I start way more blog posts than I publish. I bet most bloggers probably do. My drafts folder is getting out of hand…just like the floor of my closet. So as not to waste these brilliant thoughts, I’m going to share them here…just the first lines or two or three..maybe a paragraph. Thanks to my blogger friend, Michelle, of Straight from Helle for the idea.
-What do people mean when they say “cat got your tongue?” Was there a time in history when cats wreaked havoc on tribes of people by ripping out their tongues? Seems like we’d have learned about that in school.
-I miss my close girl friends back in Dublin. They were the perfect mixture of insecure, haughty and self deprecating.
-The other day Jack said he wished that our tears were made of apple juice. That way we’d get a nice treat whenever we cried. I like that idea a lot. But it’d be an awful temptation if you were a recovering alcoholic and your tears were made of vodka.
-I always wanted to have a son named Jim. When people asked if it was short for James, I’d say “no, his full name is Gymnasium.”
-Do people who constantly dominate conversations ever realize that they’re annoying as Hell?
-I wish we could download fart tones the same way we download ringtones. Flatulence would be so much more entertaining that way. I bet Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “That Smell” would be a really popular one.
-It was really embarrassing when I realized that you’re only supposed to stop, drop and roll when you, yourself are on fire. Not just when you catch something on fire. Rather than rolling around on the floor, I could’ve just put the darn thing out.
-People back in Dublin seem so much more laid back than the tightly wound, overprotective parents here in Virginia. I can’t decide if it’s a Northern vs Southern thing or if people in rural areas are just easier going and don’t make such a big deal out of things.
The first time I took Andrew and Jack to the pool, we marveled at the moms applying layer upon layer of SPF 3,000 sunblock on their kids, who were wearing long sleeved swim shirts, floppy hats, knee length shorts and water shoes. “I think that lady’s about to pull out a paint roller,” laughed Andrew. (I wrote this right after we moved to VA. Since then, I’ve met lots of very cool moms.)
-On our mission trip to New Mexico, I met a girl with wide purple streaks in her hair who told me she had the gift of reading people’s auras. My first reaction was to ask if she could return it for something more practical like a crock pot. But instead I asked her what my aura was saying.
“I see bright, lively bands of orange surrounding you. You’re always happy. You have a sunny disposition.” I was flattered, yet skeptical, because I was wearing an orange t-shirt and it was a beautiful, sunny day outside. What if we’d met at a funeral and I was wearing a dingy straight jacket and had had Xanax for breakfast? -I wish the guy who’s working on my dishwasher would stop referring to it as “she” and “her.” And he talks to it when I leave the room. No one talks to my appliances but me!
-Thinking about all the hours I’ve spent staring into my closet, wondering what to wear, makes me think that nudists must have more common sense than we give them credit for.
-I’d love to get a job as a paint color namer. But I’d probably get fired because no one wants to paint their living room “infected mosquito bite” or “sweat stain brown.”
-I just heard someone use the expression “happy as a clam.” Are clams like little self help gurus of the ocean? I bet they write motivational books and give seminars on gratitude and embracing life. And I bet every time a clam gets caught in a net, the other shell fish are like “how happy are ya now? you pompous jackass.”
-I guess it’s a bad idea to eat Oreos while you’re licking your Christmas card envelopes. But, to be honest, it’s probably the closest I’ll come to sending out baked goods this year.
-I wish my friends would stop talking about wanting new boobs all the time. If I were to get breast implants, I’d want to get them six months apart. That way I’d be able to pay cash for them. And having a cyclops boob would make people really uncomfortable.
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But wait! There’s more!
Okay, there’s really not more. I just always wanted to say that.