You know that antiquated America’s Funniest Home Videos show, where a crowd of people laugh when a guy stupidly jumps from a trampoline onto the roof of a shack which invariably collapses and most likely sends him to a hospital with broken bones, dislocated joints, and cuts requiring stitches? I don’t really find that amusing.
But what has me questioning my sense of humor is this headline: Dog headbutt sends Martha Stewart to the hospital. My favorite part of this article is the following quote:
Quick thinking Stewat drafted in her daughter, Alexis, to get a plastic surgeon down to the emergency room, and she rode down to Northern Westchester Hospital among “the falling snow.”
Not only do we have “Stewat” but she is apparently quickly thinking about how she might need a plastic surgery for a split lip. Also, the falling snow is a nice touch. I just wish that she would describe how she used her own handcrafted bandage created from last seasons’ cotton balls and her favorite aloe vera plant, because that’s her kind of practical.
Is her dog headbutt coincidence with this blog? Time will tell. Wish you the best, Martha!
Some dogs are dangerous. My dog, however, is not.
You may (or don’t care) to notice this blog has changed from my own personal ridiculosity into “I Don’t Appreciate Your Tone, Martha.”
Let me tell you why.
Background: So yesterday, during my last hurrah of squatting at my parents’ I-do-have-gas-logs abode after the news scared everyone into believing the electricity lines would be snapping from ice accumulation (never happened), I picked up Mom’s copy of Martha Stewart Living. I admit I was in a haze of starvation, so I was self-torturing myself by browsing the recipes for various chocolate chunk dishes. Hilariously, I came across an article entitled “Curry in a Hurry” and immediately updated my Facebook status to say I prefer “Pork on my Fork … like right now.” But then my page thumbing landed on a blurb about tips for organizing your linen closet.
My linen closet? Pretty organized as far as linen closets go. I have a shelf devoted to sheets, one for my master bath’s towels, and another for the guest room’s towels. All are folded in the best possible way. But Martha Stewart Living suggested that I stack them with “room to breathe.” As in, a good two-three inches between stacks. Of course, Martha’s linen closet looked like the size of my master bathroom, whereas mine is narrower than a normal door.
But what really got me was the idea that I “take a moment to label the shelves by room” (see Martha Stewart’s labels, which fit all standard label makers). Um, really? I have to wonder at this shelf labeling fiasco. I know the difference between the master bath and guest bath towels — they’re different colors. My sheets all fit Queen sized beds, so does it really matter if I label them “by room.” Who has the time for this!
Oh that’s right: Martha Stewart, with her team of housekeepers and butlers and who knows what else.
Mission: Where is the practicality, people? No, I refuse to believe that I must be the epitome of organized household perfection in order to have a nice home. Who’s with me??