Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Here comes low-flying random! Watch out!
1.) I have joined this writing group, under the silly, silly impression that joining a writing group may spur me to actually write again. And by "write," I mean write anything that's not for work, a food-shoppin' (Hey, my Pittsburgh is showing! Get back now! 'n 'at!) list scrawled on the back of my energy bill envelope in red crayon (list usually consists of DIET COKE, DIET COKE, MORE DIET COKE, DIET!!!! COKE!!!!, PERHAPS SOMETHING IN THE BANANA AREA FOR THE CHILDREN TO MUNCH ON), or an overly long-winded ranty blog post.
The reality of what this writing group appears to have done to me is that now I can't even write blog posts and my food-shoppin' lists have greatly suffered.
Evidence of this: Today's food-shoppin' list was just one big query mark, indicating that I should just wander blindly around the grocery store until something shiny (and hopefully food-related) caught my eye and made me want to huck it into my cart.
This is how I came home from said grocery store today approximately 60 dollars poorer, but without much in the way of food that can be assembled into nutritious and delicious meals.
"Mom, what's for dinner tonight?"
"Wella-well, children, how does a package of mushrooms, a stray can of Dole pineapple tidbits, some squash, and Fig Newtons sound to you? What? No? No takers? You have no sense of culinary adventure. Fig Newtons, after all, aren't cookies. They're fruit and cake."
Further evidence of this: The fact that I am lowered to writing a post at least partly oriented around my food-shoppin' lists and/or lack thereof. I'm sorry, y'all. This is what I get for trying to better myself.
My work writing has not suffered at all, however, because I get paid to do that and money always gets me moving.
2.) My daughter's new preschool is extremely...colorful. I eagerly await her return from school each day, where I will ask her how her day went, and she will regale me with strange tales of wonder and mystery.
For instance, today, I heard The Tale of Two Hannahs.
There are two girls named Hannah in my daughter's class. Meredith will have us know that Hannah B. puts EVERYTHING in her mouth. Not to be outdone, Hannah L. is a BITER and all and sundry are warned to stay away from a BITER because BITERS will BITE you.
Upon hearing this, I briefly indulged in a mental image of small girls with placards reading "PUTS EVERYTHING IN MOUTH" and "BITER" on them, lest anyone get confused about the Hannahs and their respective differences.
I think we can all deduce what sort of career path these girls are on. Start 'em out young, that's what I always say.
3.) I just finished watching Super-Size Me and I think I might never eat again.
Wait...are those cookies? Refined sugar? Holla!
4.) Here is an interesting thing I did not know before: Apparently, if you have wonderfully clear skin all throughout puberty and rarely ever have a zit in high school, when most people are prone to having the zits, all of them will suddenly appear at once during the October of your 24th year and you will want to bury your head in sand.
That will teach me for feeling so superior about my flawless complexion while my fellow teenagers were busy coating themselves in Clearasil and trying not to eat anything with grease on it.
If only I had known...
5.) Growing up, there were certain words and phrases my sister and I were absolutely not allowed to use. Obviously, we were not allowed to use "swear words." But there were other, more benign words and phrases that would get us into Big Trouble should they escape our lips.
- Stupid, as in "You're stupid" or "That's stupid."
- Shut up
- Screw, as in "That's screwed up!" or "Don't screw it up!"
I can only assume that my mother's intent was to raise us as genteel, sophisticated ladies that would never stoop to using colorful language.
The actual result, however, seems to be that I have a fouler mouth than the proverbial sailor does and my wee sister is even worse.
This is why I've decided that, starting tomorrow, I will teach both of my children to shout, "HEY, RATFUCK!" and suchlike at random people on the street.
That way, when they grow up, they'll...uhm...have an over-developed, yet highly interesting vocabulary? Or something. I don't really think these things through, you realize. It just occurred to me that it might be funny if my 4 year old shouted, "HEY RATFUCK!" at a passing Officer of the Law.
PS - It wasn't until many years later that I realized that "dork" might actually refer to genitals of some sort. So now it makes more sense to me when I think about it. At the time, though, I just thought she was SO UNCOOL. I mean, gawd, she doesn't even own a t-shirt slide or anything but she thinks she can tell me, and my highly-awesome neon printed black t-shirt, WITH T-SHIRT SLIDE, and my several pairs of slouchy socks in differing colors chosen specifically to match the t-shirt of the day and worn all at the same time, how to talk? What a lamer.
Thought my 9 year old self.
Obviously, I hit the summit of cool when I was 9 years old and it's all been downhill from there.
Well, I think that's just about enough of that.
link | posted by Zombie at 9:49 PM |
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