A couple of weeks ago, we were taking about mashed boobs, when we received this comment:
I'm due for my yearly "mammo" as well. The smaller the boobs the more it hurts because at that point they're grabbing flesh from anywhere they can find it.
Which was immediately followed by this comment:
I forgot to say, I would be honored to be do a guest post on here. Just let me know if you're interested. Thanks again and nice to meet you all.
And as is our custom, Ellie and Beth and I started shooting rapid-fire e-mails to each other, filled with lots of punctuation and trepidation about how to handle a blog-related issue:
Who was this commenter? Why would she want to post here? And especially, “huh?”
And then we remembered that way back when we birthed this blog baby, we had envisioned that the masses would be desperate for a piece of our proverbial pie. We had had the foresight to include an invitation to guest blog right over there in our sidebar, see it?! And now here we were with a taker!
But who the hell is she? What if she sucks?
So in our separate (yet equal) worlds, we each clicked on Bernthis' profile, and checked out her blog and her video series, and then the e-mails resumed:
She so does not suck! She’s hilarious! Did you watch the fake crying thing?!
And then we quickly got back to the business of “how does this guest blogging thing work, exactly?” because although we’ve had several guest bloggers on Me and You and Ellie, they have all been friends and/or family members who were bullied into it, or who had the misfortune to write us an interesting e-mail, which we then pirated and turned into a blog post. So, more “huh?”
But darlings? We’ve worked it out, and we likey. Especially when the guest blogger is funny and articulate and, as described by MetroLA, a “smart and sassy playwright/comedian” who writes:
“I wanted to be a guest writer on this blog because of the tone. I can see that you are smart women with lives that are lived to the fullest and that is something I strive to do everyday and when I saw your offer, although it was from long ago, I thought to myself, "hell yeah. To attach my name to this blog would be a compliment from you to me. I'm always into hanging out with people with a positive spirit and would be honored to be a part of your "life" party”
like Jessica Bern did. Go ahead, just try and resist her charm:
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They're Idioms, We're Idiots
The other day I was at the grocery store. Out of pure laziness, I didn't bother to grab a cart since I only planned to purchase a few items. As I was walking towards the check out counter, one of my tuna fish cans dropped onto the floor, right at foot of this kid who looked to be around 15 years old.
As the kid/man-boy, whatever, grabbed the can and put it back on my pile of stuff I laughed and said:
JESSICA: Sorry, first day with my new arms.
to which he responded:
MAN/BOY: OOhhhhh, that's so great. You look great.
Okay, now I know that there are many people out there who could easily be described as "not the sharpest knife in the drawer" but as I watched this kid look to where my real arms ended and the prosthetic ones began, I realized "not the sharpest knife" just didn't go far enough to explain the kid's state of mind.
However, later that day, I got to thinking about all the dumb statements I had made in life and suddenly felt not only a new understanding of this boy but a kinship as well.
"What day is Cinco de Mayo?" I once asked a friend of mine
"What kind of animal is Toucan Sam?" I asked another.
"Don't try and pull the bag over my head", I once announced to my then husband.
(and my all time favorite)
"She was so scared, the hair on her BACK stood up" I said as I described a friend's reaction to a guy she thought was following her.
No, these are not made up statements. I have at one point in time actually uttered these very words to another individual and trust me, I was WAY OLDER than fifteen.
In fact, if I'm to be totally truthful with you, I must confess that the line about the bag over the head is not even close to the only time that I have butchered an idiom to the point where the person I am saying it to has been pushed to ask me, "What the f@#k are you talking about?"
And I'm not the only one in my family with this problem. Like heart disease or Cancer or even Excema, the inability to remember an idiom is an inherited trait that has affected every member of my entire family for generations. It is now at the point where we are all loathe to even take a stab at sharing a story, a thought or God forbid, give any advice using any type of idiom whatsoever.
Not that it stops us from trying. When my family and I talk amongst ourselves we will refer to an idiom just not in its exact form. For instance - not long ago I was talking to my sister about buying a new car. She thought it was stupid because I had just told her that for a yearly savings of a hundred bucks, I'd cancelled the call waiting feature on my phone and yet here I was, willing to add a car payment to my monthly budget simply because I feel like my Maxima is a total cock-blocker. Now the appropriate idiom for her to have said to me would have been, "you're being penny wise, pound foolish". Of course, I'm able to tell you this because I just got off the phone with a friend who was able to recite what the idiom was that I was looking for. Sadly, however, when I was having this discussion with my sister, the conversation went more like this:
MY SISTER: Well, you know, what is that saying about money?
ME: Don't be stupid or foolish or something...
MY SISTER: Yeah, right, uh... you're being foolish and something, something....
ME: Yeah, yeah, Wait, God, what is that saying?
MY SISTER: I don't know, just don't do it
ME: Oh God, it's killing me. What is the line..
MY SISTER: I have no idea. Just save your money. I have to go, Emma just told me
her butt is itchy.
Sad. So sad....