If, for whatever reason (and there really are lots of good reasons) I was annointed and/or appointed in charge of, oh... EVERYTHING in the whole universe, things would be far happier. And easier. And funner. And fairer. And friendlier. LOTS. For starters, here's a short list of what I'd decree:
Simply because A) I needed to put them somewhere, B) they're too funny to just throw away, C) it's been a slow afternoon and D) it beats the hell out of working on my deadline...
After a full night’s sleep, she wakens to discover THIS! Daylight.
About three years ago, Rick and I decided explore where in the world we'd be willing to live, if we could live anywhere. Primarily because it turns out we really can live just about anywhere, given both our jobs. And since we'd planned on selling our New Hampshire home in a few years’ time, it made sense not to limit ourselves to someplace local. Why the Hell not, we decided: let’s open ourselves to the possibilities!
A few months back, I read an interesting article on a website about the ten best ways to engage readers with your blog that, ironically, received no comments. It got me thinking... About that spam email I received on custom-made dentures: I mean, aren't ALL dentures custom made??! Then I remembered that company I once saw in Florida named WALKER, who rents wheelchairs. Which automatically reminded me of that time in Disney World, when I discovered a Braille map of the park - but it was located in the very back, near the exit (how the Hell are they even gonna find it??). Clearly, there's a whole lotta shit going on in my brain. Which likely explains why I sometimes leave the house without things like keys. Or pants...
MY friend, Alli, owns an amazing flower shop (which, by the way, has the BEST floral designer EVER!). My sweet hubby is frequently relying on her to add some color and love to my office when he's out of town, but every so often I stop in to grab a fresh arrangement just for myself. And when I do, I am aways tempted to grab a card and write myself a note - or ask them to fill one out for me when it's being delivered.
Last week, a Facebook friend posted a photo of a man thumbing through what had to be the largest book I'd ever seen, the title of which was A MANUAL ON WOMEN. Pretty funny, actually - but on second glance, I thought c'mon! A manual about women wouldn't really be THAT long, would it? I mean, if I ever were to pen such a guide, I'd keep things pretty brief and start with the basics: never use the words BIG and ASS in the same sentence, always offer wine when in doubt, telling us to calm down will only make things exponentially worse, look at us when we're fucking talking to you, and pick up your damned dirty undies. Helpful tidbits like that. I'd then follow up with some remaining guidelines to finish off the list. Just the important stuff, for the sake of brevity. Which, I now realize, would require about 35,076 more pages. Wow. Women are high-maintenance pains in the ass.
Two years ago, I'd never heard of Kim Kardashian. Didn't have a clue. I hardly watch television or read tabloids, so I had no prior exposure to Kim until folks started incessantly talking about her wedding and then - practically four minutes later - her divorce. I was all like, who the eff is Kim Kardashian? So I went home and Googled her. What I learned made me laugh out loud, then gack my lunch, and then decide I really like Kim Kardashian. For ten reasons:
Dear Never Daughter; I've never had the amazing pleasure of creating you, growing you, meeting you, raising you or releasing you into the great big beautiful world. You will never exist outside my own heart and mind. Still, the hole your absence has left in my life is tangible, at times cavernous and painful… I've greatly missed the myriad experiences of your life within mine, and the privilege of being your mother.
This morning I was talking on the phone with friend who was at work when she was interrupted by a coworker who came screaming into her office. Knowing that ours was not a work-related call, my friend abruptly ended our conversation, hurrying me off the phone with a terse yet totally expected, 'I have to go now.' I have to go now... How de rigueur. How predictable. How freaking boring. Really, if you want to stop people from boldly marching into your office during work hours with work-related… well, work, smack in the middle of a completely unnecessary yet fairly important phone call with your friend (I mean we were discussing when you were coming up for drinks and all, for crap's sake), you need to be more creative.