Free-Range Fridays #7
It’s Friday! Do a dance. A vigorous one.
If you enjoy (or at least tolerate) my blog and have not yet followed me on Facebook or Twitter, please consider doing so because it raises my self-esteem for a few hours, possibly even an entire day. It also keeps you up to date AND you can converse with me and ask me questions like where I ordered my onesie because you really really want one.
This morning I opened the fridge and found this:
Last night I ate a piece of chocolate tart a little too late and stayed up two hours longer than I wanted to because my body is extraordinarily crappy at processing caffeine.
STILL. That does NOT justify The Man eating the rest of my tart save for a piddly sliver, especially considering we were gifted two Hail Merry tarts and he had already consumed the entirety of the other one.
See that little brown thing in the corner? That is how much he left me.
I shall have my revenge.
When he least expects it.
ALSO, The Man has been prancing around in these pants:
Aside from the obvious giant hole near his crotchal region, what you may not gather from the photo is that the only thing shielding your innocent eyeballs from his manhood is his POCKET. And sometimes his pocket isn’t there. And sometimes something IS there sitting quietly like a miniature cyclops taking a gander out of his window.
Furthermore, if your finger were to accidentally slip into this hole (I don’t know why that would happen but it COULD) it would come into immediate contact with his left testicle. Because under his hole-ridden jeans HE HAS NO UNDERWEAR ON.
I advise you to not look too closely at the following photo:
Yes, he has been exactly like this in public.
But he refuses to let the pants go.
So I’ve taken to sticking random items into the hole like sharpies and straws and other irritating but non-puncture-y objects, which makes his jeans far less aggravating and far more fun.
Which is what really counts.
NOTES ON POSTS
In reference to “I Am Not Proud To Be Afraid Of These Things”.
I failed to mention I also have a vomit phobia. I am greatly ashamed to admit that when one of our children vomits my maternal instincts are completely overridden by sheer revulsion. I even feel angry, as though they could have somehow suppressed the urge to upchuck, which is a completely unreasonable and terrible response.
As my husband says, I “freak out”.
If a child whines “I don’t feel good” or “I’m getting carsick” my eyes bug out, my voice takes on a shrill and panicked quality, and I throw plastic bags and buckets in their general direction as I run away.
My son once spun in so many circles that he threw up on the carpet. My children are no longer allowed to spin in circles for longer than five seconds unless they are systematically changing directions.
I once stayed up all night with my 2 year-old who threw up every fifteen minutes for eight hours. I caught her puke in my bare hands and should have been awarded a very large and very heavy trophy for what I had endured. I did not receive a trophy. It was very disappointing.
I am also an awful and useless friend to have around if you are going to be getting plastered. I will not carry you to the bathroom, I will not hold your hair, I will not dab the corners of your mouth with a wet paper towel, and I will not load your vomit bomb body into my car. I will, however, push you into the bathroom and run away with your purse. Not to steal it, but to watch it very very far from where you are.
I like to think if you were a very dear friend I would overcome my phobia and pitch in, but it has never been put to the test so I can’t know for sure. Let’s just assume I would be mature and handle it because I am a damned adult.
WORDS! (Week 7/50)
Here for your nerdy pleasure are 5 of the top 250 tough/frequent SAT words according to Sparknotes.com. Thank you also to Merriam-Webster and Dictionary.com. If I have used any of the words incorrectly, please do correct me in the comments. I would like to think I’m not fostering improper usage. That would affect my delusion of being a world-changing word martyr.
CREDULITY: [kruh-doo-li-tee, -dyoo-] (n.)
1. ability or willingness to believe something, especially on slight or uncertain evidence
JANE’S CREDULITY and extreme physical flexibility made her the perfect accomplice for the Banana Man’s insidious plan to steal all of Manhattan’s soap dispensers.
CUPIDITY: [kyoo-pid-i-tee] (n.)
1. inordinate desire for wealth or possessions
2. strong desire
THE BANANA Man’s cupidity made him obsessed with the rapid expansion of his bar soap empire and spurred increasingly reckless behavior. This resulted in the midnight bubble debacle during which he attempted to flush eight gallons of liquid soap down a toilet and was eternally banned from all of Manhattan’s clubs.
CURSORY: [kur-suh-ree] (adj.)
1. rapidly and often superficially performed or produced
THOUGH THE janitor was only able to provide a cursory description of the thief, the police easily narrowed it down as there were only 25 men on the streets of New York known to frolic about in full banana suits.
DECRY: [dih-krahy] (v.)
1. to speak disparagingly of; denounce as faulty or worthless; express censure of
NEW YORKERS began to decry the Banana Man’s soaps as the phallic bars not only made their hands excessively sticky, but were also linked to a 5000% increase in wild monkey attacks.
DEFILE: [dih-fahyl] (v.)
1. to corrupt the purity or perfection of
2. to violate the chastity of: deflower
3. to make physically unclean especially with something unpleasant or contaminating
4. to violate the sanctity of: desecrate
5. sully, dishonor
THE BANANA Man had declared to Jane that utilizing ingredients other than bananas would defile the purity of his product. As the jeers of an angry mob and the screeching of monkeys grew increasingly louder beyond his penthouse walls, she wondered for a brief moment if his soaps could possibly have benefitted from the addition of ingredients that actually cleansed skin.
Now it’s YOUR TURN to create memorable sentences in the comments below. GO!