I wasn't feeling well last night, so my husband offered to get some take-out for dinner. He then asked our five year old son what he wanted to eat. Our son replied, "Pasketti." Then he corrected himself and said, "No, no, not pasketti. Sasketti." And again, "No! Not sasketti. I want Spapetti." We were just sitting there, waiting for him to come up with the right word, when he walked over to my husband and said, "Dad, I want chicken."
My daughter is grounded, and it's way worse on me then on her, I do believe. Anyway, grounded from TV, the phone and video games, she is pretty bored and is spending all her time baking. And making marshmallow fondant, which I find inexplicably irresistible. I may have to unground her just to save my waistline.
I slept through my alarm this morning. I woke up exactly five minutes before class started, shoved myself into the clothes I was wearing yesterday, took a brief moment to channel Flo-Jo, and sprinted. I was still late, but at least now I can convince myself I worked out today and eat a slice of cheesecake.
Irrational fear is when you push aside a hairball from the shower drain and then spook yourself with it two minutes later. Bonus points if you forget about it and scare yourself again after a few more minutes.
Despite lingering economic woes, my forehead continues to pursue its aggressive expansion agenda. Analysts believe that the forehead's success is based on its ability to make infill acquisitions in areas that had previously been dominated by its main competitor, the hair group, which has been hit by massive layoffs.
First, mommy should under no circumstances fill a brightly colored cup with whipped cream, sugar, carmel, mocha, and coffee, drink about two-thirds of it, and then leave it within climbing distance. Second, you never, ever, ever want to be anywhere near a toddler that has drunk a third of a cup of coffee. Ever. Third, coffee is a fairly effective diarrhetic.
How come anytime someone smells something gross, they smell it more? *sniff* "What's that smell?" *sniff* *sniff* "Do you smell that? It smells gross." Then everyone in the room starts to breathe deep. WTF is that?
I mentally weigh the cost of traveling against my free-floating economic anxiety multiplied by the square root of how much I have to pay in taxes divided by whether or not I think the world ends in 2012. It's hard to say where the math ends up.
The cost of a venti/bold red-eye at the Hilton Starbucks (with half and half and three sweet and lows)? Priceless. The look of the workers and hundreds of clients (or 20) of said Starbucks as I went screaming out of the establishment? Priceless. How I looked running at the Speed of Light with coffee flying everywhere and screaming as I crossed the street on a RED LIGHT?? Priceless. The look on face of the driver of the tow-truck that was hooking up my car in the no-parking zone of the bank across the street of the Starbucks as I CRIED and CRIED??? Priceless. The looks on the faces of the rich people from the HILTON patio who were watching in somewhat embarrassed amusement? Priceless. The cost of NOT having him tow my car? $25.00. CASH. (He was a cold hearted bastard.)
I ask, "What are your favorite foods?" He says, "I like cauliflower and broccoli. Yum!" I ask, "Then what are your least favorite foods?" With a scrunched up, icky look on his face, he replies, "Vegetables."
Every now and then do you decide to clean out your handbag? Do you then discover that you could lend a pen to every man, woman, and child living in your whole town if they happened to go to a community meeting without one? Does it then prey upon your mind that if you were arrested on suspicion of shop-lifting at the local newsagent that you wouldn't be able to explain the logic of why you actually have about 25,000 Staedtler medium point blue biros in your bag?
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