One more place for girls to yammer on…

Living at Home

Thanks, Mom.

This was a discussion my family had one night last week (During this discussion my dad was cleaning his guns at the kitchen table. He does this a lot. It’s probably about as safe as it sounds.):

Mom: Why is it so hot in here?
Dad: Because I turned the heat on, it’s 50 degrees outside!
Mom: Well if you guys got up and moved a little more, you wouldn’t be so cold.
Dad: You know Brandy, someday these guns are going to be worth a lot of money. If you’re smart, when I die, you’ll take them to a sporting goods store and trade them in for a winter coat. You’ll freeze around here without me to turn the heat on.


Mom had her own gem during dinner tonight where I had expressed frustration over a job interview that didn’t go well:

Mom (to my dad): One of our outlets isn’t working, pretty soon I’m leaving you for an electrician.
Me: No need, I can just date an electrician.
Mom: If you’re as good at dating as you are at finding a job, I’m screwed.


My parents are both great at a lot of things. Boosting morale might not be one of them.




Good Thing Aaron Rodgers Is From California

I love fall!

The season is finally here, although you wouldn’t know it by the crazy 80 degree weather today.

 (Tiny picture from cell phone. The pumpkin on my left will be carved up into something awesome in a few weeks. Stay tuned.)

Tonight I was listening to my mom and my aunt discuss small town gossip. Nothing worth sharing here…but they threw out a lot of names.

“Remember when our cousin Billy, ya know, the one that married Susie Smith before she became Susie Johnson and then got a divorce and married Ed Whosawhatsit? Yeah, that Billy. Well he had a son 40 years ago with his first wife Jennifer who has 4 kids from her first husband Hughie who later married the local shopkeepers mom.”

That’s seriously how the conversation went. I realized 2 things during this chat:
1. My extended family may be solely resposible for the insanely high divorce rate.
2. I can never, ever, ever date somebody within a 40 mile radius from this town. I am almost 100% certain that I am in some way genetically related to every male who lives in this county.


At Least It’s Not Sponge Bob

Before I go into tonight’s post, I just want to remind you all of something:

You will forget that Facebook changed their layout by this time next week. It’s totally fine. No need to keep bombarding me with your Google+ invitations because I’m pretty sure we all collectively decided to ignore Google+ months ago.

I also wanted to say, Happy First Day of Fall! Let the pumpkin latte drinking, mitten wearing, scarf wearing and Halloween costume shopping begin.

Naturally now that it’s fall, I’m making my Christmas list. If any of you happen to be a secret Santa of mine, let me offer a suggestion: this.

Tonight, I’m going to leave you with a thought on children’s television.

TV has arguably become more educational and nurturing since the days of Doug, Ren and Stimpy and Rocko’s Modern Life. But what are these shows preparing our youth for?

While watching Backyardigans with my niece today, I noticed a strange theme in the episode. The female characters (Tasha and Uniqua), were living in a volcano and demanding that the male characters (Pablo, Austin and Tyrone) bring them what they want.

What did they want? They wouldn’t tell the guys!

Instead of standing up to these demanding women, the guys scrambled to offer up the biggest and best gifts they could find.

In the end all the girls wanted was to be invited to the luau happening in the village.

Read: The girls just wanted a little attention.

Did the girls just ask for attention? Nope. They sat on a volcano, threatened to make the volcano erupt if the guys didn’t read their mind.

Gee. That doesn’t sound familiar to me at all.

(Thanks to a friend from Philly for showing me those handsome shirts, as well as helping me come up with the names of the best tv shows the 90’s had to offer.)

Not Even Close

Me: What are you watching?

Dad: Estrogen

Me *stopping to look at tv*: That’s Entourage Dad

Sometimes I Get Ahead Of Myself

Last Sunday I was walking through the living room of my parents house when I noticed something out of place. It’s not even mid-August and my mom has decided to bust out the pumpkin decor. (This ‘getting ahead of myself thing’, its hereditary.) Instead of complaining about it, I’ve decided to come up with a list of all the things I love about fall. It’s my favorite. Well…Fall and Christmas. And my birthday. More on those later…right now, fall:

1. Mitten weather. Does anybody remember Allegra’s Window? They had a great song about mitten weather.

2. Back to school time! Even though I’m not a teacher anymore, I still love this time of year. ” I would send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.” Bonus points if you can name that movie!

3. Football! Not because I like to watch the game as much, I just like to eat chili with a bunch of people who are watching the game and will sometimes chat with me during commercials. I do, however, love watching Aaron Rodgers.

4. Pumpkin flavored everything. Do I really need to elaborate on this one? 

5. Halloween. I have the best idea for a Halloween costume this year. I also want to go to Salem in October. Last year I got to watch Hocus Pocus in the park that it was filmed in! I called my brother and told him it was one of the top 10 moments of my life. He thought I was joking. I wasn’t.  If I had hot cocoa, it would have made the top 5.

Anybody else looking forward to fall?

I’m No Cowgirl

My first full day as a Wellsborian again was full of pretty standard Pennsylvania/Upstate New York fare. I find it pretty comforting that I have been away for over a year and a half and things haven’t really changed around here.

The first item on today’s agenda? Why a trip to Dunkin’ Donuts of course! In Massachusetts I couldn’t spit a watermelon seed without hitting a Dunkin’ Donuts. We only have one in this entire county. Because Dunkin’ Donuts apparently has some form of crack-caffeine in their coffee, it tends to be a pretty popular place. I saw no less than 5 people I knew well enough to talk to and probably a dozen more that I could name.  

After some unpacking the family decided to go to The Texas Roadhouse to celebrate my birthday. It being my first time at this restaurant, I wasn’t really sure what I was in for. A cozy place for a quiet dinner it is not. When you walk in the door you notice peanut shells everywhere! They decided it is perfectly acceptable to give each table a bucket full of peanuts and let them shell and discard as they wish. People clearly find this to be awesome. I’m just glad I don’t have to clean the floor.

Before any food ever comes you are served hot dinner rolls with cinnamon butter. They are delicious, but I’m not used to having something sweet as the start of my meal. This was definitely the first mistake. After a round of appetizers and a salad, I was full! It was all tasty, but it was a lot of food. Once the entrée came, I had no interest.

As I pushed my food around my plate memories from my childhood started flooding back. Does anybody else remember pushing their vegetables around on their plate to make it seem like you ate some? I don’t know who I was trying to fool. I was concentrating so hard on my food that I didn’t notice the group of employees that had gathered at our table with a saddle. Yes, a saddle.

“Is it your birthday?” Our waitress asked, motioning to the saddle.

Happy hop on!!


No. No it is not my birthday. No promise of cakes or presents was going to get me on that thing. Don’t worry though, they had a plan b. Our waitress grabbed the lamp overhead, shone it on my head and announced to the restaurant that I was there celebrating my birthday, and would they all be kind enough to “Yee-haw?”

Lucky for me, they were.

Red Cat

Just a few more days until I, cue the scary music, move back home. Who says you can’t go home? Well, I probably would have. My mom might, although she isn’t letting it show.

I have been trying to wrap my head around how this will actually feel. My life isn’t that wild and crazy, so I don’t have any habits that I will have to give up living at my parent’s house. No drugs. No drinking. Wait, I take that back. I’m going to be back in a town that sells Red Cat!! Yes, drinking. It’s wine that tastes like kool-aid though, nothing too hard.  (For all of my friends who don’t know, Red Cat is what happens when you take grape juice and add fairy dust and rainbows. It is so sweet. Not really wine at all, just deliciousness that sometimes gets you tipsy.)

What I am going to miss is being master of my domain. The kitchen is no longer ‘mine’. It’s my mom’s. If I want to have skim milk it will have to be a little ½ gallon that sits next to the family’s 2%. I don’t have a problem buying my own milk, I’m just having a hard time getting used to the idea that I have to share the space. Especially because, if you know my mom, she keeps the refrigerator pretty stocked. There might not be enough room for my milk or my chocolate chips that I started eating out of the bag when I had my own apartment.

Actual Olivia doll on left.

My room will not be my own either; my niece pretty much has run of the whole property. I love my niece, but stepping on Barbie’s and having her giant, scary Olivia doll stare at me while I try to sleep is going to take some getting used to.

The last time I was home I also discovered that the bathroom door does not lock properly. This will not do. You can only be walked in on by a dog so many times before you start waiting until he’s asleep to use the bathroom.

So maybe the first things on my to-do list should be to find a place to stash the creepy Olivia doll, a lock for the bathroom and make some room for my milk.

And where, oh where, am I going to keep the Red Cat?