i have no pictures for you of stupid stuff from my basement, nor do i even have tales of the cleaning projects of epic proportion. what i do have is a headache, blurry memories of school and babysitting, and a strange desire to clean the refrigerator with a toothbrush. which in combination lead to conversations such as these:
1.
(me, cooking dinner) hey mom, do we have one of those thing-a-ma-jigs? i want to thing-a-ma-jig the meat..
(mom, sitting at the computer) of course! its in one of those drawers there.
2.
(me sitting in the passengers seat) hey we're by those peoples house aren't we, those whats-its-faces people..
(mom, driving) the whos?
(me) you know, those people you baked that thing for that one time.
(mom) oh yeah! the whatsitsdiddles. they live right down there somewhere.
i don't know what more disturbing. the fact that my mom understands what the crap i am talking about? or that she talks the same way. egads, what is this what-ya-call-it coming to?
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You know whenever you get the need to scrub something with a toothbrush my shower can be your scrubbing domain. Hell Ill even provide the toothbrush, or a scoopula, or since your brain has left you a do-dash, whatever works better. You totally should have taken a picture of your mom at the computer and driving for your adventure story, I seem to know someone who loves to have pics with her tigergirl stories. I wonder who that could be. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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