Don’t you hate it when people pronounce Valentine’s as Valentime’s? Don’t you hate it when you have to wait in line forever at the grocery store, because everyone is in front of you with last-minute flowers? Don’t you hate it when people talk about things they hate about Valentine’s Day?
Well me too, and you wont have to experience any of those things today. Or at least for the next four minutes and thirty-two seconds because…
IT’S TIME TO WITNESS THE V-DAY COLLABORATION OF TWO DESTINED BLOGGERS!
Who: Adam of My Right to Bitch (also known as: dashing) and me, Becca (also known as: many other nicknames involving the faux color of my hair)!
What: A virtual date!
Where: Right here on this blog, a diamond in the rough sands of this wasteland we call the internet!
When: Right when you click play!
How: Divine intervention!
I used approximately five exclamation marks just now. That is how you know I am beyond stoked about this. So, without further ado or anymore annoying punctuation, here is our vlog baby.
Don’t you love a good conversation with your family on the Holidays? My family sure does…
Brother (from a room on the other side of the house): “Come help me, I don’t know how to wrap.”
Brother: “Come help me.”
Mom: “She said no.”
On shopping last minute…
Brother: “What can I get for Dad?”
Me: “He likes to be outdoors. You should get him a tent so he can camp out in the back yard.”
Brother: “He would probably love that.”
Me: “Or, a pillow for when he sleeps on the floor. I was joking about the tent.”
Brother: “I am going to get him slippers. If he doesn’t like them I will take them.”
Me: “I don’t think that is how it is supposed to work.”
Brother: “Do you have any money?”
Merry Christmas everyone. May all of your conversations be this deep.
[Let's pretend that this is an appropriate photo for this post, and you can just call me whatever the female Vito would be called. Or, just let me pretend I look this cool. Alright, I am a horrible phony. I haven't even seen The Godfather. ]
You know what I have seen though? A bunch of ultra-sounds and baby bump pictures. Yes, the infamous Booger is growing a tiny human these days. While I never expected we’d planning her reveal party for the sex of the baby this weekend, I also never expected to get so amped about baby stuff in general. And probably the least expected, but most incredibly exciting part of it all… she offered me the position of godmother.
Here in the south, godmothers are generally called the nanny and the godfather is the paran (I don’t think I can give an accurate phonetic spelling, so just pronounce that with your best French accent). When Booger called me to ask what I would prefer to be called (Godmother, Nanny, Aunt Becca), the whole life changing event became more real in my eyes. I can only imagine how she feels.
All of my friends know me as the one who was never overly concerned with settling down or marriage and definitely not procreating. The slightest thought of child-birth always triggers the “NOPE!” section of my brain. Even as a child, I never fantasized about my wedding or was much for playing with baby dolls that were promised to realistically defecate on me. I was more in to putting Ballet Barbie in her convertible and playing make-believe as a restaurant owner. No lie, I had boxes of faux meal receipts that I organized to keep tabs on my imaginary diner’s success. We had the best hot dogs. All the regulars said so. Read the rest of this entry
[When you meet the right store, you just know. It means never having to ask, "Where is the Bounty?".]
One of the main reasons I moved in to the apartment I currently live in, was because of the central location to my favorite grocery store, gas stations, and the blessing that is CVS. CVS always has treated me kindly. It has my favorite wines at a decent price. They have not only one but two actually functioning Redbox machines. You’ve got to love movie vending machines. Add a slot for dispensing popcorn and M&M’s and it’s on (but only if mixed together). Also, it is much more convenient than weaving through the grocery store when all I need is a little lion food and tiger litter. I will dodge the grocery store every time if possible, unless I have a guided list and more than ten items for which to hunt.
The first few trips to my new haven were just as delightful as I imagined. As things were going so well already, I quickly found myself envisioning a lifelong future developing for CVS and I. The perfect consumer-retailer union. That’s when, as it usually plays out in relationships (mine at least), the true identity of my beloved store began to slip through the cracks of its sleek ruby exterior. We had a problem. My CVS had been concealing a Mr. Hyde. The cashier. Read the rest of this entry