Did I lose a follower because I wrote about the uniball? I couldn’t help it. How could I tell the Driver’s Ed story without it? People shouldn’t be offended by testicles. Testicles is a fun word. It rhymes with vestibules, and everyone loves those.
How is it possible that the 15 people who googled “frogs in my formula blog" spent exactly zero seconds on my blog, while the one person who googled “how do you know if you're skinny?” spent an hour? Maybe I’m only interesting when I’m a surprise. If that’s the case I guess I should pop out of more cakes.
I gave away my grandfather’s microwave oven yesterday. When he died six years ago, my dad gave me the microwave and some of the frozen dinners my grandfather hadn’t eaten. It felt like he was giving me an equation: microwave + dinners = meals, but there’s some of kind universal law against eating your grandfather’s Swanson Roasted Carved Turkey dinners after the fact. It never felt right, even though there were times when I was very, very hungry. (In case you’re wondering, I threw away the turkey dinners a year ago on his birthday because Chuck called me weird for still having them. Yah, I held on to them for five years, but I’m the woman who held on to a note for 25 so are you really surprised?)
In three days I will have been blogging for a year. A year. I’m still trying to figure out how that happened. Last year at this time I was a stay-at-home mom trying to get my kid out of the Amby bed (the link's vintage Mrs. Mullet, baby). This year at this time Chuck is a stay-at-home dad trying to turn our child into his Viking minion. I’m still trying to figure out how that happened. So is my brother-in-law, who recently told me that “men aren’t meant to be stay-at-home moms.” Ouch! Chuck, you have my permission to take off your apron and strangle him with the ties.
How can this shirt cost $250? I think I owned its twin in 1984; it was $14.99 and came from Bradlees, and it wasn’t stylish back then either. Marc by Marc Jacobs this is Mrs. Mullet by Mrs. Mulletville telling you that your overpriced, ugly shirt sucks ass.
A special thanks to Keely for giving me the opportunity to be annoyed, enlightened and nostalgic all in one post. If I thought I'd make it through Customs I'd hop over the border and give you this:
(Me! That's me in there!)
