Do unto others, especially when the other has blood running down her face!

I have had a strange mole growing under my lip for quite some time. There is a hair that grows out of it and seeing as how I am 31, unmarried, and pudgy I figured I needed to do away with this mole before people started asking me if I was a witch. So to the doctors office I went.

Not only was I having my lip mole removed, but also one on my back. I was given a gown and a room to wait in and told to sit up on the table. I am short and I was never picked for sports because of my sweet vertical jumping ability. I was told to hop up on to the table that was covered in paper, while wearing a gown that was open in the back but tied at the neck. In doing so I almost suffocated, due to my fat ass landing on the gown pulling it tight around my throat. I also ripped the paper. I waited forty five minutes for the doctor to come in. While waiting I realized that the walls were paper thin and I could hear people tinkling in the adjacent bathroom and all about a rash another patient needs an ointment for. This was not how I planned to spend my entire Monday.

When the doctor finally arrived, I had to get a shot directly in to the mole, which caused my chin and lips to become numb. The moles were quickly removed. The incision below my lip would not stop bleeding. After about twenty minutes of trying to stop the blood I asked if I could have a band aid and promised to apply pressure in the privacy of my own home. I couldn't spend anymore time listening to people on the other side of the wall tinkle.

On my way home I picked up my nephew and stopped at Cafe Rio to get some take out. I thought the band aid was doing it's job, I was wrong. When I got back in the car I realized the band aid was soaked with blood and there was blood seeping from it running down my chin. My chin was still numb so I didn't feel the blood dripping down my chin. It was pretty obvious that something was wrong. So why didn't some nice stranger say something? My nephew is only five and much shorter than I am so I am not surprised he didn't see the problem. Not one of the nice people getting my food ready, taking my money or standing in line beside me said a word. I know if I saw someone with blood running down their face I would say something. I am the person who will say something if your shirt is unbuttoned or if your fly is down, even if you are a stranger. I say something because I want someone to say something to me.

The humiliation continued once I got to my sister's house. Seeing as how the band aid wasn't working I moved on to gauze and tape. I felt the like the girl from Sixteen Candles trying to drink from the fountain. Now not only were my chin and lips still numb but the tape and gauze didn't give so the food mostly fell back out of my mouth. My sister Jamie wasn't offended, she was super kind about it and even got me a second bandage when the first one soaked through. Now that's what sisters are for.

The moral of the story is do unto others as you would have done unto you. So that was my Monday. Hope yours was better.

Always say sofa dear, never say couch.

DaveCall are you two over two or three over three? Do you prefer tight backs or cushion backs? Do you like attached cushions or semi-attached cushions? This sofa will define us as couple - how do we pick? We is the keyword. How do you go from bulldozing over your significant other's feelings to coming to an agreement? Both of us are know what we like- both of us are good with design - but both of us can't agree. We both seem to hate the same things, but love very different things.

Making large purchases as a couple is tough. Either one person says "I don't care" and the other is left with the daunting task of trying to decide - and in this case it always overwhelms the decision maker, I have sold sofas for 16 years, trust me. Or both people want to decide but can never seem to agree, again I have sold sofas for 16 years and in that time have seen some of the most brilliant arguments between couples over furniture. So what do you do?

DaveCall and I are currently looking to buy a home together - yep kids, once again we are looking for a bank to legally bind us together. I figure if all my loved ones can't marry the person of their dreams then why should I? Plus DaveCall is fine and all for now, but what if I meet a sullen vampire in the schoolyard one day? Or Matt Hemsley finally pops the question? I hate to go to the post office, I can't imagine having to go to a courthouse and obtain a divorce. Don't try to tell me that vampires don't exist, they do. I've seen the documentary film Twilight. Second, don't tell me that it is pervy for me to be hanging out in a schoolyard, my vampire love is 117 years old, that is way more pervy than a 31 year old hanging out in the 'yard.

In the event that we do get married I would prefer to not have some flashy ring. I'm not saying that I want a KMart black hills gold special, but five $100 bands will do me just fine. If you are gasping right now, get over yourself. I can't imagine spending thousands of dollars on a ring that I will hate in five years. I have always loved a simple band and I always will. Also, a plus for the multiple inexpensive rings - 1) I lose everything, I don't always find it. I can leave one by the sink, one at work, one on the nightstand, one in the car and one in a secret place. 2) I am sure I will break some part of the ring, multiple times - I have been told that diamonds are incredibly durable, I am incredibly destructive. Incredibly destructive. You should pray that DaveCall and I never have a child. With DaveCall's desire to take things apart and my ability to destroy things, that child will probably spontaneously combust. You know what would be better than three months of DaveCall's salary spending its life on my finger?? A Costco sized bag of ring pops. That is even better that the 5 $100 bands! If I feel like my ring is too big and gaudy I can suck it down to a more appropriate size. If I chip it I can unwrap another one. Not only will people see that I am married but that I also like flavored hard candy - bam! Two awkward conversations out of the way. I would then take the savings from the ring pops vs the actual ring and use it towards a house (in this instance I am talking about one expensive ring, not $496.50).

Truth be told I don't really care for weddings. Sure I enjoy a good party, but I don't plan on having a wedding. Floral arrangements - pass. Fine China - nope. People staring at me as I walk down the isle - wouldn't everyone like to see DaveCall be walked down the isle by himself thirty years in the future (his dad)? I know I would enjoy that more. White dress - um, did you not catch the part about us living together - white seems tacky at this point. Love, honor and obey - doubts it. Showers - shoot me now. Bridesmaids? Good thing all my "sisters" are married - Bridesmatrons feels uncomfortable, and at this point if I have single friends aren't they old maids, perhaps they would wear a cat. * This old maid joke stems from someone telling me that at twenty-one I was an old maid for not yet being married. Bachelor Party - that would make me angry. Pictures - isn't that what your memories are for? Announcements - please see previous paragraph in which I tell you I hate the post office.

So back to looking at houses and making big purchases. I forgot where I was going with that....oh well.

Are you single? Damn!

It all started out like any other Tuesday night. DaveCall was in Park City and I thought, "Oh yeah, I'm going to see if the old girl has still got it." I put on my sexiest outfit, over sized turtleneck, hooded sweatshirt, non-matching pajama bottoms, and my paisley Bobs. Yes I have Bobs and not Toms, the Bobs fit better and they still give a pair to those in need. I was rocking my ultra sex appeal outfit and headed out to the hottest spot in the 'burbs....Rancheritos. I was really putting out the vibe as I crossed the stupid $%^&*#@ creek. You've seen girls rocking that come hither walk that is all hips and ass, yeah I wasn't doing that, I think I was mostly trying to keep the mud off my Bobs, but it was sexy nonetheless. There were two super hot pieces of man meat also crossing the bridge, one with a t-shirt he must have bought in the children's department the other with a man braid that reached his pants. They were sexy, the kind of sexy that George Clooney is made of. I totally let them know that I was vibing them by walking on the other side of the bridge, not making eye contact and pretending to check FB on my phone. Just when I thought that this night was going to go somewhere they continued on to the liquor store and I continued to see what other hotties I could find at Rancheritos. I thought that I would never come across such amazing men again and seeing how DaveCall and I always teetering on the edge of calling it quits, I knew that I needed to have some men waiting in the wings. The dating scene was on fire at Racheriots, but if I were to date the man fetuses there I would end up in jail. So I decided to take my hot, short, fat ass back home. I smelled of refried beans, salsa and bad choices - if I ever I was to meet DaveCall's replacement tonight was that night. As I crossed back over the bridge, lady luck smiled down on me. The men that I couldn't wait to introduce to my parents and a t-shirt from a band that hadn't ever feathered their hair, was also walking back over the bridge. They scanned my super hot outfit that left everything to the imagination and they said the most beautiful pick up line I have ever heard, "Are you single?" Me, "NO" as I awkwardly looked away and fumbled for my keys in case I needed to use them as a weapon. His sultry reply, "Damn." Now a younger Randi would assume that my sex kitten outfit, awkwardly falling out bun and make-up free face was what had drawn them in, but old cynical Randi knew that they didn't care anything about who I am, only if I was available to drink their cheap beer and check out their one eyed snake. Thirty something Randi was hit on, and she appreciates the gesture, but grateful to not be single. Looks like my relationship with DaveCall lives to see another day.

I said I had a filter. I lied.

DaveCall can read me like a book. You know in the cartoon version of The Grinch (not the live- action-raping of the original classic) when the Grinch gets and idea, "An awful idea" and the corners of his mouth turn up and his eyes light up - DaveCall knows that face and can sense what is coming.

I have learned to keep my mouth shut - sometimes, but my face always gives it away. When I was younger and I would lie to my mom the tip of my nose would twitch. I can't make it twitch voluntarily, but without fail it would happen if I tried to sneak something past her. As I got older I found it was best to talk to her in the dark.....just kidding mom (fingers crossed)...No now I'm just kidding. What is the statute of limitations on lying to your mother so you can sneak out to kiss a boy? Anyone? Anyone?

I recently found myself in a conversation with someone that I had a STRONG difference of opinion with. I have always thought that men and women are equal, but Daniel Tosh recently pointed out that women are still thought of as number two. During this conversation I was reminded that there are many people who still think the man is in charge and the woman should obey. I could hear Dave Chappelle in my head, only his voice said, "You know when something is so "sexist" that all you can say is, Damn! That was "sexist"." I quickly learned that this person was never going to see things my way and I will never agree with theirs. It wouldn't do me any good to argue, so I found it easier to just keep my mouth shut and silently smirk to myself as I thought of what I would say. As if right on cue DaveCall, who had his back to me, shook his head as if to say "No!! Do not say that." Does DaveCall have eyes in the back of his head? Does DaveCall have a setting on his hearing aid that can hear my thoughts?!? What I wanted to say was, "Hey, the night before DaveCall started his new fancy lawyer job I said to him, Want to do it one last time while I still make more money." I am quite certain that this would have made the third person's head explode, but what a glorious blog post that would have made.

I have never felt like DaveCall and I were anything but equal. There are definitely things that each of us is better at. David is a great at blue booking, I still don't understand why you need a semicolon. David is great at edging and fine trim work, I am the greatest big areas without boundaries painter. David is great at reading lips, I am great at hearing. David is a fabulous cook, I know how to scrub a pan. David is a whiz at fixing things, I am wicked good at ironing. DaveCall and I are a team. Just because he is a man doesn't mean that he is in charge here - let's be honest we both think we are in charge here, and we both love each other enough to let the other occasionally think that they are.

The moral of this story is I am thankful for the equality in my relationship. I am for now okay with the fact that I didn't make someone super uncomfortable - I totally disagree with them and I have a blog, and they don't.

Side note: To those of you who have told me that you like to read my blog to your children, I am flattered. To those of you who think it is not child appropriate and have had to stop reading it to you children, Happily Ever Laughter isn't a fairy tale in the Disney sense, but more of the honest lessons learned in a Grimm Brothers fairy tale.

Public Restrooms

***SPOILER ALERT***I am not a mother. ***BONUS SPOILER ALERT*** This blog contains the medically correct word for man junk. ***CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED***

I don't think that I have the skills required to be a good mother, I would drown my young. I do however think that I am a fairly decent and polite human being - so I feel qualified to to judge the actions of others in the Maverick Fillmore Women's Restroom.

I should have realized I was making a bad choice when I pulled in to the parking lot and there was a playground covered in tiny humans, but I had to pee, so my judgement was clouded. My friend Rachel, also not a mother, and I were traveling back from St. George with DaveCall. We walked in to adventure's first stop and made our way back to the bathroom. DaveCall walked straight in to the men's room, I faced a line of fifteen at the women's bathroom. There were six adults and nine children in line for four stalls. For the first time in my life I wished I had a penis, seriously, first time. I realized that tiny humans get potty trained and need to use the restroom, but why does that mean the mom has to take them. I realize that you don't "see" things in a restroom with stalls and doors, but it was the penis that brought these tiny humans in to this world and it is the penis that should take them to the bathroom.

These nine children belonged to three mothers. Children who in my mind were too old to be fighting over who gets to pee with mom. I have always been an independent person, and as long as I can remember have believed that peeing was just me time, I don't invite my mother in. Somehow the oldest and youngest children went in to the stall with mom and the the middle three of her litter were left to fend on their own. The middle child, who I am guessing was at least eight, decided that she was going to shove her face in the crack of every stall and shout, " Mom I can see you" or my other favorite "Mom where are you?" She did this to every stall. Not once did her mother say, "Knock it off. Stand in line and stop being a pervert." or at the very least call her by her full name. Being called RANDI LYNNE always meant that I was in trouble - I do a sweet imitation of my dad shouting it, if you see me ask...but I digress, this post isn't about my parents stopping me from being a crappy kid, this is about one mother's disregard for social etiquette. I thought to myself, does this mother just not notice? is she hoping that someone will take this obviously obnoxious tiny human there by ridding her of the pain of raising it, or has she just lost her will to care?

Being the child with a bank account that I am and favoring my passive aggressive nature over actual confrontation I decided to further the uncomfortableness. I am sure that you are asking me how this makes me a decent human as I stated earlier but alas, I am a comic first, decent human second. In the words of Daniel Tosh, "I apologize if I offend you. I am not going to guess where your line of decency is, I cross my own from time to time, it's how I know I still have one."

I looked at Rachel and said, very loudly, "I can't wait until you go in to a stall! I am going to peak my head under the door." The only other lady (she was 50ish) in the bathroom not herding a group of tiny peers laughed - this is trouble as now I know I have an audience. "Rachel, I am really sad that we are the only people peeing in a stall all by ourselves, will you join me." Rachel timed in perfectly, "Maybe we could lap sit." Now the lady is really laughing. A stall opens up and I go in, alone, but not finished. As I pee I dangle my flip flop out the door and shout, "Rachel, can you see my shoes, Rachel I'm showing you my shoes, Rachel why aren't you answering me." I then realized that there was a fake mustache stuck to my rainbow flip flop, which is just funny on it's own, and I now proceed to attempt to remove it. The removing of the mustache was impossible, if I got it off of one it was then stuck to the other - keep mind that I am still peeing while doing this. Rachel came and stomped on the mustache and I was free.

The lady in line was still laughing, the mother's were not. Oh I get it, it is okay for your kids to be obnoxious but not me. I know that I am at least twenty years older than the kids, so some of you might be judging me. I don't see it as me vs tiny humans. I see it as me vs the mother. Mother of five (who I am most certain was younger than me) please try, all I am asking is for you to try to wrangle your child in. I know that you can't control their every movement and that they will be little shits, but you can at least say, "HEY, stop looking in the stall doors." You get to choose to bring your litter in to the restroom, I am forced to share it with them, so I ask that you choose to keep them somewhat in line. If you don't I might just have to start a conversation about the existence of Santa with the child you have decided to leave me with - trust me it will be a day to remember, consider yourself warned.