Lotto Ticket Night

In the Ruff house, even the smallest of achievements are recognized. Especially on lotto ticket night. Allow me to elaborate. On my father's 50th birthday (342,672million years ago) his sister gave him the gift of lottery tickets. Now at the time we were like, "Lotto tickets? Really?” But we have found that it was the most exciting adventure we had ever embarked on. She bought us 50 tickets. Each ticket costs a dollar. So, whatever we won, we would use toward buying more tickets. Hence was born, lotto ticket night. Whenever we would cash in our tickets for new ones, we'd all crowd around the table with excitement hoping to win more than 7 dollars. You see, that’s the thing. We, the Ruffs, are not very good at lotto ticket night. The most we've ever earned was somewhere around 37 dollars. Well, tonight was lotto ticket night, which I could not have been more excited about. In order to build suspense, I am not going to tell you how much we made. If you want to be a party pooper, go ahead and scroll down to the bottom to ruin the surprise. Go ahead. I'll wait. (Elevator/Hold Music) You back? Good. For those of you, who decided not to ruin the surprise, thank you. And I am sorry you had to sit through that horrible elevator music. Well, on with the story. Tonight, my father (who is making his "cameo" appearance in my blog) endowed me with the intense responsibility of dividing up the cards. He left and I proceeded to tear along the perforated edges, ripping cards in half and swearing under my breath. Of course my father, who my mother has deemed the drama queen, insisted that the cards were ruined. But, the rest of the family just laughed at what an incompetent dumbass I was. Time came for the first card to be scratched. I go first, because I never win anything and because I like going first. I didn’t win anything (Cash winnings so far: $0). My father stared at the card in front of him for a few hours trying to decipher that incredibly blurry language we like to call English, only to realize that the directions he was trying to read were the same ones that I had just read, and mostly based on common sense. He scratched off his card, also winning nothing (Cash winnings so far: $0). Samantha was next to scratch off. She scratched her card. "YEAA!!! THREE DOLLARS!! BIG MONEY!!" We all proceeded to cheer and high five. This is what I meant by even the smallest achievements being recognized. It is Sophie's turn. "Sophie comin 'round to save the day," she says. I tell her she needs to work on her negative self image. She scratches her card. "TWO DOLLARS BITCHES!!!" I told her that her inferiority complex was starting to worry me. You want to know what I've learned? Everything sounds more triumphant when you add "bitches" to the end of it.

The Deep Voiced Sophie Translator and the Evolution of Phone Conversation

ahh.... Been a while hasnt it? Again, I wasnt busy or anything, I didnt even forget, I just didnt feel like it. But this morning on the bus I recieved some inspiration. There are these radio commercials for the Sylvan Learning Center (an extra-help program for kids struggling in school). You will hear a kid slam the door and say in a loud, clear, yet obnoxiously cheesy voice, "I'm stupid okay? I'm just stupid!" Then, in a deep voice that challenges the octaval powers of Barry White, you will hear, "I am frustrated and I don't know what to do...". Then, a girls voice will scream, "I give up!!". Then, oddly, yet again that burly voice that could seduce even the stubbornest of mules says, "I don't want to have to face failure again." Obviously, you get the point. They are implying that what the child says is not what they REALLY mean. Because, of course, when a kid says, "I give up", we need a burly man voice to explain what they really mean. So, I decided that I want that burly man voice in real life. Except I want him to translate Sophie. Because, according to her, I often misinterpret her words. For instance, one minute she will be scream her tiny, tiny little head at me. Then, the next minute she is asking for me to cook her macaroni and telling me she loves me. I suppose if that reliably manly voice had be there, when Sophie said, "I negate, Noah is a big doodoo head." he would have said, "I love you. Will you cook me some macaroni later?" While on the subject of me cooking Sophie macaroni, let me explain to you the evolution of Sophie's plea for macaroni. She will be on her way home from the barn and she will call and say Mommy would you cook me macaroni?" (Obviously she was to tired from sitting down on a horse while it jumps over things to cook it herself) Then, later my mother decided that she didnt really feel like cooking Sophie macaroni. But, of course she wants her princess to have everything her little heart desires, so she tells me to cook it. Sophie would come home and say "Mom, is my macaroni ready?". I would answer, "yes" and she would race of to the kitchen and hug me. Just kidding. She would rush over to the kitchen and grab a bowl and dish out her macaroni. Later, Sophie just decided to call my mom and say "Will Noah cook me macaroni?" Of course my mom says yes, less to anger te princess.