You don’t have to wait for someone else to do it for you.
Wednesday, November 16th, 2011My main takeaway from The Blathering: if you want to see all of your friends, invite them over.
Archive for the ‘daily BS’ Category
Dimes, inefficiency, and mental hauntings by semi-historical figures.
Monday, November 7th, 2011Whenever I spot a coin on the ground – a nickel or a dime, maybe – and I find myself not BOTHERING to bend down and pick it up, I immediately chastise myself with some ferocity.
“LAURA INGALLS WILDER WOULD BE APPALLED.”
That’s what I tell myself, quite sternly. Can you imagine what she’d think, seeing me too LAZY to bend down to pick up a nickel? One time, she took a nickel to buy a whole new blade for her pa’s plow. A WHOLE NEW BLADE. For a NICKEL. And she had to guard the nickel with her LIFE the whole way to the store because it was a WHOLE NICKEL. And here I am, just leaving one on the ground.
I kind of think about Laura Ingalls Wilder a lot more than I assume is normal. Like when I’m driving somewhere, I wonder how I would explain to her that I am going to the store and back and I will be home within 30 minutes. Or that we’re driving to see Phil’s grandmother for Thanksgiving, about a berjillion miles, and it’s only going to take four hours.
She rode a WAGON to get places, people. With OXEN. If she rode in her wagon for four hours, and suddenly realized she forgot something at the house, she could just hop out because they’d probably STILL BE IN THE YARD. And if they got in their wagon and went a berjillion miles, like as far as it is from here to the Thanksgiving casino (we stay in a casino for Thanksgiving, thus the Thanksgiving casino – keep up with me here, people), she wouldn’t ever go home. She’d just unpack. Because a berjillion miles away IS home for her. Might as well START OVER, because the oxen are DEAD.
And you know how for some reason it’s become kitschy and cute to be into pirates or robots or ninjas or zombies? What would Laura Ingalls Wilder think, you guys? “Oh, I’m going to buy this blank piece of paper and frame it and hang it up because it’s got a caption about there being a ninja you can’t see! Oh, ho ho! That’s right in my wheelhouse of things that interest and appeal to me!”
WELL, one time? Laura Ingalls Wilder – she was just Laura Ingalls at the time – went to a birthday party in town, and you know what they served there? ORANGES. It was, like, the third orange of her LIFE, probably. So we’re all, “tee hee! Pirates! Bacon! Zombies!” and she’d be all, “Uh, I’m feeling a little scurvish, so I’ll just have a FRUIT, thanks.”
And don’t even get me started on the robots – Laura Ingalls Wilder would not GET YOU. You know Cap Garland, right? One day, you were struck by wondering what the hell ever happened to Cap Garland and you Googled it, right? Everyone’s done that. Well, CAP GARLAND WAS KILLED BY A ROBOT. Look it up.
Internet, ALMANZO DIDN’T EVEN GIVE HER A DIAMOND. And Kim Kardashian is getting divorced after 72 days. WHAT WOULD LAURA INGALLS WILDER EVEN SAY?
I’m not kidding, though. I mentally weigh in with Laura Ingalls Wilder’s opinion on my day to day life on the regular. I don’t know why. I just do.
The same is true for Frank Gilbreth. Do you know Frank Gilbreth? Have you read Cheaper by the Dozen or Belles on Their Toes? You should. The DAD in those books – well, book, because he dies – sorry, spoiler alert a couple of words back there – was Frank Gilbreth. And he was an efficiency expert. You know, he went into factories and stuff to show how time and energy and movements were being wasted, and came up with a set of concepts for each step of the process of completing a STEP. If that makes sense. Which it doesn’t, which is why you should READ THE BOOKS, I can’t do everything for you here.
So, throughout the course of my day, I’ll be doing something – unloading the grocery cart at the self-scan checkout, for example – and I’ll realize how FURIOUSLY AGGRAVATED Frank Gilbreth would get at the way I am proceeding with the task – bending into the cart, grabbing a single item, scanning it, placing it in a bag, repeating. Now, I don’t know WHAT the more efficient way to do that would be, but FRANK GILBRETH would know, and he would be hopping up and down with rage at my ineptitude, which would not be a wise idea for someone with a bad heart – oh, spoiler alert, he has a heart attack.
I have read the Little House books and I have read the Gilbreth books both several – lots of severals – times. If you can’t tell. Enough times that I find myself GENUINELY CONCERNED, OFTEN, about how Mrs. Wilder and Mr. Gilbreth would feel about what I do and the way I do things.
But seriously, you guys. Do you have ANY IDEA what Laura Ingalls Wilder could have done with a DIME at Olsen’s store? You think about that the next time you are too lazy to bend down.
Monster feet vs butt.
Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011Failing NaBloPoMo on the first day really takes the pressure off for the rest of the month.
*****
LET ME JUST GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY.
Penny was a duck/chicken (chucken?) for Halloween.
Do you love it? I love it. I love it so much that when we have her 6 month portraits taken this weekend, instead of being suckered into the “Holiday” backdrop they are pushing on me so hard, Penny is being a duck-chicken. A dicken. A 6 month old dicken.
*****
I haven’t done Penny’s 6 month post yet, but here’s a brief synopsis: she yells, she’s pleasantly fat, she can roll back to belly and shriek mightily once she arrives there.
She has a test at Phoenix Children’s Hospital tomorrow, one we fully expect to come up negative, but we like making her miserable, so we’re doing it anyway. You should just have us arrested. We’re terrible parents.
Don’t worry about Penny, though. She’s never had good parents, so she doesn’t know any better.
*****
You know, I haven’t been around here too much lately, and you know what it is? I’m enjoying spending time with my kid, which tells me that I’m finally starting to arrive in the time I’ve been looking forward to.
Noemi talked about this the other day, and I feel the same way – ending breastfeeding has really improved my relationship with Penny. Ending it was the right choice for us for a lot of reasons, and while I definitely don’t speak for everyone, it has really turned out to be extremely beneficial in a lot of different ways. The main one being, of course, that I actually ENJOY PENNY a hell of a lot more than I did previously.
With no struggling to feed her, no watching the clock for the pumping schedule, no washing pump parts, no waking up in the night to deal with any feeding-related activities — well, you know, it’s just better. Phil splits the feedings with me. I can leave the house without Penny and not worry about rushing back. I can leave the house WITH Penny and not wrestle with feeding her in public – like Noemi, nursing was never graceful or easy, positioning-the-baby-wise for me.
So, while I do believe that breast milk is certainly the best choice for a baby if it is available, not breastfeeding has been just about the best thing to happen to me since this damn wiener child was born.
*****
A few days ago, Phil accidentally left the lid of the washer up with our bedsheets sitting inside soaking in fabric softener. He asked me if soaking too long in the fabric softener would ruin the sheets, but I wasn’t sure – mainly because in my entire life I’ve caught the rinse cycle in time to add fabric softener about four times, so I don’t have too much experience in the field of softening.
He put the sheets on the bed and made up the bed for the one time it gets made each week and I didn’t noticed anything until the next day, when the blankets were pleasantly running amok and askew, as is my preferred state of the bed. On my side, right about there my butt usually is, the fitted sheet had a different texture than the rest of the surface. On closer inspection, it was full of tears, kind of like a run in pantyhose.
“So, it looks like the fabric softener did ruin the sheets. It really seems to have damaged the more worn spots – I’m pretty sure we’ll have to throw these out.”
“Oh, that’s where your butt goes. Your butt must have put extra wear on the sheets.”
“No way! My butt didn’t — wait, can that happen?”
(You’ll understand that here, of course, I had a moment of insecurity – see: double pear, Two Butt – and, okay, I had a bit of a gassy pregnancy, but not any more gassy than – okay, maybe SLIGHTLY more gassy than the average person, but could that really RUIN the SHEETS?)
“Yep. Your butt put a weak spot in the sheets.”
“WAIT a second. If you flip the sheet around, this spot is where your disgusting, scaly MONSTER FEET would be.”
“Oh. Huh. You’re right.”
“Ha!”
“But your butt finished them off.”
*****
I’m planning something and it’s kept me pretty busy lately, and I expect it to keep me busy for a while longer yet. I’m pretty excited about it, but as with everything I do and cook, there is still the possibility that it will all blow up in my face or otherwise go terribly wrong, so I’m not quite ready to share all the details here yet. If it appears that all is going to go well with my small test group, I will, of course, let the rest of you know about it. Once danger of explosion has passed.
I hope it works out, though. It’s one of those things that I talked about the last time I got around to writing something here. One of those things that you think is something that only other people do, but it suddenly dawns on you that you could do it to, if you wanted to. So, aside from the silly stuff like getting married and having a baby, this is inarguably one of the “biggest” things I have ever done. And if it goes wrong, it will be the biggest thing I’ve ever fucked up. And if it goes right, I AM A HERO.
Well, not a hero. More likely briefly, but SIGNIFICANTLY AND SINCERELY celebrated. Which is probably as close to hero as I will ever get, unless someone who weighs very little needs to be awkwardly rescued from an extremely and freakishly slow burning building and there’s really just no one else at all around who can handle it.
Plots, schemes, bun-biting and more.
Thursday, October 27th, 2011So, I’ve launched a plot, and I’ve been hatching schemes and other Scooby Doo-esque terms for making plans. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that this is something I can do. Not in the sense that it’s something I’m capable of doing, but more like something I’m allowed to do. Okay, and also a little bit reminding myself – or pep talking myself – that I’m capable.
You know the first time you realize you can do something that previously seemed like it was reserved for other people? Older people, or more adulty people, or just some other kind of people. Like when I bought a car on my own for the first time. It kind of blew my mind that I could walk into a dealership, pick a car, arrange the insurance and the financing and all of that, and drive away in a car. I knew that PLENTY of people bought cars, all the time. But it seemed like something other people did, not something I could do. Both in the sense of something I was ABLE to do and something I was ALLOWED to do. Some people let me walk into their place and drive away in a car. BLEW MY MIND.
So I’ve hatched this plot, because there was something I wanted and out of nowhere, it dawned on me that rather than wait around for one of the specifically ALLOWED people to arrange for this thing I wanted, I could just do it myself. And while I’m [pretty] sure I can pull it off, the fact that I can just DO IT is blowing my mind.
You know that feeling? Am I making sense? It’s like an assumption you have subconsciously, that you don’t really think about, that doing certain things is for OTHER PEOPLE.
OH, like taking a vacation. I’ve never taken a vacation that wasn’t with my parents OR wasn’t specifically to visit family. But Phil and I, someday, could decide to pack up our baby and go some place. ANY place. With no other family there, if we wanted. A non-family, non-visiting vacation. We could just DO that. Go to ANY PLACE. That’s ALLOWED.
But you have to know this feeling, right? I think it’s mostly attached to doing things that we probably consider to be “adult” things to do, for whatever reason, and I’m sure everyone has different things that they consider to be “adult” things. But my plot, it’s not even a specifically adulty thing to do. It’s just a thing that, for some reason, I kind of deep-in-my-mindly assumed was for specific, somehow designated people to handle. And I just suddenly realized that those people had the same, “Hey, I want this, I’m DOING IT” moment that I had a couple of days ago.
Aside from the big stuff – buying a house, bringing home a baby from the hospital, getting married – what kinds of things do you kind of subconsciously put in the “other people, not me” category?
*****
So, this happens now, FINALLY:
Honestly, I told Noemi a while ago that while the first weeks of babyhood seriously blow, blow to the point that you eventually start to insist that it absolutely CANNOT BE DONE and a MISTAKE HAS BEEN MADE, everything starts to slowly chug uphill, rollercoaster-style, once you see the first smile. Truly, it’s just steady improvement from that moment on.
So I have to say, I’m expecting NAPS and I’m expecting less VOMIT and I’m expecting less PUNCHING ME AWAKE now that we’ve got laughing on the regular.
*****
Me: So this cat lives at our house.
Phil: No, he’s not our cat.
Me: Yeah, he doesn’t live IN our house – he lives AT our house.
Phil: He doesn’t live here. He lives under your car.
Me: And you feed him.
Phil: Well, yeah. Not expensive food, though. I buy him the cheap stuff.
Me: And you make sure he has water.
Phil: It’s hot out there.
Me: I saw him sitting on the table out there, on the blankets, yesterday.
Phil: Yeah, I put them there for him.
Me: That cat lives at our house.
*****
If ever a moment of my life should have been video taped, it was just a couple of minutes ago. The dogs were all riled up, horsing around with each other, and the more they wrestle, the more wound up they get. Calming them is a huge pain in the butt. Sheldon leaps around like a deer, bounding around the house, and has NEVER had ANY concept of where any part of his body is in space at any given moment.
So a lot of times, I just pull Penny up onto the couch in my arms and let them wrestle around. I have to hold onto her tightly, because our couch is terrible and even with me and Penny on it, their insane self-flinging bumps the couch and sends it scooting across the living room.
Right when I thought they had settled down – they were somewhere behind me, at least, I don’t know where – I put Penny in a seat and leaned back to stretch, because this baby is turning into a LOAD.
I leaned back over the arm of the couch, kind of into a corner between the couch and the love seat where we have a small end table, arms up above my head, arching my back and getting WAY out there – you know, the kind of stretch where if you don’t stop, you KNOW you’re going to cramp up your entire back, but you don’t stop anyway because it’s too good of a stretch?
Anyway, yeah, I was doing that.
WHEN OUT OF NOWHERE – okay, not accurate – WHEN OUT OF FROM BEHIND THE COUCH, Sheldon, who was not as calmed as I assumed, BIT MY BUN.
Not my BUNS. They were and remain to this moment planted on the couch.
My BUN. In my HAIR.
And my NEVER NAPPING BABY had fallen asleep.
So I am trapped in a stretch, arched over the arm of my couch, and SHELDON HAS ME BY THE HAIR.
I started SCREAM-hissing, “Sheldon! Drop! Sheldon! Drop! SHEEE-HEEEELLL-DON! LET ME GO!”
Anyway, spoiler alert, he let me go.
This post mentions buttcracks, just like I did repeatedly at The Blathering.
Monday, October 24th, 2011I’ve been away. Not just away at The Blathering, which was this past weekend, but just kind of away in general. There’s been a lot going on for me, in terms of changes and shifting perspectives and I don’t know, some other words that imply that I was sitting on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy for two weeks (DONE, by the way). I got to talk about a lot of what’s been going on with some excellent women this weekend, so since I’ve now SAID it all, I feel like I can move on and start asking you about your in-laws and the assholes present in your general surroundings all over again.
*****
The Blathering basically ruled. I had a good time. I got some really good sleep. I had one of the worst headaches I’ve had in a long, LONG time, but rallied enough to sit around and talk about butts for a while. Thinking about it, I had some of the most over the line, foul, “I can’t believe we’re discussing this”-type conversations I’ve ever had in my life over the weekend. Women are DIRTY.
If you can, I encourage you to go to The Blathering next year. It wasn’t stressful or action-packed. It was just scheduled enough for time to see everyone, but plenty of time to break off and do the things you like to do, which for me usually includes a lot of sitting. Miranda was my partner in spotting a couch wherever there was one to be spotted, and I sat my way up and down South Congress.
If you can’t go to The Blathering next year or maybe just can’t wait until next year, I would encourage you to do this kind of thing with your Internet ladies anyway. I’m crazy impressed with the logistical skills of The Blathering organizers, but you could probably just pick a town and call three or four of your best Internet ladies in to lounge. And eat. You should do it. I am NOT a joiner, and blog-anything is NOT my thing, and I honestly don’t know why I decided this was the time, but I found the whole thing to be crazy beneficial in a lot of ways.
*****
I was in the Austin airport, shopping for souvenirs, and I felt someone standing behind me at the same shelf of doo-dads. Not one for shelf-sharing, I glanced over my shoulder and stepped away, walking back across the store and — OKAY NEVER MIND I CAN’T DRAW THIS OUT IT WAS SEELY BOOTH.
I left the gift shop and ran into Katie and Jen, flapping my hands and delivering my HUGE NEWS. We proceeded immediately to the gift shop, AS YOU DO. After having another peek or nine, I got on the phone. AS YOU DO. I got a text from Stephanie letting me know she was at gate 13, so I started that way to deliver my HUGE NEWS, but ran into Miranda on the way, sitting at a table and eating some ice cream. So I stood next to her and bellowed to my mom and sister, “SEELY BOOTH, YOU GUYS. HE WAS RIGHT BY ME. SEELY BOOOOOOOTH.”
THEN I decided to head down and get Stephanie to bring her to Miranda and I. I only got two steps away before I discovered Mr. Boreanaz sitting DIRECTLY ON THE OTHER SIDE of the sign next to our table.
SPECTACULAR.
So I sat back down and called Stephanie instead, to let her know what was going on by doing my best Chandler Bing impression.
Chandler: Eye app ina ah deem best ool ih ill ood ker.
Joey: HE’S TRAPPED IN AN ATM VESTIBULE WITH JILL GOODACRE!
Jen and Katie and Stephanie all eventually joined Miranda and I and our new pal Angel, and we all had ice cream and Salt Lick BBQ. Eventually we scattered, and then I was joined by Sarah Lena and Kate and Jess, all at various points.
I just spent more time describing the airport than I did The Blathering, but you know what, The Blathering was such a good time that even the airport experience was notable.
SEELY BOOOOOOOTH.
*****
For a long time, when I would brush my teeth at night, I’d wipe my mouth on Phil’s towel when I was done, and I would think, “Hee hee hee, you’re wiping your clean self with my toothpaste spit!,” because I am a hilarious prankster and I also always leave my towel on the floor somewhere around the house.
But after a few days or weeks or actually, probably months of this, I informed him of my stealth spitting and he said, “Uh… you know I use that to wipe my ass, right?”
Listen, no matter how much you try to tell yourself, “But at least it’s a freshly CLEANED butt crack…,” it doesn’t work.
*****
Here’s my baby:
“Um, it’s nice that you’re back and all, but where’s Dad?”
“My lip gloss? Smashbox Fresh Drool. Very exclusive. No offense, you probably can’t afford it.”
*****
OH MAN, THE SWEET PEA IN A POD DRAWING, YOU GUYS!
The winner is Thanks: Management! Hooray! (We went to high school together!)
I will put you in touch with Sweet Pea in a Pod.
EVERYONE ELSE, remember the discount code! TJ15!
*****
I was serious above. You should totally just get together with your Internet people. It’s worth it. It is. You know, there’s a $35 hotel on base, we have two couches and a recliner in which to sit, and I can drive to Target AND the other Target now, so… just putting it out there.
*****
You know what was great about being away for a bit? It wasn’t that I got great sleep (I did), or hung out with awesome people (I did), or had some amazing food (I did). It was how quickly and efficiently I got things done.
When I had somewhere to be? I showered, dressed, did my hair and then did my makeup. All in a row. All in one fell swoop.
But on Thursday, before I left? I was going to go have dinner with Brooke and Brie, and I had to start getting ready AT NOON.
NOON. To meet Brooke at nearly SIX.
Because that’s how long it takes. In the hotel? 45 minutes, start to finish. In my house? FIVE AND A HALF HOURS.
And that’s why I’ve been writing this post since 9am.
*****
So, which Blathering attendees do you want to hear some gossip about? I will make some up ON THE SPOT for you.
Eyebrows, television friends, someone else’s hair, and THE BEST KIND OF MONEY.
Monday, October 17th, 2011Number one: Don’t forget to enter to win a two pack of FuzziBunz cloth diapers from Sweet Pea in a Pod. Unless you don’t have kids in diapers, or don’t know anyone who has kids in diapers, or hate cloth diapers, or hate entering contests, or don’t enter contests because you never win anything and just don’t see the point of subjecting yourself to the crushing disappointment anymore. Then I guess if you didn’t enter, you didn’t forget. You just don’t want to. And that’s okay. But for the other people. This is a reminder. To not forget to enter. You have until… let’s say… Tuesday at midnight. I’ll pick a winner on Wednesday.
Number two: This is my new favorite thing right now:
I’m usually the drug store make up type, but I went and got my eyebrows done at Ulta the other day and they were running a special – free eyebrow arch with the purchase of $50 in Benefit products, which was THE MOST FRUSTRATING promotion EVER. I had two items I really loved, this eyebrow pencil thingie included. They totaled $48, and there was nothing else I especially wanted enough to pay Benefit prices when a $7 lip gloss is more my standard speed. So my choices were to pick only one of the two things I really loved (the other was this blush) and pay for the eyebrow wax for a total of $48, or add another item on, and of COURSE there are no $2 filler items, so I’d get the eyebrow wax for free, but would end up paying for $75 worth of make up and IS THAT A SAVINGS? NO.
Yeah, so, anyway, anticlimactic ending, I bought this eyeshadow in Leggy.
BUT THAT EYEBROW CRAYON THING. You guys. First of all, my eyebrows look nice for the first time in my entire life. They look so nice, in fact, that I can ignore the bright red spot of waxed-off flesh next to my right eyebrow. Second of all, this pencil-crayon thing is some kind of MIRACLE STICK. I am, in general, a rather grouchy-looking person, even in my best moods, but this stick thinger makes my eyes look open and somewhat PLEASED TO BE PRESENT. Internet, I can talk myself out of just about any purchase, especially luxury items for myself, especially ESPECIALLY luxury items for myself that I can convince myself aren’t that great, and I BOUGHT THIS even though it cost more than a DIAPER. Because it is that good.
Number three: I have now watched 115 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I expect to be caught up to the current season before I leave for The Blathering (VERY SOON!). The Blathering will be a nice temporary distraction, but the downside of marathoning several seasons of television will eventually come to call, and I will be bereft and lonely for a while.
Number four: I got my hair cut. I don’t like it, but it’s not a bad haircut. I don’t really know how to explain it. It doesn’t look bad at all. It looks kind of nice. It’s appropriate for my age and for my hair-grabbing child. It’s not especially hard to style and it’s pretty flexible if I don’t have the time to do it. I just… don’t really care for it. It doesn’t look how I FEEL. Maybe it’s that it looks rather grown up and I don’t feel like much of an adult most days. I think it looks like mom hair, but not in the way that mom jeans look like MOM jeans. It is not tragically unhip. I just find my head unappealing, but realize at the same time that no one else would blink at it. It’s like buying a shirt that you hate, but that you know looks good on you. Except you can’t just take it off like a shirt because it’s your head.
Number five: It’s a long and involved story that includes many different circumstances, but I haven’t been driving at all for a long while, and just recently started driving Phil’s car around. At my own suggestion. Which doesn’t sound like a thing, but again – long, involved, circumstances, etc. It’s a thing. I started by driving to the mailbox. Then I took Phil to and from work. Then I went to the BX on base and I bought a lightweight stroller for Penny. It had no front wheels and I had to get a different one, but I’m still considering it a largely successful errand. Then this weekend I drove off base, and then I did it again. Today, I am running both an errand on base AND taking PENNY to Target.
Target is basically in the same place I went yesterday, and it’s a straight shot from the base, and I don’t think I can get on the highway or go anywhere else at all yet, because the highway is still terrifying even when Phil is driving, and I still go in the back gate of the base rather than the front, closer to our house, just to avoid making a left turn. But I can go to the commissary, I can go to the BX, I can go to Target, and I can go through a drive through for iced coffee. So, basically, I am a free lady again, and it kind of rules.
Number six: I am very tempted to go back to Ulta and pick up some more Benefit stuff – Erase Paste, specifically. Or maybe an eyebrow pencil for my new fancy eyebrows that are kind of a little bit bald in some spots. Or maybe a really good foundation. I’ve never had a really good foundation. I thought about getting a lipstick, but I always end up getting the same color, because I can’t wear red and I can’t wear nude. I also think I’ve been using the same tube of mascara for a criminally long time. Basically, since I have been driving the car all on my own, I have been rewarding myself with prizes. I have been rewarding myself with prizes, and yesterday, I returned $95 worth of clothes and only spent $40 (on two identical pairs of shoes in different colors), so I basically have $55 of PRETEND MONEY.
THE BEST KIND OF MONEY.
So, Internet, if you were me – and you can watch the video below to put yourself in the right awkward, weirdly animated state of mind – what kind of prize would you buy yourself at Ulta? OR TARGET. I also like to shop at Target.
Diapers! For you! And an accent vlog! For the naggers!
Friday, October 14th, 2011
If you’ve been around here forever, you know I used to do vlogs all the time. Your sense of continuity and familiarity will be soothed to know that I have become no less awkward with time.
*****
Diapers!
Sweet Pea in a Pod is responsible for the awesome diaper package I am giving away today. The winner will be able to choose boy or girl colors. This is an AWESOME giveaway, so tell your cloth diapering friends about it.
As I mentioned in the video, starting on Sunday, you can use the code TJ15 for a 15% discount at the store (not valid on custom orders or ring slings).
You should know that while I do have an advertisement for Sweet Pea in a Pod in the sidebar of this site, I was not in any way compensated for doing this giveaway. I just really enjoy giving away cloth diapers, and I really like the owners of the shop. Good diapers, good shop, everyone wins.
Well, only one person will win. You know what I mean. We’re all winners in the sense that — look, just enter.
*****
Accent Vlog!
I maintain that I am an accentless individual.
Say the following words:
Aunt, route, wash, oil, theatre, iron, salmon, caramel, fire, water, sure, data, ruin, crayon, toilet, New Orleans, pecan, both, again, probably, spitting image, Alabama, lawyer, coupon, mayonnaise, syrup, pajamas, caught
And answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that curls into a ball when you touch it?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?
