Now that my blog is almost a year old, I guess it’s time to finally admit I’m simply not a daily blogger. I try! I really do… but life has this nifty little habit of getting in the way of my blogging (or possibly I end up spending entirely too much time Googling and only think, “Hey, I should have blogged such and such,” when my eyelids start needing toothpicks to stay open).
Or maybe I just don’t care to blog about the normal-average-every-day. It is boring stuff, folks. Really. Like the other night, when I made beef stew? Awesome stew. The best ever! I used merlot wine and Rotel tomatoes with green chilies and basil. Interesting, right? Exactly.
But last night… ohhh, last night was fun. Last night, BabySis and I opted (of our own accord and without any drug-related assistance) to go Christmas shopping together. Wheee!
How can you not enjoy a complete and total lack of crowds (weird, right?) and the Chipmunks singing Christmas carols over the loudspeakers? It was like having a snow fight with the innards of a beanbag. Fun! Though I’m not sure if all the other shoppers truly appreciated my Chipmunks karaoke. Haters. The Christmas Spirit has obviously not yet Bonked them on the head (and for that I feel a small measure of pity for their souls).
Speaking of souls, though… there was this brief moment… So. Embarrassing. And yet, apparently wildly entertaining for my sister.
BabySis and I were in Williams-Sonoma. I heart W-S, especially their knives. I spent at least thirty minutes drooling over their wares (Wusthof 7” Santoku knife… Please! Santa! Please!) while BabySis shopped. Finally, she’d had enough with the waiting, forcibly peeled my face away from the knife case, and then dragged me to the counter so she could pay for some things… at which point, something bright and shiny caught my eye.
And then IT happened…
… the unfashionably timed arrival of my inner Veruca Salt. I swear by all that is swearable: a) I did not KNOW the essence of Roald Dahl’s character resided in the deep, dark depths of my soul and b) that she could burble up to the surface so quickly.
I feel I must provide a disclaimer to the following exchange, witnessed (to my mortification) by a very sweet Williams-Sonoma cashier: I had NOT been properly medicated and was shopping without the benefit of caffeine’s calming effects. Indeed, I’d only imbibed one cup of coffee the entire day AND had dealt with rascally spawnlings all afternoon. This particular circumstance usually results in my channeling my inner ADHD personality (which might also explain the wild Chipmunk Christmas carols karaoke).
Me (bouncing about in a manner not quite befitting my bra): Ohhhh… Look! Look! Look! It’s a little spritzer cookie basket with sugars and everything!
BabySis: Yeah, that is cool.
Me: Are you kidding me? It’s MORE than cool. It’s unbearably awesome. Oh! Oh! Oh! I could put little spritzer cookies on my cupcakes! They would look SO cute! I need this! Don’t you think I need this?
BabySis (wearing a look that said she wished she had the Psych Patrol on speed-dial): *crickets chirping*
Me: Seriously! I need this. Cute little cookies! On cupcakes! To. Die. For.
BabySis: Are you trying to tell me you want me to buy it for you for Christmas?
Me: Umm, yeaaaaaaaah. How’d you guess that?
BabySis: Ha ha ha… umm, noooooo. I’m not getting it right now.
Me: But I want it! I want it NOW!
BabySis (aghast): Oh. My. God. Did you just STOMP your foot at me?!
Me (turning as red as my hair and bereft of any decent quick-witted responses): Ummm, yes?
BabySis (turning to W-S cashier): Did you just see that? Did you SEE her stomp her foot at me?
W-S Cashier (definitely wishing she had the Psych Patrol on speed dial): *crickets chirping*
BabySis (turning back to me): I CANNOT believe you just stomped your foot at me. How old are you again?
Me (kicking at imaginary dirt on the floor): Umm, five?
BabySis: Oh my God. We’re going. You need coffee or something because you’re seriously LOSING IT.
Me (dragging my feet as she’s pulling me out of the store): But I really do want it….
BabySis: *BONK*
Me: OW! Was that necessary? Did you HAVE to hit me on the head?
BabySis: Yeah. It was. I did. Do I need to do it again?
Me: No. Geez, MOM.
This morning, amongst a fit of giggles worthy of a puddle, BabySis stated: “Damn, I wish I’d had a video camera last night. I SO could have taped that whole episode of yours and submitted it to TeamBufumufu for their latest invite. They’d have laughed their ASSES off at you.
And then I whacked her over the head with my coffee mug.
As punishment, she made me blog my dirty little secret to the world. Okay, so fine. I had a moment. And perhaps I was a little too spoiled as a child. Still, my Veruca Salt “inner demon-child” must have found her whirlwind tour of my psyche gratifying. She’s gone back from whence she came. The moment is over – something BabySis is eternally grateful for. (she made me add that)
BUT…
I still really do want that shiny little basket of spritzer cookie goodness. Do you HEAR ME, BabySis??? You left a bruise on my head, by the way.
Or maybe I just don’t care to blog about the normal-average-every-day. It is boring stuff, folks. Really. Like the other night, when I made beef stew? Awesome stew. The best ever! I used merlot wine and Rotel tomatoes with green chilies and basil. Interesting, right? Exactly.
But last night… ohhh, last night was fun. Last night, BabySis and I opted (of our own accord and without any drug-related assistance) to go Christmas shopping together. Wheee!
How can you not enjoy a complete and total lack of crowds (weird, right?) and the Chipmunks singing Christmas carols over the loudspeakers? It was like having a snow fight with the innards of a beanbag. Fun! Though I’m not sure if all the other shoppers truly appreciated my Chipmunks karaoke. Haters. The Christmas Spirit has obviously not yet Bonked them on the head (and for that I feel a small measure of pity for their souls).
Speaking of souls, though… there was this brief moment… So. Embarrassing. And yet, apparently wildly entertaining for my sister.
BabySis and I were in Williams-Sonoma. I heart W-S, especially their knives. I spent at least thirty minutes drooling over their wares (Wusthof 7” Santoku knife… Please! Santa! Please!) while BabySis shopped. Finally, she’d had enough with the waiting, forcibly peeled my face away from the knife case, and then dragged me to the counter so she could pay for some things… at which point, something bright and shiny caught my eye.
And then IT happened…
… the unfashionably timed arrival of my inner Veruca Salt. I swear by all that is swearable: a) I did not KNOW the essence of Roald Dahl’s character resided in the deep, dark depths of my soul and b) that she could burble up to the surface so quickly.
I feel I must provide a disclaimer to the following exchange, witnessed (to my mortification) by a very sweet Williams-Sonoma cashier: I had NOT been properly medicated and was shopping without the benefit of caffeine’s calming effects. Indeed, I’d only imbibed one cup of coffee the entire day AND had dealt with rascally spawnlings all afternoon. This particular circumstance usually results in my channeling my inner ADHD personality (which might also explain the wild Chipmunk Christmas carols karaoke).
Me (bouncing about in a manner not quite befitting my bra): Ohhhh… Look! Look! Look! It’s a little spritzer cookie basket with sugars and everything!
BabySis: Yeah, that is cool.
Me: Are you kidding me? It’s MORE than cool. It’s unbearably awesome. Oh! Oh! Oh! I could put little spritzer cookies on my cupcakes! They would look SO cute! I need this! Don’t you think I need this?
BabySis (wearing a look that said she wished she had the Psych Patrol on speed-dial): *crickets chirping*
Me: Seriously! I need this. Cute little cookies! On cupcakes! To. Die. For.
BabySis: Are you trying to tell me you want me to buy it for you for Christmas?
Me: Umm, yeaaaaaaaah. How’d you guess that?
BabySis: Ha ha ha… umm, noooooo. I’m not getting it right now.
Me: But I want it! I want it NOW!
BabySis (aghast): Oh. My. God. Did you just STOMP your foot at me?!
Me (turning as red as my hair and bereft of any decent quick-witted responses): Ummm, yes?
BabySis (turning to W-S cashier): Did you just see that? Did you SEE her stomp her foot at me?
W-S Cashier (definitely wishing she had the Psych Patrol on speed dial): *crickets chirping*
BabySis (turning back to me): I CANNOT believe you just stomped your foot at me. How old are you again?
Me (kicking at imaginary dirt on the floor): Umm, five?
BabySis: Oh my God. We’re going. You need coffee or something because you’re seriously LOSING IT.
Me (dragging my feet as she’s pulling me out of the store): But I really do want it….
BabySis: *BONK*
Me: OW! Was that necessary? Did you HAVE to hit me on the head?
BabySis: Yeah. It was. I did. Do I need to do it again?
Me: No. Geez, MOM.
This morning, amongst a fit of giggles worthy of a puddle, BabySis stated: “Damn, I wish I’d had a video camera last night. I SO could have taped that whole episode of yours and submitted it to TeamBufumufu for their latest invite. They’d have laughed their ASSES off at you.
And then I whacked her over the head with my coffee mug.
As punishment, she made me blog my dirty little secret to the world. Okay, so fine. I had a moment. And perhaps I was a little too spoiled as a child. Still, my Veruca Salt “inner demon-child” must have found her whirlwind tour of my psyche gratifying. She’s gone back from whence she came. The moment is over – something BabySis is eternally grateful for. (she made me add that)
BUT…
I still really do want that shiny little basket of spritzer cookie goodness. Do you HEAR ME, BabySis??? You left a bruise on my head, by the way.
That is so funny. I had one of these moments when I was staying at my Mum's the other week. I threw a complete teenage strop when she told me what she was cooking for dinner. Complete with whiney voice and everything! Hysterical :o)
LMAO!! I wish she'd had a video camera too!!
You know, Deb, somehow I just knew you'd see it that way. And you know what? A very tee-tiny, infinitesimal part of me kinda wishes she had too because I need to come up with a Bufumufu vid and I'm hopelessly LOST (or hopelessly chicken.. I haven't decided yet).
And to think.... you are the older and more mature of all of us sisters.. or at least you are supose to be... lmao... I still laugh at the look on your face.. hehehe
My maturity is broken. So many years being the oldest has finally worn me down. Did you buy it for me yet? Did ya? Did ya? *grin*