That headline would be a salute to that one hit wonder from the 80s, the Information Society. In the words of Greg Brady, clowns never laughed before, and beanstalks never grew. Ponies never ran til I met you...uh yeah. Whatevs. I just had that song stuck in my head because I am such a huge fan of the Brady Bunch. Get ready for moi to ramble, because it's my blog and I can do what I want to do...
So, I had a teacher tell me once that there are only 2 guarantees in life-death and taxes. However, I beg to differ. It always rains when I straighten my hair. If I wear a white shirt, you can bet that a sharpie will chase me down or a mysterious ketchup bottle (even if I am not in the vicinity of ketchup) will explode on said shirt. If I have to pee, traffic will be bad. And I am at a fork. A very strange place indeed. I don't think this fork is stainless steel but rather plastic, and I have to pick a prong. Or maybe the prong picks me. But I am in a weird place and I must work through this. I can attribute it to being quirky, but not this stuff. It's a little bigger and deeper and probably correlates to another issue, and I can't really discuss this issue with anyone. So, I'm sure my subconscious will help me forge through. It is this pervasive, overwhelming feeling and I am not used to dealing with those. Is everyone thoroughly confused? Excellent! I'm glad I can help you there. I am confusing if I am anything at this juncture, but at least I look quasi decent in my array of fall boots.
The holiday season is upon us....YAY! Have I told you I'm not really a fan of the holidays? It doesn't matter though because my kids love them and well, I make sacrifices for them. We did have our house fully decorated for Halloween on August 29th (side eye to you slackers who waited until October to get those bats and goblins up) and our Elf on the Shelf, Miss Twinkle Lulu, will probably make a grand entrance this week. Perhaps she will show up at the Golden Corral on Thanksgiving (the tradition continues with the non-traditionalist). Maybe she will be swimming in the chocolate fountain? Can I expect to see her hanging Cirque du Soleil style over the mac & cheese??? One tree is up and inflatables are in the front yard. Can Santa help me through my issue? Maybe I need to write a letter to Santa?
Dear Santa,
Are you there Santa? It's me-no, it's not Margaret. That was a Judy Blume book. Help a sister out and put me back on the normal train. This detour is leaving me....flummoxed. Yes, sir I did pull out a word I haven't used in a while. Give the reindeer my love and tell Mrs, Claus that she should invest in a pair of skinny jeans. They do make you feel sexay, until your organs permanently shift to a new location.
P.S. Please don't send UGA to the Liberty Bowl.
Love,
Me
I wasn't funny in this one, no? It's cathartic for me to write. Gobble, gobble.
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