Depending on how you look at things, either I never do a random post, or randomness is all I write. Pretty sure my family thinks it's the latter.
This isn't one of those "I don't have any ideas" posts. It's more along the lines of a "things I've wanted to post about but which weren't complete stories in themselves" post.
And you know me: If it doesn't take 1,700 words to say it, don't even open your mouth.
Nevertheless, there are a few 'thisses and thats' buzzing around in my brain that I thought I'd let out for some fresh air and a quick trip to the potty.
Overheard while working on the computer.
"Hey, Cori. Did you know, if there was an orange as big as my arm, it would be worth 27 Weight Watchers points?"
(Apparently Vanessa had pulled out the ancient WW food scale, so old it belongs in the Smithsonian.)
The big boy said at the dinner table last night.
"Of course, this was before minorities were introduced into the Salt Lake City ecosystem."
I'm missing some bloggy friends. Inkmom, Wendy, Life in the Highlands, Deb -- where are you?? I see you commenting on everyone else's blogs, and here I am, the poor kid against the wall at the metaphorical stake dance, eating those nasty, shortening-intensive cookies and wondering why she never gets picked to boogie. Come on, you can tell me. It's because I'm fat, huh?
Have you ever wondered where people go for help when they're addicted to 12-step programs?
Will you think I'm a complete elitist if I gently point out that the words are "pastime" and "slackard", being defined as "That thing we call blogging so we aren't accused of being the other thing."?
And yet, once I spellchecked this post, I got nailed for "slackard", and the suggested replacement word was, in fact, "slacker"!! So, when I say "dullard" (and you never know; I'm like a loaded Civil War relic. If you aren't careful, I may go off and spout archaic words like that without regard for the safety of those around me) am I supposed to now modify it to "stupid head"? I'm telling you, our mother tongue is going to hell in a hand-basket.
Which may explain the recent announcement that the word "ginormous" has been declared legitimate. Yep. It's a real word, Geppetto. Now it can collect survivors' benefits and social security and everything. Welcome to the English language, ginormous. I'm confident you'll fit right in.
OK, so while the guys were at General Priesthood meeting the other night, I finally watched the "Twilight" movie with my girls and MIL. Am I the only one who thinks that kid playing Edward looks like someone sorta smushed in the middle of his face while the clay was still soft? Doesn't he kind of remind you of those dolls people used to make out of old panty hose? Where, exactly, was all the hottiness?
And I'm sorry. That is the dumbest movie I've seen besides everything starring Adam Sandler, Will Farrell, and any rapper except Queen Latifa and Will Smith. Oh, and sports stars.
If my girls hadn't told me ol' Eddy was "sparkling" when he went into the sun, I would have thought the reason he stayed in the shadows was his embarrassment over his pasty, Northwest US complexion. And goodness knows, when we lived up there, my skin was so white it was practically translucent. Heck, I 'sparkled' all the time. Humidity will do that to you, folks.
I'm thinking of writing a second book. Actually, that's what all this blogging business has been about. But on reading past essays, I've discovered that I'm extremely, well, Mormon. But I also use biblical terms in moments of extreme duress, or when I think it will get a laugh. Or when I feel like it. Or when it's, I don't know, Tuesday. So now I'm starting to wonder if I even have an audience out there. Uh oh, here come the doubts......I need Whopper eggs. Stat.
Speaking of.....did anyone else notice that the Whopper eggs were sub-standard this year? I'm afraid next Easter I may have to switch to regular, old-fashioned eggs. You know, the ones with caramel in them...
On the other hand, this is the second Easter in a row where I haven't had to rake up fake grass off my rugs. Yes, young moms, I used a rake. As I told Lara the Overstuffed Opera Diva (that's her blog and her life, not a commentary on her girth. She's actually gorgeous.), it's a very useful tool in the house. In fact, for those of you who, like me, allow so much time to pass between vacuuming sessions that you forget what color your vacuum even is, a carpet rake is an archeological necessity. I've raked up entire layers of my kids' childhoods, layed down like sedimentary deposits on the living room carpet. ("Why look what I've discovered! Artifacts from the early Jacobean era! Air soft pellets and Spongebob underoos." Harrison Ford, eat your heart out.)
And on the subject of saying things on other people's blogs, do you ever leave a comment you think is so wise or so clever or so 'in the zone', you wish you'd kept it to yourself to blog about? No? Heh, heh, well, gosh, neither have I...
Random lines we use all the time but which kind of crack me up.
"We'd like to recognize President Whoziwhatsi on the stand."
("But since he retired, he's put on so much weight not even his wife recognizes him.")
"I'm visiting today with my three kids and my lovely wife, Muffy."
("I leave my ugly wife, Mutty, at home, chained to the radiator.")
"We pray that these two-thousand calorie brownies which are basically a culinary monument to lard and mint icing will give us health and strength or at least not be directly responsible when we keel over from obesity related everything."
("We already know they'll 'do us the good we need'.")
"I look at today's youth, and I can honestly say, I do not fear for the future."
("I keep one cyanide capsule in my pocket, and six in my food storage...")
"My heart is so full."
("But it's got nothing on my bladder.")
"I hate to see the time go to waste."
("And yet, here I sit, blogging complete drivel while the laundry pro-creates on the floor behind me.")
Dang. It's a good thing I didn't actually have a story to tell you all today. Otherwise, this post might have gone on FOREVER!
Have a lovely week! It's supposed to be 85 degrees here in Vegas.
That's right. Pool time.
(I tried a larger font size this time. When you get as old and blind as I am, you appreciate not having to press your nose into the monitor to read someone's blog. What do you think?)