the smell of my desperation has become a stench

A Selection of Recent, Random and Wholly Unrelated Observations, Volume III

Sometimes when Jon opens a Snickers Bar and passes it to me I feel as naughty as if he were passing me a joint. There’s just no difference, except one makes me high, and the other one makes me paranoid.

I used to like Led Zeppelin.

Blondes have it better than septic tank poopy reds.

Styrofoam cups change the taste of gin martinis.

If I had enough money to be on MTV’s Cribs, I’d have an entire room covered in blubble-wrap, with bubble-wrap area rugs and a bubble-wrap recliner, and I’d walk around stylin in my bubble-wrap bling.

I’d totally believe in a Heavenly Father if Missy Elliot could be the Heavenly Mother.

Citrucel tastes better than Metamucil.

How many times do I have to go over this? When I ask if you would please get me a Coke, you’re supposed to ask me what kind of Coke, because I could mean a Sprite or a Dr. Pepper, you Yankee.

Pride is what you had, baby girl, I am what you have.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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