Some of you have heard this.
I was watching Family Feud the other day and the host approached the contestant whose name was Nefertiti and asked her, "Alright, 100 audience members were asked this question. What are people afraid to ride?"
She pauses. You can actually see the cogs turning in her head. She has it!
Nefertiti yells out..........."A TIGER!"
The host is stunned. I am stunned and amazed. People do not ride tigers. They are tigers. They eat people. Has she seen people riding tigers? I gotta get a ticket to see that. WOW! It's the same thing as if she would have yelled out DINOSAURS!!!! I laugh about that every day. I need to meet her.
Needless to say, she and her family did not win the Feud.
Monday, August 25, 2008
On the Road Again
Hello,
So, I just came back from a road trip with my parents. The only thing that kept me sane was being in a separate car.
At our first stop I gave Mom the first of the 2 disc Patti LuPone Live concert. At the next stop I asked how she liked it. She said,
"Oh we listened to it. How old is she?"
"Why? She was the mom on Life Goes On."
"I know, but she said she had a son."
"Mom, what does it matter? The concert was recorded in the eighties."
"Oh, well I guess that makes sense then. Her voice is really scratchy."
"(!!!) What? No, it's not! She's Patti LuPone! That is a highly sought after CD and it is amazing!"
"Well, she's no Julie Andrews."
"No. No Mom, she is not Julie Andrews."
"But we got through it. What's the second CD like?"
"I'll spare you."
"Alright then."
Needless to say, it was a long trip. It's not that I don't want to stop every 45 min. to go to the bathroom or stretch my legs and collect various brochures about sites and attractions in West Virgina, BUT I would rather get to the destination in the time that mapquest told me and THERE IS NOTHING TO DO IN WEST VIRGINIA!!!!!
"You never know when you're going to need new highway maps"
"Mom, you don't live in those states. You can just look it up online. Why are you taking 5?"
"You never know who's going to want one. He-he!"
"Nobody. Nobody wants those maps. And no, no they will not make interesting points of conversation with Pastor on Sunday."
But other than that they were fine. We stopped at a rest stop that had a food court. TCBY, I hadn't been to one of those in forever! So excited! Upon entry my excitement had aparated with the Weasleys. The whole place was filled with people in Nascar shirts, missing appendages, and outfitted in Harley Davidson but driving off in an Oldsmobile. I was reduced to eating a sloppy Whopper drenched in mayonnaise. As I wiped it off Mom said,
"Wow, there is of mayonnaise on this. The guy who make the burgers must really love his job!"
"Well Mom, just think about it. He works at Burger King and loves his job. That's something."
"Well at least he has a job."
I gave her a "don't start with me woman" stare.
"Oh, I don't mean you!"
Traveling through the badlands of America really makes you appreciate living near a city with a multitude of radio stations. As my radio dial wandered from station to station it landed on this.
At a gas station I saw an old man in a baseball cap, jeans, and a tight-fitting, tummy tank top which covered his perky bosoms. No joke! He drove a truck and had a "lady friend". At gay bars and such I have seen my fare share of "alternate" lifestyles, but I could not stop starring. Hello, were in Ohio, aren't you supposed to be discrete.
So, I just came back from a road trip with my parents. The only thing that kept me sane was being in a separate car.
At our first stop I gave Mom the first of the 2 disc Patti LuPone Live concert. At the next stop I asked how she liked it. She said,
"Oh we listened to it. How old is she?"
"Why? She was the mom on Life Goes On."
"I know, but she said she had a son."
"Mom, what does it matter? The concert was recorded in the eighties."
"Oh, well I guess that makes sense then. Her voice is really scratchy."
"(!!!) What? No, it's not! She's Patti LuPone! That is a highly sought after CD and it is amazing!"
"Well, she's no Julie Andrews."
"No. No Mom, she is not Julie Andrews."
"But we got through it. What's the second CD like?"
"I'll spare you."
"Alright then."
Needless to say, it was a long trip. It's not that I don't want to stop every 45 min. to go to the bathroom or stretch my legs and collect various brochures about sites and attractions in West Virgina, BUT I would rather get to the destination in the time that mapquest told me and THERE IS NOTHING TO DO IN WEST VIRGINIA!!!!!
"You never know when you're going to need new highway maps"
"Mom, you don't live in those states. You can just look it up online. Why are you taking 5?"
"You never know who's going to want one. He-he!"
"Nobody. Nobody wants those maps. And no, no they will not make interesting points of conversation with Pastor on Sunday."
But other than that they were fine. We stopped at a rest stop that had a food court. TCBY, I hadn't been to one of those in forever! So excited! Upon entry my excitement had aparated with the Weasleys. The whole place was filled with people in Nascar shirts, missing appendages, and outfitted in Harley Davidson but driving off in an Oldsmobile. I was reduced to eating a sloppy Whopper drenched in mayonnaise. As I wiped it off Mom said,
"Wow, there is of mayonnaise on this. The guy who make the burgers must really love his job!"
"Well Mom, just think about it. He works at Burger King and loves his job. That's something."
"Well at least he has a job."
I gave her a "don't start with me woman" stare.
"Oh, I don't mean you!"
Traveling through the badlands of America really makes you appreciate living near a city with a multitude of radio stations. As my radio dial wandered from station to station it landed on this.
When I lay in bed at night,
I feel your arms around me.
My love for you is deep,
Jesus, I always want you inside me.
WTF! I know it must be tough writing songs about your love of J.C., but someone should have approached this female singer and said, "Huh, well now, this makes it sound like you're having sex with Jesus. Maybe we need to revisit these lyrics. Just a suggestion."
At a gas station I saw an old man in a baseball cap, jeans, and a tight-fitting, tummy tank top which covered his perky bosoms. No joke! He drove a truck and had a "lady friend". At gay bars and such I have seen my fare share of "alternate" lifestyles, but I could not stop starring. Hello, were in Ohio, aren't you supposed to be discrete.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Scenes from a Borders
So I am applying for jobs for a hot min. here at home before I move, and it is by far one of the most depressing things that has distracted me from the Olympics. I am working* on some life things here at a Borders and it might as well be 4:30 at Lenny's............I mean Denny's. Anybody? Hmm.
So seriously there are so many elderly people here. Call me old fashioned, but shouldn't they be home watching Matlock, making pudding, wearing comfortable shoes, waiting for the news, ie human interest stories, to come on the news?
There are many people walking by, pretending to read books-really listening to music, chatting up the emo coffee girl. I am sitting here with my ear buds in pretending to be listening to music, when actually I prefer people think I am so awesome listening to my own music AND typing on my computer that people would never think about bothering me. That hasn't stopped everyone.
( In fact I'm not listening to anything. I have a really hard time typing and listening to music. Not to self-diagnose myself, but I think it's a problem somewhere in the reptilian part of my brain.)
A week or so ago when I was here I saw an old man just sitting the whole time I was here. He was here the next time and the time I was here. He's always here. He pretends to be reading a book, charging his phone, but I know his secret. He's a conversation leech.
First it starts with the entrance of personal space followed by eye contact. Then the worst; mindless observations followed by patter, I hate patter. He's says with a Polish accent, " CHellou, chare chyou chold chenough tu buh chere?" Seeing as how I had a Polish ballet teacher, this made perfect sense to me and I responded, "Yes, are you. " After I pretended to be super busy and after a couple of sentences he sucked onto someone else, and in fact after he moved my computer cable(!) he's now asleep. The very idea is like a nightmarish look into my future.
Back when I was young, Borders was filled of possibilities for cruising the gay lovelies and now what. OLD PEOPLE! Go home, stop talking to me, stop smelling funny- it offends everyone! I had a better chance of meeting somebody in my parents living room. Honestly, I'm just going to kick it when I'm 35. Gay and old looks good on so few people.
*looking at Broadway sites
So seriously there are so many elderly people here. Call me old fashioned, but shouldn't they be home watching Matlock, making pudding, wearing comfortable shoes, waiting for the news, ie human interest stories, to come on the news?
There are many people walking by, pretending to read books-really listening to music, chatting up the emo coffee girl. I am sitting here with my ear buds in pretending to be listening to music, when actually I prefer people think I am so awesome listening to my own music AND typing on my computer that people would never think about bothering me. That hasn't stopped everyone.
( In fact I'm not listening to anything. I have a really hard time typing and listening to music. Not to self-diagnose myself, but I think it's a problem somewhere in the reptilian part of my brain.)
A week or so ago when I was here I saw an old man just sitting the whole time I was here. He was here the next time and the time I was here. He's always here. He pretends to be reading a book, charging his phone, but I know his secret. He's a conversation leech.
First it starts with the entrance of personal space followed by eye contact. Then the worst; mindless observations followed by patter, I hate patter. He's says with a Polish accent, " CHellou, chare chyou chold chenough tu buh chere?" Seeing as how I had a Polish ballet teacher, this made perfect sense to me and I responded, "Yes, are you. " After I pretended to be super busy and after a couple of sentences he sucked onto someone else, and in fact after he moved my computer cable(!) he's now asleep. The very idea is like a nightmarish look into my future.
Back when I was young, Borders was filled of possibilities for cruising the gay lovelies and now what. OLD PEOPLE! Go home, stop talking to me, stop smelling funny- it offends everyone! I had a better chance of meeting somebody in my parents living room. Honestly, I'm just going to kick it when I'm 35. Gay and old looks good on so few people.
*looking at Broadway sites
Thursday, August 21, 2008
She's just curious.
I don't mean to knock on my mom, she's a good person. She's..........just not quite on the wagon. As a child, I always was intrigued by the black wisemen. He brought a present, was a wiseman-so clearly went to college, and therefore was respected and got to stand with the other 2 in the nativity scene. Sometimes during Christmas, I see Mom look at the little dark skinned figurine and can feel that by letting him come to Christmas that was her civil rights tolerance allotment for the year.
The other night we were watching track and field for the Olympics, and seeing as Mom needs to fill every moment with nonsensical chatter, some very awkward things came up.
(After a race was over, many of the athletes were interviewed)
Me: Wow, they said he was from some poor place in Africa, his teeth are really white. How do think they got so white if he was poor?
Mom: I don't know. He's really dark.
Me: He's from Africa, he's black.
Mom: But from far away you can barely see his face. It's so dark
(She says the same thing about my Scottish Terrier, after that some of the Asian athletes are being highlighted)
Mom: His cheeks are really sunken in. Where did they say he was from?
Me: Korea, and I don't think it's a nationally recognized characteristic, I think it's just the way he looks.
Mom: Well, the other one looked like that too.
Me: He was from Japan. And Mom, they are all runners, they're all very skinny, they don't have a lot of fat on their faces.
Mom: Oh.
(Someone from Romania had just won a race)
Me: Wow, they have a really long last name. It has like 17 letters.
Mom: I know, I mean, how are we even supposed to pronounce that?
Me: Well, you can just........read it.
The other night we were watching track and field for the Olympics, and seeing as Mom needs to fill every moment with nonsensical chatter, some very awkward things came up.
(After a race was over, many of the athletes were interviewed)
Me: Wow, they said he was from some poor place in Africa, his teeth are really white. How do think they got so white if he was poor?
Mom: I don't know. He's really dark.
Me: He's from Africa, he's black.
Mom: But from far away you can barely see his face. It's so dark
(She says the same thing about my Scottish Terrier, after that some of the Asian athletes are being highlighted)
Mom: His cheeks are really sunken in. Where did they say he was from?
Me: Korea, and I don't think it's a nationally recognized characteristic, I think it's just the way he looks.
Mom: Well, the other one looked like that too.
Me: He was from Japan. And Mom, they are all runners, they're all very skinny, they don't have a lot of fat on their faces.
Mom: Oh.
(Someone from Romania had just won a race)
Me: Wow, they have a really long last name. It has like 17 letters.
Mom: I know, I mean, how are we even supposed to pronounce that?
Me: Well, you can just........read it.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
This really happened.
This entry is dedicated to Stacy Rogers
This is a real conversation that happened with me and my parents during and after dinner last night. Indeed, feel sorry for me.
(Before dinner, Mom, Noah, Graham-Scottie, and Spike-Boston Terrier are in the kitchen getting things ready.)
Me: Do you need help cutting potatoes?
Mom: Uh, sure.
(she walks past Graham)
Pee-yoo, dog! You stink! You need to get a bath! (All yelled)
Me: Don't yell at my dog.
Mom: What?
Me: Don't yell at him. If you want me to give him a bath say, "Noah, I think you should give Graham a bath tomorrow." Seriously he has no control over that.
Mom: Whatever! (like she's 13 or something)
(10 min passes, I don't talk to her, she feels bad about yelling at my dog, The Simpsons is on)
Mom: Bert sounds funny. Huh, he looks a lot like his dad. Doesn't he? They look a lot alike.
Dad: Well, yeah, they're related.
Mom: Well, what about that one with the blue hair ( pointing at Milhouse) Are they related? They're all yellow.
Dad: No Emily, his name is Bart.
Mom: Huh? What? Oh, Jake took me and Susie to Missouri to get cheep gas and then we went to the town where the Popeye author lives. There's a statue there- for Popeye, not the author. Did you know they based the movie on the town where he lives.
Me: You mean the Popeye movie with Robin Williams? The one that was set in a fisherman's village on the ocean? Not in Missouri. I don't think so.
Mom: What?
(an Obama commercial comes on, we watch TV during dinner to avoid Mom from talking about kindergartners with disabilities)
Me: I like Obama. He's like a new JFK. He's pretty and most importantly not an idiot.
Mom: Oh, once your grandfather heard that Obama was running for the Democrats, he said there was no way he was voting for a black man, so now he's voting McCain..........
Me: Well, that's not very wise.
Mom: Well, I always vote Republican. I would just hope that the Democrats could have picked someone less controversial.
Me: What do you mean?
Mom: Well, it's, with him, the fact that he's.....I don't even know how to have a conversation with you! I'm tired.
(after I was done screaming in my head, Dad was vacuuming the sunroom by hand with a Dustbuster (!), my dog-Graham hates vacuums)
Dad: Huh, he really doesn't like this.
( he chases my dog with the Dustbuster)
He tried to attack it!
Me: Well, it scares him.
(he continues to chase him with the Dustbuster)
Dad: He tried to hit the button!
Mom: What? Oh! How does he even know what it is? Noah, do you have a Dustbuster?
Me: He looked it up online.
Mom: What? Huh? Well, When I took them outside this morning, wow, your dog pees a lot. It's like 4 quarts. It takes like 5 minutes. Oh, and man do they not want to poop in front of eachother. Spike doesn't want to poop in front of him and Grah....
Me: I get it. Thanks, I understand.
Now this may not seem funny to you, but when you think of of all of the miscommunication and factor in that it all happened in real time, and the fact that no alcohol was involved- it's very funny......in a "oh, God take me now" type of way. And it happens everyday.
This is a real conversation that happened with me and my parents during and after dinner last night. Indeed, feel sorry for me.
(Before dinner, Mom, Noah, Graham-Scottie, and Spike-Boston Terrier are in the kitchen getting things ready.)
Me: Do you need help cutting potatoes?
Mom: Uh, sure.
(she walks past Graham)
Pee-yoo, dog! You stink! You need to get a bath! (All yelled)
Me: Don't yell at my dog.
Mom: What?
Me: Don't yell at him. If you want me to give him a bath say, "Noah, I think you should give Graham a bath tomorrow." Seriously he has no control over that.
Mom: Whatever! (like she's 13 or something)
(10 min passes, I don't talk to her, she feels bad about yelling at my dog, The Simpsons is on)
Mom: Bert sounds funny. Huh, he looks a lot like his dad. Doesn't he? They look a lot alike.
Dad: Well, yeah, they're related.
Mom: Well, what about that one with the blue hair ( pointing at Milhouse) Are they related? They're all yellow.
Dad: No Emily, his name is Bart.
Mom: Huh? What? Oh, Jake took me and Susie to Missouri to get cheep gas and then we went to the town where the Popeye author lives. There's a statue there- for Popeye, not the author. Did you know they based the movie on the town where he lives.
Me: You mean the Popeye movie with Robin Williams? The one that was set in a fisherman's village on the ocean? Not in Missouri. I don't think so.
Mom: What?
(an Obama commercial comes on, we watch TV during dinner to avoid Mom from talking about kindergartners with disabilities)
Me: I like Obama. He's like a new JFK. He's pretty and most importantly not an idiot.
Mom: Oh, once your grandfather heard that Obama was running for the Democrats, he said there was no way he was voting for a black man, so now he's voting McCain..........
Me: Well, that's not very wise.
Mom: Well, I always vote Republican. I would just hope that the Democrats could have picked someone less controversial.
Me: What do you mean?
Mom: Well, it's, with him, the fact that he's.....I don't even know how to have a conversation with you! I'm tired.
(after I was done screaming in my head, Dad was vacuuming the sunroom by hand with a Dustbuster (!), my dog-Graham hates vacuums)
Dad: Huh, he really doesn't like this.
( he chases my dog with the Dustbuster)
He tried to attack it!
Me: Well, it scares him.
(he continues to chase him with the Dustbuster)
Dad: He tried to hit the button!
Mom: What? Oh! How does he even know what it is? Noah, do you have a Dustbuster?
Me: He looked it up online.
Mom: What? Huh? Well, When I took them outside this morning, wow, your dog pees a lot. It's like 4 quarts. It takes like 5 minutes. Oh, and man do they not want to poop in front of eachother. Spike doesn't want to poop in front of him and Grah....
Me: I get it. Thanks, I understand.
Now this may not seem funny to you, but when you think of of all of the miscommunication and factor in that it all happened in real time, and the fact that no alcohol was involved- it's very funny......in a "oh, God take me now" type of way. And it happens everyday.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Mama Mia, Facebook!
Wow, I have never felt so loved withhout looking in a mirror!
Therapists should really reccomend facebook to people with depression. I joined just so I wouldn't have to get that face from people who ask me if I'm on facebook. You know, you did it to me, the "oh, you're not on facebook", face, with the downward slanting eyes...... You know who you are. Well, leave the hell alone. And by that I mean please continue your infatuation with me. I mean I knew I had friends, ones who were very fond of me, but all at once it's like a bath in a tub full of Jello.
I don't know what I'd do with a whole bath tub full of Jello, but Geeez wouldn't make you happy?
On that note I will discuss the spectacle of Mama Mia!(Don't think that I have poor grammar, the ! is in the title). There has never been more if an incentive to support the arts and go see a Broadway show. Mainly so that never happens again. Wow, I'm so sorry if you liked it but it was really not good. I wanted it to be so magical; tanned lovelies on the Aegean sea, Merryl Streep, Mama Mia!, everything. But alas, I was thinking of better ways to do it while it was happening. To say that the choreography was sophomoric would be to discredit any sophomore that could do a far superior job. Pierce Brosnan needs to get a dumber agent who can't make him believe that he should be doing a musical-homeboy can't sing. Couldn't carry a tune if it were in a bucket. And for future reference, unless you find your way back to being hot, please, leave your shirt on. I read bad reviews of it but, was hopping it would be like a frivilous romp on the beach. Well, on that beach I was looking for a boat to get off the island.
Therapists should really reccomend facebook to people with depression. I joined just so I wouldn't have to get that face from people who ask me if I'm on facebook. You know, you did it to me, the "oh, you're not on facebook", face, with the downward slanting eyes...... You know who you are. Well, leave the hell alone. And by that I mean please continue your infatuation with me. I mean I knew I had friends, ones who were very fond of me, but all at once it's like a bath in a tub full of Jello.
I don't know what I'd do with a whole bath tub full of Jello, but Geeez wouldn't make you happy?
On that note I will discuss the spectacle of Mama Mia!(Don't think that I have poor grammar, the ! is in the title). There has never been more if an incentive to support the arts and go see a Broadway show. Mainly so that never happens again. Wow, I'm so sorry if you liked it but it was really not good. I wanted it to be so magical; tanned lovelies on the Aegean sea, Merryl Streep, Mama Mia!, everything. But alas, I was thinking of better ways to do it while it was happening. To say that the choreography was sophomoric would be to discredit any sophomore that could do a far superior job. Pierce Brosnan needs to get a dumber agent who can't make him believe that he should be doing a musical-homeboy can't sing. Couldn't carry a tune if it were in a bucket. And for future reference, unless you find your way back to being hot, please, leave your shirt on. I read bad reviews of it but, was hopping it would be like a frivilous romp on the beach. Well, on that beach I was looking for a boat to get off the island.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Selective Memory
Hello,
Note to the readers: If you should find yourself ever making up a nickname that resembles the name, Prudie McPruderprude, please do not continue reading.
Here is something that no amount of schooling can teach you.
So, I was watching the Olympics today (men's swimming!) and suddenly one, then like some traumatic, bitch-slapping slide show I saw everyone I have ever slept with's naked body flash in front of me. WHAT WAS THAT! Every dimple, curve, errand hair, everything.
I shrugged it off and and watched the women's relay and BANG! It happened again! The good, the bad, the ugly. What the heck!
I wish sleeping with someone was like owning a digital camera. After your picture taking experience is over, you can look over the session and delete, delete, delete all the ugly and inappropriate ones away. Everyone wins!
Sad to say, that is not how it works. I would pay good money to get specific people out of my head. Really good money.
And not that I'm a whore or anything, BUT after a while you can start to see people naked as they walk down the street in their everyday clothes. (In my dance career everyone wears tight dance clothes- this may have contributed to my problem) "Oh, if his calves look like that you know what that means....", "Baggy clothes means just one thing- paunchy." He's thin.......... but has no butt, change is good."
I had a friend in school who was born so premature that the doctor had to cut her an ass crack. Seriously. I have never seen her naked but that is so vivid that I may just as well have. Geez! I also know a guy who was so preemie that his mom had to wash him in a Cool-Whip bowl, cause she was afraid he would go down the drain. Now as it stands, I have seen him naked, and in the shower I had the same fear. But now I hope to hear that he is face down in a gutter somewhere and just as the EMT goes to rescue him, he slips off the street into the sewer to start a life of decay among the rats and trash.............or something like that.
But I digress, I wish I could remember all of those little wars that happened in America that were not the Civil War(for Jeopardy) or all the words to songs I knew as a child(karaoke). Instead, I'm stuck with a brain filled with dimly-lit bodies with scruffy faces, no names, and all the words to the Family Guy theme song.
Note to the readers: If you should find yourself ever making up a nickname that resembles the name, Prudie McPruderprude, please do not continue reading.
Here is something that no amount of schooling can teach you.
So, I was watching the Olympics today (men's swimming!) and suddenly one, then like some traumatic, bitch-slapping slide show I saw everyone I have ever slept with's naked body flash in front of me. WHAT WAS THAT! Every dimple, curve, errand hair, everything.
I shrugged it off and and watched the women's relay and BANG! It happened again! The good, the bad, the ugly. What the heck!
I wish sleeping with someone was like owning a digital camera. After your picture taking experience is over, you can look over the session and delete, delete, delete all the ugly and inappropriate ones away. Everyone wins!
Sad to say, that is not how it works. I would pay good money to get specific people out of my head. Really good money.
And not that I'm a whore or anything, BUT after a while you can start to see people naked as they walk down the street in their everyday clothes. (In my dance career everyone wears tight dance clothes- this may have contributed to my problem) "Oh, if his calves look like that you know what that means....", "Baggy clothes means just one thing- paunchy." He's thin.......... but has no butt, change is good."
I had a friend in school who was born so premature that the doctor had to cut her an ass crack. Seriously. I have never seen her naked but that is so vivid that I may just as well have. Geez! I also know a guy who was so preemie that his mom had to wash him in a Cool-Whip bowl, cause she was afraid he would go down the drain. Now as it stands, I have seen him naked, and in the shower I had the same fear. But now I hope to hear that he is face down in a gutter somewhere and just as the EMT goes to rescue him, he slips off the street into the sewer to start a life of decay among the rats and trash.............or something like that.
But I digress, I wish I could remember all of those little wars that happened in America that were not the Civil War(for Jeopardy) or all the words to songs I knew as a child(karaoke). Instead, I'm stuck with a brain filled with dimly-lit bodies with scruffy faces, no names, and all the words to the Family Guy theme song.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
I had boughten me some happy.
Hello,
Yes, I understand the awkwardness in my title , but read on.
So, I was at H&M the other day and bought me some happy galore. Scarves, and sweaters, and vests, oh, my! It always works out that when you should not be spending money on frivolous things, everything makes so much sense to buy. At times I would actually think- huh, this will make me happy, I WOULD look good in this, I'm just going to get it, and I would actually, chemically feel that shopping endorphin release in my body-bliss.
Anyway on the way back to the men's section, a despicable 1/6 of the store-arg!, I passed through the baby/kids section and say a tiny pink bracelet on the floor. I doubled back and upon further investigation I realized that it was a medical bracelet for a small baby girl named Shannon. She was born 3 days previously! Honestly parents of Shannon, I believe in looking your best for cheap, as well as the beckoning call of H&M, but isn't that a little young for a day trip to the down town mall?
Since I am on a hiatus from life, when I got home to my parents house I showed my mom what I purchased that day. She received each of my goodies with a "uh-huh" or "well, I guess that's nice", until she saw a purple, v-neck, snap-up cardigan. She said, "And you're sure that's for men." (notice how there is not an inquisitive ? mark after that sentence, but a judgemental period) I had an instant flash of me smothering her with that very sweater that night, but I was really interested on how the sweater would fit into my wardrobe, so I let it slide with a scoff and a cock-eyed, "YES, Mother."
My Mom says "boughten" referring to the past participle of the verb bought. ex. I had boughten it. It always sounded wrong to me and it took my best friend(wad-up Kristy!) to correct her to a pause and to finally just say "purchased....you know what I mean!" She was telling Dad what she had been shopping for that day and said boughten. I naturally corrected her and continued,
"Mom, just because got turns into gotten, that does not mean that bought turns into boughten. Gotten is in the word begotten and that starts with a "b" and rhymes with the word boughten, but that doesn't make it a word either. Bought rhymes with rot, and boughten rhymes with rotten, and that also does not make it a word, especially because one of those is a verb and one's an adjective. It's less work just to say bought, just bought. I'm actually doing you a service, you're welcome. Bought."
Dad was amused with my tangent, but Mom responded that she had learned that in school and had been saying it for years and I and my friend were the only people to feel the need to correct her. Dad said that he had also learned the word, but because of his faith in my superior intelligence, it was probably one of those discarded words like "thee" or "twas". And I emerged victorious. HA, HA!
Previously to writing this, I went to Dictionary.com to see if it was actually was a word, and even though my spell check does not recognize it................it is.
Don't tell my mom.
Yes, I understand the awkwardness in my title , but read on.
So, I was at H&M the other day and bought me some happy galore. Scarves, and sweaters, and vests, oh, my! It always works out that when you should not be spending money on frivolous things, everything makes so much sense to buy. At times I would actually think- huh, this will make me happy, I WOULD look good in this, I'm just going to get it, and I would actually, chemically feel that shopping endorphin release in my body-bliss.
Anyway on the way back to the men's section, a despicable 1/6 of the store-arg!, I passed through the baby/kids section and say a tiny pink bracelet on the floor. I doubled back and upon further investigation I realized that it was a medical bracelet for a small baby girl named Shannon. She was born 3 days previously! Honestly parents of Shannon, I believe in looking your best for cheap, as well as the beckoning call of H&M, but isn't that a little young for a day trip to the down town mall?
Since I am on a hiatus from life, when I got home to my parents house I showed my mom what I purchased that day. She received each of my goodies with a "uh-huh" or "well, I guess that's nice", until she saw a purple, v-neck, snap-up cardigan. She said, "And you're sure that's for men." (notice how there is not an inquisitive ? mark after that sentence, but a judgemental period) I had an instant flash of me smothering her with that very sweater that night, but I was really interested on how the sweater would fit into my wardrobe, so I let it slide with a scoff and a cock-eyed, "YES, Mother."
My Mom says "boughten" referring to the past participle of the verb bought. ex. I had boughten it. It always sounded wrong to me and it took my best friend(wad-up Kristy!) to correct her to a pause and to finally just say "purchased....you know what I mean!" She was telling Dad what she had been shopping for that day and said boughten. I naturally corrected her and continued,
"Mom, just because got turns into gotten, that does not mean that bought turns into boughten. Gotten is in the word begotten and that starts with a "b" and rhymes with the word boughten, but that doesn't make it a word either. Bought rhymes with rot, and boughten rhymes with rotten, and that also does not make it a word, especially because one of those is a verb and one's an adjective. It's less work just to say bought, just bought. I'm actually doing you a service, you're welcome. Bought."
Dad was amused with my tangent, but Mom responded that she had learned that in school and had been saying it for years and I and my friend were the only people to feel the need to correct her. Dad said that he had also learned the word, but because of his faith in my superior intelligence, it was probably one of those discarded words like "thee" or "twas". And I emerged victorious. HA, HA!
Previously to writing this, I went to Dictionary.com to see if it was actually was a word, and even though my spell check does not recognize it................it is.
Don't tell my mom.
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