A friend informed me that I say amazing too much. He didn’t actually tell me that I say amazing too much, he was more passive-aggressive about it.
For ages I thought he’d been mocking an unknown irritating person who offended his ears by overusing the word, but only last night did I realize I’m that person! I actually went out of my way to say amazing more around him because I thought we were sharing a private joke. Looks like the joke’s on me.
And on him! I’m getting all aggressive-aggressive on him with this post. It’s my language of love.
From now on I vow to say amazing less (at least in this post, old habits die hard). It’s good practice to broaden one’s vocabulary and I’m up for the challenge. I just hope no one tells me I say fuck too much because my writing career, such that it is, would be over.
I love passive communication. It reminds me of the time I asked Scott for advice on how to tell someone he had stank breath. Scott, in his infinite wisdom role played it with me. He played the advice asker, me the giver.
Scott: Can you give me some advice on something?
Scott: I have a friend who has really bad breath. How do I tell them?
Me: (making up something politic, gentle and supportive).
Scott: That person with bad breath is YOU mothafucka! (and ran out of the room)
That guy is
amazextremely gifted at interpersonal communication.
I got around to remaking that ugly dress. The
amazgood thing about it being so huge is that it was pretty easy to eke another one out of the finished project.
This time I followed my Golden Rule of Sewing: Don’t Waste Time on New Patterns. Here’s what I did with the old ones.
And here’s the new dress, which I should have started with because it turned out
amaznice? I’m not on fire about it, I had to pick a slightly different neckline due to fabric constraints, but it worked! Even though I’ve made it before, I always feel a little trepidation when putting it on for the first time. I can’t help but be a little amazsurprised
I made this one just a skosh larger to give myself some breathing room.
AmazInexplicably, of the previous identical dresses I made, one fit a little tighter, so I put in a little wiggle room.
Zeb likes this dress because if you look at me from a certain angle, you can see my boob.
amazinformative post. Aren’t you glad you took two minutes to read it? Time to cut the crap.
I am so excited to have found this bracelet! As I was digging through a box for some stuff to purge, I found this garnet bracelet I bought at the Ponte Vecchio in Florence almost 15 years ago. I still remember that
amazmagical day. I was studying fresco cycles with the University of Michigan (doesn’t that make me sound so erudite?) and had an amazspectacular two weeks immersed in art, culture and food. It was the last trip I ever took alone.
I haven’t seen this bracelet for years, it was buried deep. It’s my absolute favorite and I always knew I would find it again.
Stuff that my bracelet was buried under, including a really ugly attempt at jewelry making (I need to find someone who wants to reuse the beads, Silly Putty, a sock with a hole in it, earbuds, an electric toothbrush, a book-light that keeps collapsing and a condom. After my last pregnancy scare freak-out, we decided to take fertility off the table, once and for all.
Featured image: What is it? It’s a doodle bug habitat that Scrotus made. Isn’t it