Wednesday, September 14, 2011

My Version of the National Poverty Level

According to the newspaper, my husband and I are a mere 2 kids away from falling below the National Poverty Level, or NPL as I like to call it.  NPL makes it sound more like a sport, like NBA or NFL or NRA.

Since I'm mathematically dyslexic and because I don't give a rat's patootie about details (it was in the newspaper but the explaining paragraph looked too boring to read so I skipped it), I'm really not sure how they come up with the figures that define if one falls above or below the poverty level. So I've devised a more clever and brilliantly thought out way to find out where you stand.

I believe my version to be more accurate.

(This is my family in the 1940's making apple butter in their backyard. I might be poor but I get it honest.)

You fall under the NPL if:
1. The toilet paper where you work is better than what you've got at home.
     a. You work in a feed mill part of the time.
     b. The other part of the time you work on a roving tar & chip crew, therefore the toilet paper consists of napkins from Sheetz and whatever flora you can scrounge off the forest floor.

2. Your welfare/foodstamps friends with multiple kids are eating better than you. The inside of their fridge looks like the midnight buffet on a Carnival cruise ship compared to your pitiful collection of condiments and Ziplock containers of mysterious and fuzzy mold.

3. You hang out at the old folks home in the winter time because they have heat.

4. You buy a cheap pair of flip flops for $7 at Payless and the cashier tells you that you must have mega will power because there is a Buy One Get One Half Off deal going on. And you're like "No, I just don't have an extra $3.50 and I feel bad about spending this much instead of buying the $1 ones at Dollar General."

5. You realize that the jeans you are wearing were given to you buy your friend Mary before she moved away and that was about six years ago. You got your "dressy" t-shirts from another very good friend (who will remain nameless so her boyfriend doesn't wig out on me) when she had her boobs done. And as you look around, you discover that your entire wardrobe was given to you by someone else.

6. You read about the NPL in the newspaper you found on the breakroom table at the mill because you can't afford to buy your own subscription.

7. You dream about robbing a bank but in your dream, someone finds your stash of stolen loot and shreds it into mulch. Even in your dreams you get to be poor. Bummer.

8. When you accidentally get burnt by a run-away firework on the 4th of July you refuse medical treatment because the co-pay to see your doctor is $30. You don't need that arm anyhow, that's why God gives you two of them. Let it burn.

(This has healed nicely on its own since the picture was taken and yes, that really is my arm and I really didn't go to the doctor.) 

9. Your front bike tire went flat two months ago and your husband still hasn't fixed it.  - Oh wait. That falls under "Cheap and Simple Repairs Your Husband Could Do But Just Conveniently Forgets To Do." 

Welcome to the NPL. Go Team Poverty!




Monday, September 12, 2011

The Pro's & Con's of Running

In the past few years I have gone from fitness fanatic to world class couch potato. Running was my exercise of choice followed closely by whatever workout they were doing on FitTv or Lifetime in the morning. For years without fail, I would wake up and do Fit & Lite with Denise Austin. Then Lifetime took her away.  Gilad kept me trim and limber on the FitTv Channel until Directv ditched it. Then my dog died and I ditched running. It was an easy transition into slobdom. Pass the Doritos please.

Every now and then I put on my sneaks and hobble outside to do a few lame and labored miles. Grudgingly. In this month's edition of Runner's World it had an article to get people motivated to become morning runners. It said to list the pro's and con's of running. So I shall. Here they are:

Pro's to running:
1. Running makes me look like a goddess. (Only in my mind but that's all I need really. As long as I think I look good....)
2. When I run I get to brag about having ran. (What? Oh, that's nothing. I already ran 5 miles this morning.)
3. It minimizes the cheese on my thighs.
4. It gives me Awesome calves. When I flex them they look like chicken cutlets. This in turn minimizes the fact that I have cankles. (Thanks a BUNCH bad genetics.)
5. You can see my knee caps instead of just stretch marks and cellulite.
6. My heartbeat slows down to like, 3 beats a minute. Running makes my heart so efficient that I'm almost clinically dead. This is fun because it freaks out the people at the Red Cross when I make a blood donation.
7. I eat like walrus and look like a gazelle.

Con's to running: 
1. I'm too lazy to run.
2. You have to do it consistently for it to work.
3. More specifically, you have to do it consistently for months and months.
4. I don't like running in the cold.
5. I don't like running in the heat.
6. I don't like running in the evening.
7. Mornings don't work for me either.
8. My whole day has to be planned around the run because I hate having to take more than one shower a day.
9. I sweat like a warthog. Seriously. I can soak an entire ball cap, including the bill. Ask my old running partners.
10. I sometimes have to wake up at 3:30am to be at work and then if I work 12 hour days, I don't feel like running at the end of it.

Well, there you have it. I'm not sure what conclusion I'm supposed to come to. I think the magazine said I was to be able to see that the pro's outweigh the con's. Personally, I'm thinking I'd totally rock a muumuu. Screw you skinny jeans.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Funeral Crasher

So there I sat this past Saturday morning, enjoying the epic cheesiness of "Eclipse" (thank you Netflix) when I got a phone call from Walt, my unofficial personal assistant. He was calling to let me know that my great-aunt's funeral was that day at 11 o'clock. I found out at 9:45am. 

He said he had left a message on my answering machine about the viewing (the night before apparently) which my machine failed to relay to me. This made me wonder how many other important calls my machine has not given me.

"Kelly? Ed McMahon here. You won the million dollar sweepstakes..." 

Walt was unsure of the exact whereabouts of the funeral but he did know it was at 11. There are only 350 small churches in our community. I felt that I should make the effort to go, and besides, where two or more of my dad's family is gathered, usually a good time follows. I was sure I could find it. 

So I raced to the shower (after I finished watching the Cullens defeat the army of newborns and discuss Bella's future with the Volturi) and was on my way.  The first church I stopped at had only two cars in the parking lot, neither of which was a hearse. 

I tried calling my dad on my sister's old trac phone with 29 seconds left on it. Since there is barely any service in our area I had to drive further down the road just to make the call. It went to voice mail.  He was apparently already at the funeral which was surprising since he is notoriously late for everything. I kept driving.  I even tried calling my gram to see if she had a newspaper with the obit in it. I think I got her out of bed. 10:50am is sort of early for her. 

Three churches and 35 minutes later, I was getting uncomfortable. The vintage dress I was wearing (which fit 5 years ago but not so much anymore) was giving me the vapors from having to suck in my gut. My pantyhose (how OLD FASHIONED!) made me feel like I was wearing long johns because it was a very hot day. I should point out that the purpose of the pantyhose was to cover up the fact that I was too hurried to shave my legs and to give the appearance of a fake suntan. 

I had pretty much given up on finding the funeral when I fell in line with some white cars doing about 20 in a 55 speed zone. Could this be the funeral procession?  I was ready to turn on my hazard lights when I realized that it was just a string of old people driving. ARRRRRR!!!!

So I pulled over in a corn field and shucked off the pantyhose and unbuttoned the middle of my dress to let my gut hang out. Oh sweet relief. The white car drivers were going so slow that I caught up to them again. 

I decided to call it a day and just head home. That's when I passed a church with a full parking lot AND a hearse. So I stopped. And almost got out of the car half dressed. It's a good thing I looked down to find my purse. I put myself back together but there was no way I wrestling the hose back on in a church parking lot. Houdini I'm not.  No wonder no one wears those things anymore. 

Quietly I snuck in the church, and slid into the back pew, hoping this was the right funeral. I decided that no matter whose it was, I was going to stay and if anyone asked how I knew the deceased, I was just going to say they used to be my Sunday School teacher. Even if he/she was the town drunk, that was my story and I was sticking to it. Turns out I was at the right church - I could see the back of my aunt's head.

While I was sitting there I also had an epiphany. This winter, when I'm tired of the ramen noodles, I'm just going to go to random funerals and stay for the meal. I could potentially be eating ham and green beans every day for free. Eventually someone will be clever enough to write a screen play about this and when they do, I want you to remember who came up with the idea first.