Calling Sandra Johnson

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“Hello. I’d like to speak with Sandra Johnson, please,” she says.

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” I reply.

“Oh, is this 0122…”

Ah. One of those. That explains the fabulous British accent, too.

You see, we have a phone number in England, which rings our phone here. It costs something like $5 a month, and allows our friends and relatives in England to call us quite cheaply (thank you Vonage). On the down side, however, it does lead to the occasional wrong number, not to mention sporadic phone calls from window salesmen at 3:00 am.

I, of course, have absolutely no idea what the phone number is. Solution? I hand the phone to Andy. “What’s our number in England?”

“I’m sorry,” he tells the woman, “I have no idea what the number is.”

Somewhere in England there’s a very confused woman, wondering why the American and the Brit have no idea what their phone number is…

Random Acts of Strangeness

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I hear people talking about committing random acts of kindness. But they never seem to mention anything vaguely like these. Perhaps it’s true. Do you suppose I really am a little strange?

After eating out, I used to give away my leftovers to the first street person I passed. This all ended suddenly after the time when I effectively forced my leftovers on some poor girl who apparently wasn’t homeless (well, hey, she looked homeless to me). I couldn’t bear the shame of pulling that one twice, so I’m now forced to eat my own leftovers. Ah, the tragedy of it all…

I’m kind of an unofficial tourist Help Stand in motion. Whenever I’m walking around town, if I see lost and confused looking people, I’ll walk up to them and say “Can I help you?” I get some strange looks (and some people who eye me sideways like I might be a mugger, or a pick pocket), but a lot of people seem to appreciate it.

I can’t walk by an injured or lost animal without helping it. I’ve rescued everything from a HUGE bird (like a great blue heron, but white) to a hamster I found sitting on the side of the road. And then there was that time when I lived in Germany that I rescued a rodent (kind of equivalent to a squirrel) that had been hit by a car. I ended up flagging down a passing car with an English-speaking girl who led me to a local vet. The poor thing had to be put down (the rodent, not the girl), but at least it didn’t suffer any longer. Of course, I had to explain why I was late to work that day. I’m not sure they believed me on that one…

An Oscar Worthy Performance

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I know you’ve been desperately waiting for this photo, so here you go. I have indeed conquered the dreaded Office Christmas Party. Yes, in one short week I found the dress, the shoes, the bag, and the shawl, and made the necklace. And it all worked together! Ah, I am the queen of power shoppers.

On top of the stunning shopping performance I put in, I managed to play the executive’s wife at the party for two whole hours. Not my native habitat. I hope you’re all proud of me - it was an Oscar worthy performance.

And to add frosting to the cake, I picked up a bunch of new customers at the party, as well. Nothing like corporate women for sales! Now the dress goes back in the wardrobe with the shoes and bag, and I’m back in my jeans and tennies. I hope my new clothes like the dark, cos I think they’ll be in there for quite a while…

Um, Yeah

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I couldn’t even begin to make this up. Because I’m not this funny. Or this creative. And yes, in case you’re wondering, this is the After picture…

No, no, you’re wrong. It’s not the same as the Before picture. There are some improvements. You’ll notice the middle window on the left now has a blind! Of course it can’t be closed, but it’s there. Closing your blinds is overrated, right?

The bottom right window, on the other hand… um, yeah. Let’s not go there.

So moving along briskly, the third installment of this ongoing tale of Comedy and Horror will be published at the end of January (six more weeks!). Until then, stay tuned for more laughs at the Laugh a Minute Household, where Comedy in Action takes place on a daily basis!

I’m hoping by tomorrow I’ll be laughing about this one…

Clueless as to what’s going on? Desperate to join in the laughs? Check out the first installment of The Saga of the Pella Blinds, published back in October, or revisit the most recent installment from earlier today.

Revisiting the Comedy

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Today we revisit the comedy of errors that are my window blinds. The Pella people are (supposedly) showing up around lunch time. What do you suppose the chances are that they’ll have the right parts? Yeah, that was my thought, too. I can see that snowball melting right now…

You can see how much of a “rush job” they did (ha!) on fixing this by the fact that it has, indeed, been 6 weeks since the last time they hashed this up entirely. Did I mention that I ordered these in July? Oh yes, I think I mentioned that.

I’ll let you know how it goes…

An iTunes Christmas

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All right, I admit it. I am an iPod addict. I’m constantly plugged into my iPod as I work, and I spend an inordinent amount of time (and money) cruising iTunes for new songs to add to the eclectic 500+ songs that are currently rotating through my iPod shuffle.

But today I panicked. Why you ask? Because I suddenly realized that my poor iPod is in danger of missing Christmas entirely. I’ve spent the last month thinking about Christmas (and filling Christmas orders), but the music bit escaped me entirely.

Luckily, thanks to my quick thinking, disaster has been averted. My Christmas songs have made their way onto my iPod. Christmas will, indeed, happen this year.

A Taste of Boris

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I thought I’d better add in some Boris quotes, as well, just so you can appreciate the sheer entertainment value of the unedited Boris.

“My chances of being PM [Prime Minister] are about as good as the chances of finding Elvis on Mars, or my being reincarnated as an olive.”

“Nothing excites compassion, in friend and foe alike, as much as the sight of you ker-splonked on the Tarmac with your propeller buried six feet under.”

“There is absolutely no one, apart from yourself, who can prevent you, in the middle of the night, from sneaking down to tidy up the edges of that hunk of cheese at the back of the fridge.”

Strange Crush

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“That’s Boris!” I yelled, pointing at the TV and nearly falling off the sofa. “I love Boris!”

I admit to having a strange crush on Boris Johnson. It started while watching his appearances on Have I Got News for You, and was cemented firmly during the closing ceremony for the Beijing Olympics, when he waved the Olympic flag wildly (and with a distinct lack of dignity) on stage.

I love Boris. He’s fabulous. I don’t know if it’s his British schoolboy ways (hello Eton and Oxford), his warped sense of humour, or his utter bluntness. Maybe it’s the name, too. Boris! How fantastic is that? It’s not every day you meet a Boris walking down the street.

OK, I’ll insert a little background here for the bewildered non-Brits in my audience. Currently the Mayor of London, Boris has also been a journalist, a magazine editor, and a Member of Parliament. Quite the public figure in England. And yet unlike most anyone you’d see in office in the States, he’s very, very eccentric. And very, very entertaining.

Boris is cuddly. Loveable. I want to take him home and feed him cookies. What can I say?

I shall try to embed a video, so you can all see the joy that is Boris. There are some great Paul Merton bits on there, too. I could wax lyrical about Paul Merton, but I’ll leave that for another day…



The Arbiter of All Things Style

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I know you’ve been desperate to find out how my dress shopping went. And yes, I can confirm that I bought a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress. A lovely swishy one with pink flowers. It just screams “I am a classy, sexy artist. I am the arbiter of all things style. Buy my designs!”

I also bought… (I’ll pause here so you can sit down)… heels. Real heels. Three inch heels. The kind I haven’t worn since high school. Poor Andy is gobsmacked by my new height (I am not a short girl even in flats). He’s never seen me in heels before. Add in some dress tape (something else I’ve never used) to keep my dress in place - and the party from becoming X rated - and I’m ready to go. Well, except I don’t have a purse. But hey, that’s why God made pockets in men’s pants. So they can carry my stuff around.

Of course, now I must create the ultimate piece of jewelry to feature above my cleavage. I’m working on a very hip 70s-inspired flower necklace. Here’s hoping it works, because I don’t have time to make it twice! I shall post a picture of it when I finish. Wish me luck…

Look Out for Low Flying F18s

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Wow, forget the bomb squad. It’s not every day an F18 crashes in your area. At least this one wasn’t too near me. Living obliviously alone in my studio all day as I do, I didn’t even find out about the crash until Andy got home.

Mind you, minor details of geography didn’t keep Andy’s dad from emailing to see if we’re still alive. This is the joy of having in-laws in another country. Anything that makes it to the BBC News and happens in San Diego is obviously happening in our living room. Half the time I find out about minor earthquakes when Andy’s Mum phones to find out if we’re still alive…