Tag Archives: random

Headlines From My House

There’s nothing like an eye-catching headline to draw you into reading a news story, right? That’s why I’m providing you with some Headlines from my House.

However, no stories are attached, only because I don’t want to incite jealousy as to how absolutely exciting my life as a swinging single gal really is.


Plot to Kill Spider with Foot Foiled by Thought of Spider Guts on Foot

Brilliant Editorial Composed in Shower Vanishes Upon Turning Off Water

Glasses Thought to be Lost Found Safely on Owner’s Head

Poll Reveals Advice from Ozzy Osbourne More Reliable than from Dr. Oz

Citizen’s Arrest Nabs Perp Using “flusterated” in a Sentence

Brain of Woman Wearing OveGlove Divorces Her After She Grabs Pan with Hand Not Wearing OveGlove… Again

Creature Under Birdfeeder Thought to be Rabid Badger Revealed to be Overfed Rabbit

Campaign to Launch Acronym for ‘So Happy It’s Thursday’ Losing Momentum

Mensa Letter ‘Lost in Mail’ After Woman Finds Keys in Freezer

Study Confirms 12 Years of Life Spent Looking for Matching Tupperware Lids

Final Jeopardy Question Answered Correctly; No Witnesses

Fashion Police Arrest Woman Found on Couch, in Pajamas, Eating Garlic Hummus on Friday Night

Decapitated Cat Toy Found Behind Couch; No Plans to Remove Body

Stepdad Contracts Flu. Mom Requests 6-pack to Help Deal with Stepdad Afflicted with “Man Flu”

Owner in Contract Discussions with Dustbuster in Effort to Improve Performance

Michigan Woman, 31, Cites ‘I have to shovel again’ as Reason for Insanity. Judge Accepts Plea

Bird Found Eating Worm in the Afternoon; Myth Busted

Wanted: Body Double to Stand in at Work; Must Resemble 12-year-old-boy and Excel at Feigning Enthusiasm and Productivity

Rug Burn on Elbows Healing Nicely Week After Diving Behind Couch Upon Hearing Doorbell

Missed Connections: You had snacks

After Unsuccessful Attempts at “Tear here,” Bag of Steamable Vegetables Slated to be Opened with Teeth

Planned Productivity Delayed Due to ‘Joan and Melissa’ Marathon

Rare Triple Axel Performed After Tripping Over Cat; Cat Not Impressed

SWF Seeks Anything to Love as Much as She Loves Pesto

After Witnessing Large Number of Adults Failing to Follow Directions, Kids Given More Credit

Squirrels Picket Outside House; Demand Variety in Local Seed Offerings

Shopper Leaves Target Having Spent Less than $20; Parade Thrown in Her Honor

Writer Attempts Humor with Blog Post; Pulitzer Prize Safe for Now

Like the blog? Buy the books.

Your turn. Give me a Headline from your House.

It’s the Little Things, Part 2

I wrote a post about those little things that simply make you want to freak out, so to speak. Big picture? They’re not a big deal. Small picture in that moment? THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER!

In the interest of appearing balanced in at least one facet of my life, I’ve decided to take the opposite approach and talk about a couple of those delightful surprises that can perk up your day. Big picture? They’re not a big deal. Small picture in that moment? THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER!

Let’s begin.

There have been a couple of times when I’ve spent almost a whole hour attempting to “shop,” AKA “buy nothing after destroying many piles of neatly folded shirts and vow to never shop for clothes again.”

On the rare occasion that I do find something that a) kind of fits b) I don’t hate or c) doesn’t qualify me for “What Not to Wear,” I usually end up not buying it anyway because I’m cheap and have a bigger budget for paper towel than I do for new clothes. But when I do take the purchasing plunge, there is no greater delight than getting up to the register and finding out that the item rang up on sale.

Well, I wouldn’t buy it if it wasn’t on sale, but I mean like, clearance sale prices! For me? On this shirt I spent 45 minutes pretending to try on over my clothes? It’s like the purchase was deemed acceptable by the universe and for that one brief moment in time, shopping isn’t pure hell.

The greatest lie I tell myself is that I don’t need to write something down, so when I actually remember the great idea I had either right before I fell asleep or stepped into the shower, it totally makes my day. (This is rare though, as evidenced by the content of this blog.)

Going back to clothes, how great is it to reach into your coat or pants pocket and find something like a $5 bill? I’ll tell you—pretty great.

In fact, sometimes when I put away my winter coats for the year, I will stick a small bill in the pocket as a little present for myself when the snow rolls around the next year…or when I remember it’s there during the summer and need $5 for the Farmer’s Market. Whatever.

What’s even better than finding $5 in the pocket of your coat? How about finding one more of whatever kind of food thing you’re craving you thought was gone forever — a piece of chocolate found in the cupboard, a container of frozen deliciousness shoved in the back of the freezer, one more piece of Shredded Wheat that fell out of your shirt when you stood up.

If you ask me, that’s like winning the lotto.

Because I’m a dinosaur, I do not have an iPod or anything similar to that. For that reason, it’s kind of awesome to get into my car and find my favorite song just started, meaning I get to listen to it in it’s entirety—singing at the top of my lungs like the car karaoke queen that I am—without driving around the block to hear the end or cursing the fact I missed the beginning.

Knowing people found my blog with “bedazzled squirrel life preservers,”  “it’s chickpeas, not dudepeas” and “Eminem wearing a babushka and shitkicker boots.”


Like I said, it’s the little things.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

Your turn. What are your good “little things?”

It’s the Little Things

We’ve all had those days when nothing monumentally bad happens, but yet there are a bunch of little things that simply make you want to absolutely lose your shit, so to speak.


Big picture? They’re not a big deal.

Small picture in that moment? The straw that broke the camel’s back. The last thing you need. THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER!

Let’s begin, perhaps with someone overusing CAPITAL LETTERS and exclamation points!!!

Anyway, I love my hooded sweatshirts. When it’s freezing outside and I want to pretend I’m a turtle with the option to retract myself back into my shell, the hood serves as my delusional means of escape. Plus, it’s warm.

But there are times when the string of my hoodie will mysteriously disappear into the depths of the hood itself. Sound the alarm! Call in the rescue squad! This is a traumatic turn of events, as it will then require me to somehow try and manipulate the string back to the opening through the use of tweezers and profanity.

By the time I prove myself as a hoodie hero and restore balance to my universe through the miraculous string rescue, I’m exhausted and ready to retreat back into the comfort of my cotton cocoon. I think I should start a support group.

Let’s journey down to the other end of the clothing spectrum and the socks I’ve already shamed.

If you’ve ever worn snow boots outside, you know the scenario. You come in, try and slip your boots off and move on with your life and find that your sock has been swallowed up into the depths of the boot. Of course you discover this when you pull out your foot and step down into the pile of snow that your boot has just left on the floor.

The only thing that makes this situation worse is when you go to put your sock back on and discover you have a jagged little piece of toenail that gets stuck on a string inside of the sock, creating a painful, snag-filled scenario or a new hole in the sock and your sanity.

Sigh…let’s move on.

Like most people, I enjoy a hot shower. What I don’t enjoy is turning off the water of said shower, discovering that although I’ve just spent 10 minutes in the direct stream of water I’ve neglected to rinse out my shampoo and that I also forgot to put a new towel on the rack.

The cat is no help, as you know.

Then there’s this food situation, and for me, anything that involves food is usually a highly-serious “situation” not to be messed with. There’s nothing more disappointing than cutting into an avocado and discovering that it’s a) 50 percent pit or b) bruised beyond belief. This can apply to other fruits and vegetables as well, but it will usually only happen to the one item you were REALLY looking forward to eating at that exact moment.

Put down the sharp kitchen objects and slowly back away from the counter. It’s not worth it.

And while I could add a million and 12 different technology-related items to this short list, I will narrow it down to leaving a very long and insightful/witty comment on a blog only to be confronted with a captcha. Not just any captcha, but one that completely resets the page—erasing your comment in the process—every time you fail the captcha (one that looks like an impossible Rorschach test, I might add.)

Adding insult to injury? Having to look up how to spell “captcha” in order to complain about it. At that point, it’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. The last thing you need. THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER!

Just take a deep breath and retreat into your hoodie. Everything will probably work out—except that flipping captcha.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

Letters I Probably Won’t Send


To the Man at the Dollar Store who kept asking his wife how much something costs:

It’s $1. Everything is $1. Beware, as your wife looks annoyed and might just throw a dull off-brand pair of kitchen shears into the cart. Sleep with one eye open.

And to your wife? Take a deep breath and count to 10. Thousand.

To commercials targeted at women:

While I understand the marketing idea behind making everyday situations appear a million times more exciting than they actually are, most of us are not fooled into thinking that using a whitening toothpaste will in fact make our teeth so white that our smile could land a husband or a small aircraft or that wiping up spills with extra-absorbent paper towel makes us want to sing.

I also don’t invite friends over to watch me dance with a miracle mop and then eat the yogurt you pimp out that the reaction of women in commercials would have me believe contains orgasmic properties and not just probiotics.

As for expressing my individuality, I don’t need to do it through pink pens or  feminine hygiene products packaged in bright colors with cool patterns, but thank you for the suggestion.

To the sock that falls out of the laundry basket as I’m walking up the stairs:

You might not think this is a big deal and that you deserve some “alone” time away from the crowd, but you have to understand the implications of your escape.

As I bend down to pick you up—basket full of laundry in my arms—it’s inevitable that at least two other items from the basket will also jump ship. I also have to pick up a towel and/or a dishcloth that has fallen while I’m down there to pick you up and the cycle just goes on and on.

You can see how distressing this is, and quite honestly, your behavior gives me reason to believe that you are why the divorce rate of my socks is increasing. Let’s work on this, little buddy.

To the cashier who said, “Enjoy your evening!”  as I left the store carrying my box of Q-tips and a bottle of oven cleaner:

I think it goes without saying that I’ll do just that.

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Don’t Be A Filbert

Lately I’ve just wanted to shut my brain off and avoid any sort of deep thinking whatsoever.

As a result, my tweets and updates usually end up being something along the lines of,  “If Bobby Flay doesn’t have another daughter and name her Sue, he’s not doing life right” and “I can’t help but feel that if quinoa were a person, it would be that friend that insisted you call him “Steff-on” and not “Stephen.”

In other words, deeply introspective stuff here people.

Side note: I actually know one person named “Steff-on” who despite interacting with me on and off for the past decade, still calls me “Amy” when we run into each other. I call him Steve.

Anyway, the quinoa (keen-wah) thing got me thinking that there are certain foods that carry with them a preconceived/stereotypical idea of how they would be if they were people—like the high-maintenance “quinoa” referenced above, who I picture pulling an eye muscle from excessive rolling at my delight in going to Target or drinking red wine from a box.

So let’s begin.

Wait. Another side note because I don’t know where else to put it: I realize a lot of non-veggie people think some of these foods are weird, but play along.

Don’t be a filbert.

See? There’s one right there! I picture a filbert—a kind of hazelnut—being like Dilbert, a clumsy nerd with no appreciation for rambling blog posts about certain foods. So I repeat, do not be a filbert.

Chickpeas—named as such because “dudepeas” didn’t have quite the same ring, they would be a real gas to hang around with and always willing to go for a dip. Because she comes from a mixed background—both Middle Eastern and Spanish—she’s sometimes referred to as “Garbanzo” and throws out that card when she needs to get into a hot Latin club.

Seitan (sey-tan)—I think the name of this mock meat made of wheat gluten says it all, don’t you? Odds are you would never hear of a Pope Seitan or Sister Seitan. And even though she might be nice, let’s be honest — would you trust a babysitter with that name? I think not.

Pepita—Also answering to the nickname “Pumpkin,” this often salty gal would be spunky and the life of the party. 

Pâté –She’s not that appealing on her own. As such, she uses a fancy pronunciation of her name—do NOT call her Patty—and tries to blend in with Pepita to appear more attractive. She would most likely date a “Steff-an” and go through life holding in all bodily functions. 

Worcestershire — (WUUS-tur-shur) This is the foreign friend with the name no one can ever pronounce. As such, they go by the nickname “W” or “that foreign friend with the name no one can ever pronounce.”

Prunes—Considered nerdy and old-fashioned only because they’re full of great information and not quite as sexy as their plum siblings. However, they’re dependable, get things moving and get the job done.

Tofu — Completely bland with a distinct lack of personality, willing to shape itself into whatever group is currently hip or trendy (can also cause intestinal distress to those with an intolerance for bullshit — and soy — such as myself.)

Kale — He’s become quite the popular dude since switching over from the traditional “Cal” spelling and establishing himself as a powerhouse of sorts. However, years of being misunderstood have left him a bit bitter, but a quick massage of his ego will leave him tender and much more enjoyable.

Oranges — Sigh…I picture Orange being like the seventh child to parents who have given up trying to be creative with names and resigned themselves to the obvious, kind of like “Junior” or “Tiny.” Orange will have developed a thick skin accordingly.

I could go on, but that would negate the whole “shutting my brain off” thing. So instead it’s your turn to bring something to this personality potluck in the comments.

Food. Personality. Go. Don’t be a filbert.

Sweet Advice

After careful consideration, I’ve decided to only take advice from chocolate—namely Dove Promises.

I’m not a big dessert person, but I do enjoy a little piece of chocolate every night—something I consider my chocolate closure on the day. As such, Promises usually wind up in my cart over the other mini treats due to the fact that you also get a little note inside the wrapper.

Let’s take a look.


There’s a big difference between being busy and being productive, and I’m trying to remember that it’s called “conserving awesomeness” and not laziness. So often I’m already thinking of the next conversation, the next meal, the next post, etc. that I’m not really “in” the moment.

Note to self—human being, not human doing.


I’m not that “daring,” so to speak, and I think it stems from an incident when I was little and pumping away on the swing set. “Someone” dared me to jump off and be like Super Grover from the Muppets. I had some good hang time, but landed directly on my tailbone. From that point on I carefully screened all my dares.

Thanks, Mom.


Unless you’re at a funeral, it’s hard not to smile when you see fresh flowers. I don’t randomly buy myself bouquets, but I spend money on my flowers because I find calm in nature—except for bugs.

Especially that one bug that somehow manages to keep circling my head while I’m walking even though I’m flapping my arms around like an idiot to get it away. But other than those laced with neurotic bugs, flowers make me happy.


Sometimes people look at me like I’m nuts when I smile at them—and no, it’s not when I’m flapping my arms around my head like an idiot to swat off the bugs—but I don’t care. A smile can make someone’s day.

However, this wrapper isn’t really advice and it’s a little bit creepy, no? I don’t really know this “Dove,” so how does “Dove” know what my smile looks like? (And honestly, it’s not that great of a compliment considering I don’t actually accessorize with anything more than cat hair at this point.)


GAH! My laugh? How does “Dove” know what my laugh sounds like? And now that I’m thinking about it, what’s with signing all these notes with “Love” and using an exclamation point?

I think things are moving a little bit too fast. All that I wanted was a piece of chocolate, not some sugar-coated stalker. One more chance…


Okay now, hold on. 

This wrapper is proof that “Dove” is not in fact a sugar-coated stalker, as they’ve obviously never read my blog and the “advice” that I spew. If they had, they wouldn’t make this ridiculous suggestion.

Now that I feel a bit better about things, I have no problem passing along the final advice I received:


Be it chocolate or flowers or simply a laugh, treat yourself today.

And per Dove’s suggestion, your bill is in the mail.

Sweet advice, indeed.

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Numbers Don’t Lie

Despite the fact that I have the attention span of an ADD gnat on speed, I can (and do) watch, listen and talk about sports—namely baseball and hockey—with alarming interest and insight.


But even I can admit to the ridiculousness at which sports are analyzed. Games that won’t be played for weeks are broken down and predicted based on nothing more than some windbag’s opinion and a bunch of irrelevant statistics:

“No coach that picked his nose with his left pinky on a Wednesday has ever won this.”

“The last time this pitcher ate 67 ranch-flavored sunflower seeds 20 minutes before the game, he went out there and threw a no-hitter.”

When the sun shines at a 56 degree angle and the manager hasn’t changed his ‘lucky’ socks in a week, the team goes on to win 74 percent of the time.”

For some reason, people put stock into the fact that a certain event went a certain way under certain conditions in the past. It’s not just sports either, as we like to know that “nine out of 10 dentists think toothpaste is awesome” and that “Lysol kills 99 percent of germs.”

But stats can be fun, so I decided to compile a few from my own “research” to share with you today. Keep in mind they’re subject to change and variation 79 percent of the time.

  • Jillian Michaels says, “Get some!” 63 times in the Level 3 “Ripped in 30” workout alone.
  • If you make a hot beverage or meal, there is an 84 percent chance of someone interrupting you to ask you a completely irrelevant question.
  • Despite advances in technology, 92 percent of office printers still can’t cancel a job before printing it and 73 percent of employees can’t transfer a call or use the fax machine.
  • A watched pot never boils, but turn your head for five seconds and it will overflow 82 percent of the time.
  • Around 59 percent of people only workout so that they can post on a social media site that they worked out.
  • If you buy a seedless watermelon, there is a 98 percent chance of choking on a watermelon seed while eating it.
  • 68 percent of yoga pants will never actually be worn for yoga.
  • The average person spends 4.3 years of their life watching the time tick down on the microwave while waiting for food to heat up.
  • 100 percent of people that complain about taking the skins off chickpeas are white women between the ages of 21 and 34.
  • If you are waiting for a telephone call and leave for 60 seconds, it will come through 99 percent of the time.
  • After eating one kernel of popcorn, there is a 59 percent chance of that kernel being stuck in your teeth for a minimum of two days.
  • 92 percent of people only use a synonym because they can’t spell the word that they wanted to use.
  • If you go to the store after the gym with no makeup and sweaty clothes, there is an 87 percent chance you will run into at least three people you know.
  • If you to the store after getting your hair styled, there is a 102 percent chance you will run into absolutely no one you know.
  • People who read this blog have a 100 percent chance of being inducted into the Hall of Awesomeness, which will be constructed upon sufficient sponsorships.
  • There is zero percent chance of that happening.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

I Didn’t Want to Publish This

This is a post I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to publish. Why? Because it means I didn’t win the Mega Millions drawing on Friday.


This is a bummer because I already had the post written for when I won.

“Hey guys! I’m on my own tropical island working on my exotic container gardens while tirelessly devoting myself to perfecting the slow motion ‘Baywatch’ jog.  Be back in a bit!”

It’s also a bummer because I need money and wouldn’t have turned into one of the 8 out of 10 winners I read about who go through their money in five years and freak out.

I can tell you I wouldn’t get weird. I would get awesome.

So while I don’t generally buy a ticket, the idea of that much money gets the attention of almost everyone, and if you have one functioning cell of imagination in your body, you’ve thought about what you would do with all that money.


First, I would hire a lawyer to handle weirdoes coming out of the woodwork and the details of my fortune. That lawyer would look exactly like Matthew McConaughey in “A Time to Kill” and I would force him to work topless and smell like either Clinique Happy for men or toast.

I would also work on a will, as now I would have something other than my collection of Jillian Michael’s DVDs to leave my family should I meet an untimely death by garbage truck returning home from making my bank deposit and/or passing out bread to wounded geese at the fowl retirement home.

Don’t laugh. Considering I won the lottery, the odds of the garbage truck thing aren’t beyond the realm of possibility.

Of course I would do all the things like pay off my house, take care of my mom and a few hardworking and responsible people I’m close to who wouldn’t let money mar those values. That’s a no-brainer, and most people would give that answer.

But what about after all that normal stuff is done and you still have Matthew McConaughey on retainer? 

That would be the fun part, as I could be a stay-at-home-mom minus the kids, do yoga to stay in physical and emotional shape, write an engaging and witty blog and oversee the management of numerous animal rescue centers I created instead of just making a small donation.

Once that was set and my hair looked fabulous because I could afford to go to a stylist, I would go around and do awesome things for random people—friends, strangers, those just needing a little lift. It sounds lame, but after I had taken care of the big items—and funded a Trader Joes in my town—that’s pretty much the thing I would most want to do.

It would make my heart happy.

I know, I know. There are things money can’t buy, like a prolonged life to spend all the money, a toned body, those authentic belly laughs that leave tears streaming down your face.

And I would still be cranky if it was nearing my feeding time, people would still annoy me when they say “conversate” and the dog would still pee into the wind.

However, these things would be much easier to deal with from my own tropical island working on my exotic container gardens while perfecting the slow-motion “Baywatch” jog (see above.)

Instead, I’m at home looking at the drunk squirrels doing somersaults in my waiting-to-be-planted garden and moving in slow motion because it’s Saturday and the week kicked my butt.

But while I still believe whoever said money can’t buy happiness wasn’t trying hard enough, for now, the squirrels will do.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

The million dollar question: Responsibilities aside, what completely ridiculous thing would you want to buy?

Why I Don’t Have a Stalker

Hello again.

I’m trying to deal with some issues in a “healthier” way than I want to, so I’m writing, but not about those things. Maybe I’ll write about those things in the next couple weeks if I don’t think it will bore everyone. We’ll see. I’m feeling wordy.

But right now it’s the weekend, and  not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I have a hot date with the shovel. Oh yes. I’m told I could get a good six inches, but then again, those things are always exaggerated. 


Or so I’m told.

The only dating I do is reading expiration dates on food.

Anyway, I don’t have a hot date and I don’t have a stalker. Why? Because I’m 154 percent sure that I would bore him to death after about two days.

During the week, my days are basically the same and involve the same route and the same activities. The weekends are similar, minus the drive to work and the occasional TV appearance that at no point included paparazzi or security guards—except to drag me off the set.

Pretty much knowing where I’m going to be might appear to be the formula for a stalker, but trust me. If parts of my Twitter feed lately are any indication, you can see why they would move on to someone with a social life beyond jilted geriatrics and gang-banging birds.

I think I’m safe.

  • For the record, it’s entirely possible to fall up the stairs completely sober. Multiple times.
  • Never ask yourself, “Could I make a bigger mess?” as you will promptly find out that yes, in fact, you can. At least if you’re me.
  • I need the Dog Whisperer to teach Chauncey how to not pee into the wind.
  • It’s kind of amazing how quickly I go from “nothing sounds good” to “why isn’t there more of this to eat?”
  • Today I’m going to replace the word “the” with “le” for awhile. Example: “A piece of le cereal just fell out of my bra.” Sounds classier.
  • Someone found my blog with “Abby + Gordon Ramsay = fuzzy pink gnome tiara” so I have that going for me.
  • Going to Walmart at 6am on the way to work saves the annoying people factor. However, you can’t brag about/show off your teeth. It’s a push.
  • Just spent 10 mins playing, “What the hell did I write on that Post-It?” I think I’m inventing my own language, written only in characters.
  • I’m still wondering if I will ever look at a man as passionately as I look at just about anything with pesto.
  • I think I killed my fake tree.
  • Going to write a novel about a young, successful, beautiful woman who achieves great things. What’s the opposite of an autobiography called?
  • I can’t be sure, but I think there’s some sort of winter bird gang initiation ceremony going on under my bird feeder.
  • Simon says: Shovel, food, couch, hockey game, food, football game, shovel, couch, food, repeat.
  • I actually moved things when I vacuumed today, so I’m basically some sort of cleaning Superhero now.
  • I didn’t win Miss America or a Golden Globe this weekend, but I did manage to watch football & catch up on “How I Met Your Mother.” I win.
  • Despite numerous verbal threats, this bug keeps lunging towards me. I obviously have a very brave adversary. This may take awhile.
  • My uncle called because he was at the bookstore and couldn’t find my book. It turns out he was looking for “Abby is Crazy.” Close enough.
  • Tonight’s quote from the old people’s home: “He might have left me for a woman 25 years younger, but that didn’t make his peter any younger. Have fun with that pickle, missy.”

Now keep in mind that these aren’t all my tweets or anything. I do actual stuff that goes undocumented. I also only tweet from my computer and not phone, therefore reducing the stalker potential even more.

But if you are so inclined to proceed with stalking, please bring a shovel and at least make yourself useful. If I decide to break out the fuzzy pink gnome tiara, I’ll let you know so you can jump back in the bushes.

Just watch out for the gang-banging birds.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

(I encourage this kind of stalking.)

I Don’t Get It

I realize the contents of a post filled with things I don’t quite understand could rival “Twilight” in terms of page count and opportunity for multiple sequels.

However, there have been a few specific things lately that have been brought to my attention—by me—that I want to just throw out there. Either you will explain them to me, or I will continue to make you feel extremely normal in comparison.

Here are some things I currently don’t understand:

  • Certain words that look like they should rhyme, like “wager” and “lager” or “mouth” and “youth.”
  • When people feel the need to explain why they were away from the computer for one day. Really? You need to explain that?
  • Brunch. While I understand the concept—it’s not complicated—why would you want to forgo being able to have two meals by combining them into one instead? I take any opportunity I can for a meal, so I don’t get it. I just know white people talk about it a lot.



  • People who constantly refer to days other than Friday as “Today is my Friday!” No, it’s your Wednesday (or any day other than Friday.) Just because you have the day off does not mean Friday is moving up in the week.
  • On that note, why are people so enamored with Fridays? Yes, I enjoy them, as it means I usually don’t have to go to work the next day. However, I still have to go to work on Friday and I’m usually beat down by the end of the week. In my book, Saturday > Friday.  TGIS!
  • Why I can’t knit a little sweater for my computer so that it stops freezing at inopportune moments, which would be any moment.
  • The obsession with CrossFit and how these fitness fads come and go so quickly the bandwagon should be cited for speeding.
  • People who think they have to make a dessert from scratch every time in order for it “to count.” They make box mixes for a reason people, as even though homemade is preferred, it’s not always practical.


A brownie mix, cupcake pans, a cutout cardboard heart and you have yourself a fun little dessert to take along.

  • How Twitter selects the “Similar to you” suggestions on the side. Sometimes I glance over there and seriously question the direction my life is headed if I am similar to some of those people. Then again, I also feel bad for whoever’s sidebar I show up in, so I suppose it’s a push.
  • Why the second I turn off the water in the shower, every single brilliant idea I have ever had escapes down the drain with the water.
  • Bloggers who talk about monetized page views, SEO, blog earnings, etc. For all I understand, they might as well be talking in, well, html code.
  • Sticking with the blogging thing a minute, I don’t understand why so many people expect every blogger to actually be a good writer. Good writers can be bloggers, but not all bloggers can be good writers. Once you drop that expectation and enjoy it for whatever it is—Ooh! Pretty pictures!—it’s much more enjoyable. If it’s not, you can move on.
  • Laugh tracks on TV shows. We have come a long way in terms of entertainment and innovation, yet they still think a forced laugh track in the background of a sitcom is necessary in order to cue us to laugh.
  • Why I can pluck out every freaking eyebrow on my face except the one eyebrow that I actually want to pluck. Yes, I need eyebrow wax.

There are a couple more, but as I was writing this I realized they needed a post of their own. Unlike my enthusiasm, apparently my confusion knows no bounds.

I don’t get it.

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So, what don’t you get?