Last night we got home and I was trying to show my mother how to use Pinterest… and by “show my mother how to use Pinterest”, I really mean “facepalmed my way through the evening because holy crap when did she become so technologically slow.
(My mom was always the one fixing things when I would mess up something on the computer or typing my papers in school because I couldn’t type more than a few words an
(Fact: If it had not been for the discovery of AIM, AOL instant messenger, in high school, I seriously would still be hunting and pecking right now. All those typing classes we were required to take didn’t do one bit of good. Nothing gets you going like a typing war with a random stranger about something really stupid (now) but was so profound at the age of 14 that you had to hurry up and get your opinion out there [because you saw “Someone99 is now typing…”] and wanted to ‘let them have it’ before they hit send. Which was always fun because when you managed to send it before they finished, the “now typing” would go away, then come back a few times… which only meant that they had to delete what they were saying and start a new thought.)
Anyways, I really have absolutely no couth and my boob itched, so I reached on in, because I honestly thought she was way too engrossed in learning how to repin something than to notice.
Mom: “Are you just holding your breast?”
Me: “Um, no, mother… I had an itch, so I’m scratching it. Also I hate the word breast.”
Mom: “Ah.”
Me: “But maybe I should be holding it because I’ve got a major quadro-boob going on and need to buy a new bra. I’m literally spilling out over here. But only on the left side, because that one’s bigger.”
Mom: “I thought you just recently bought new boobs?”
Me: “Really? Boobs?”
Me: “Now you know why we never seem to have any money. I’ve been saving up.”
Dad (from his recliner): “We need the address of that doctor, go get our money back.”
[unsure if I should be grossed out, highly offended, or mad because he thinks I blew money on the boobs I did not buy and didn’t ask if there was some self esteem driven reason that I just had to have new boobs before I fixed my nose. Stupid nose. I hate it.]
Me: “Well, I sure hope that if I paid for new boobs they’d be a hell of a lot perkier than this.”
And then I promptly began gathering my things, because things were awkward.
Not really. It was just time to go because my mom goes to bed at like, 8:00, because somewhere down the line she turned into an old lady who really isn’t that old. Her computer freezes, because even though it was only 5 years ago they upgraded from DIALUP, the internet they have now may as well be CompuServe all over again. “Eh, forget it, I’m not messing with this thing tonight” she says. Then she sits back down and waits because “oops, but I didn’t log out.”
Me: “Um…. So?”
Mom: “Well then my account is just out there, open to whoever!”
Me: “Yeah not really and… who is going to hack into a Pinterest account?”
Mom: “Well you logged out earlier!”
Me: “Yes, yes I did. SO I COULD LOG YOU IN!”
Mom: “Oh that makes sense. So it’s okay then?”
Me: “No mom, you may want to be worried about the hacker who’ll repin a bunch of not-non-sew, chevron throw pillows in a color you don’t particularly like.”
Then I really did leave (to go find some nice 'homes' to put her in and because she tightened her lips and did this little head bob thing -that to me means “
ANYWAYS…
I received my copy of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir) by Jenny Lawson (aka TheBloggess) on Tuesday evening. I finished it last night and it was most definitely, one of the best books I have read in a long time. I don’t recommend it for over-holy people, but for those of us who understand that God has a sense of humor and doles it out -- He gave a good bit of it to Mrs. Lawson. I’ve been a fan of her blog for some time now and this was just what I needed! I highly recommend you go out and buy it RIGHT now and read it for yourself. Probably alone, because you will find yourself snorting from laughter most the way through. Unless you want people to ask what’s so funny and this would be a great, free marketing scheme in support of the book. Actually, read it in a crowd, that’s a better idea.
I got so excited because it is few and far between that I find someone who 1.) knows what in the hell I am talking about and 2.) will freely admit it.
When it would snow when I was little (which is not very often in Texas) my Bam Bam (grandmother) would bundle me up from head to toe. I’d have 564894161 socks on, cotton balls in my ears, with earmuffs, and a winter hat, a scarf that I am convinced may as well have been a poorly played murderer, and then when I was still barely able to move… out they came.
Freezer/Sandwich baggies and bread sacks.
A baggie would go over each mitten and secured tightly with a rubber band. Then used bread sacks would be placed over my feet. At that young age, I am sure I thought Mrs. Bairds was a shoe cover maker and not bread and donuts. Take that back. I totally knew it was a bread sack. Each of these, would also be secured tightly with rubber bands.
(Only picture I could find that was semi-close.)
I hated having these on, but there was no escaping it. If I wanted to go build a snowman (with the dirt and ¼ inch of snow on the ground)… there was no way I was going to get cold and wet. With all this trouble, the snowman was usually melted by 5 that evening (which coincidentally, is the same time the color started coming back into my hands and feet from the rubber bands.)
It’s just one of those things that is silly enough that some [unfortunate] people look at your like you are totally insane and maybe grew up ridiculously poor. (We weren’t rich, but weren’t poor either. I was spoiled.)
“Wait… you wore sacks… as your shoes?”
“No asshole, I wore them over my shoes so they didn’t get wet. Duh.”
(Aside from the circulation problems from the rubber bands, another downfall was how slippery those bags were. Thank goodness for those layers of clothing, or I surely would’ve had many a concussion.)
I’m always so shocked when someone doesn’t know about it. Kind of like when a person about my age (and grew up around Dallas) have no idea what or who Zoobilee Zoo and Mr. Peppermint were and instead talk about Power Rangers or Pokemon.
I want to kick those people in the shins.
This also made me really think long and hard about the fact that there is probably nothing you can think about, no weird quirk you may have, something you have done…. That someone else hasn’t done first.
Looking at one of my apps, iFunny, and Pinterest (and PostSecret before it was removed) there was always something that resonated with me. You know those things that make you say “ME TOO!!!” (like bread sack shoes.) It’s funny really and somewhat relieving to know someone out there is just a strange as you are.
Do a Google search of a quirk or question you feel is specific to only you. I can bet others have written about it first. It’s amazing just how many people actually look behind a shower curtain first, then are able to go pee. (And what would you do if you found one?) (I do. And I would probably pee myself.)
For me, I realized about a gazillion (exaggerated) other people sniff rubbing alcohol when they have a sinus headache. That’s me + a gazillion others killing brain cells, one sinus infection at a time.
I really could go on for days. Think about it. Seriously. It will blow your mind.
(What the heck was the guy doing who discovered you could milk a cow?)
Maybe I don’t want to know. But it’s fun to think about. What are some oddities you have that maybe aren’t quite as unique as you once thought?
Omg!! I just randomly looked this up since I haven't been on in awhile and was so excited to see that you have been blogging!!! I love your posts!!! Keep it up and I see another Bloggeress in the making. :-)
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