We have four cats. They produce self-replicating balls of cat fluff in the hallway (aka feline dust bunnies). It drives me nuts to see those damn balls of cat fluff keep appearing in the same spots multiple times each day and I keep scooping them up and disposing of them.

My husband is extremely anti-soaking. He would rather stand there and scrub away with the full force of his arm for half an hour to get stuff off the dishes and pans. He would rather take soaking dishes out of the dishpan and set them on the counter to get dry and ten times harder to wash.

Somebody really needs to find out what this dipwad is so scared of.

So should we have the Dallas Wetbacks, the Detroit Polacks, the San Francisco Chinks, the New York Yids, the Mississipi Crackers and the New Jersey Wops?

I’ve always liked this one better.

My husband’s parents didn’t even think to have his severely crooked teeth straightened, and after we were married we didn’t have the money for an orthodontist for him (when we did have it, we spent it getting the kids’ teeth fixed) so by the time my husband finally got braces it turned out to be too late.

Get 4 or 5 people and a 60s era VW Bug. Drive the front wheels across the counter. Pick up the back end of the car and walk it across, making sure not to walk on the counter. Wooo, it just counted half a car.

Also, don’t be afraid to make noise while the kidlets are sleeping. The womb is a surprisingly noisy place. They’re used to noise. If you make their new environment too quiet, then they’ll have trouble sleeping through everything.

The easiest and safest way to bathe a baby (at home) is to put a few inches of warm water in the bathtub, then have one parent disrobe and get in and have the other parent hand them the naked baby. Sit cross-legged with the baby on your lap and gently bathe away. Then hand the baby back out of the tub when you’re done.

I told my mom that the next time a bill collector called me, I would tell them where to find her.

It used to be that if there was something my husband doesn’t want to do, he’d go off and do something else to make sure what he didn’t want to do didn’t get done. Or if he couldn’t pull that maneuver, he’d do the job so badly that it’s the same as if it didn’t get done. I think this comes from his father being a bully…

Aw man. I have an HP tablet. Even if they did take it for trade-in (they don’t) they’ll only give me a gift card to use on buying a Fire tablet. I already HAVE a Fire tablet. Thbft, Amazon.

My mom: Can you lend me some money?
Me: No.
My mom: Can’t you just put it on a credit card?

Well, speaking as a boomer (I’m 67) I can say that not all our generation had that view. But for the people who did (and do) it might be because our parents grew up during the Depression where not pinching every penny might mean literally life or death. There was a reaction to that kind of obsessive frugality in…

I took a look at what my parents did with money (buying what they felt entitled to, buying what “everybody who is anybody in Manhattan” had, spending money like they wished their income would cover, etc etc etc) and resolved never to do any of that. And I didn’t.

Just call Scotland Yard and give them the date and time he’s going to get the bum’s rush. Problem solved.

My mom was clueless about money. She kept buying things and not paying the bills. She got sued for nonpayment at one point. Her income consisted mostly of Social Security, which she applied for at 62 over my strenuous objections that she should wait till she was 65. She took out a loan with a worthless car as…

My son was born right about the time the first Star Wars movie was released. We had no money for movies (or much of anything beyond the bare necessities) so we didn’t go see it.

My parents are gone now. My dad did OK with money (and his third wife really put them on a comfortable footing) but my mom... well, let’s face it, she was a moocher. I had to say no to quite a few requests, and listen to a lot of pouting and (futile) attempts at guilt-tripping before she finally realized she wasnn’t…