to Self:

Do not kick the puppy's ball onto the shelves where the ornaments are.

Oh, and do not kick the puppy's ball behind the TV onto all the electrical equipment wires. 

Also, don't kick the puppy's ball onto the dining room table where all the bills are piled up.

You know what?

Just stop kicking the ball.

Just stop.

Note to Self - On Bio Breaks

Note to self

I understand that it had been a long meeting. 

I understand that you really needed to go. 

But, when you sit down in a public restroom, let loose and think to yourself “Aaaaah, that’s so good!”, try not to say it out loud.

To read more in the Note to Self series, click here.

Note to Self - On Spoling the Doggies

 

Note to self:

Spoiling the dogs by giving them scraps of roast beef from the table during your dinner party is amusing when you're drunk.  

And letting them lick the plates before putting them in the dishwasher saves you from having to rinse them and stick icky stuff down the garbage disposal.  

I get it.

But then there's the next day.

And the farts.

The silent-but-violent, far-reaching, lingering, stomach-churning farts.

Farts that leave sulphur on the palate with a chewy, meaty texture.  There's a bitter finish and back notes of laundry left in the washing machine for too long without being dried.  The bouquet assaults the nostrils with an aroma of pate, damp raincoats, rotting flesh and fresh feces.  

And they just don't stop.

They.

Just.

Don't.

Stop.

If you liked this post, see the other Note to Self posts here.

Note to Self - On Leaving the House at Night

 

Note to self:

If you are going to go outside at night because you just have to cut a sprig of holly for the centerpiece arrangement from that bush in the front yard, and you leave the light off so the neighbors don't see you in your PJs, try to remember how many steps there are from your front porch so you don't fall flat on your ass and retwist your right ankle, which is just starting to heal from the ass-kissing-the-linoleum-incident.  

And try leaving the front door open so your husband can actually hear you when you yell out that you need help getting up.  

Or turn on the damn lights and put a coat on.  

Your choice.

If you liked this post, see the other Note to Self posts here.

Note to Self - Dog toys

 

Note to self:

Do not spend $16 on an extra-special, purple, "tuff" dog toy shaped like an octopus when an empty 7 Up soda bottle keeps the puppy amused for two days.

Note to self: Dog abuse

 

Note to self:

Do NOT squeeze those things that look like blackheads on your doggie's tummy.

Boy dogs have nipples too.