...I just referred to myself as a BA in an email to Husband. I then went on to tell him that I will be referring to myself as a BA from this point forward, and a BAMF when I do something super awesome. I've decided that's my new thing. Until I forget it's my thing and move on to something else...
...I really want a sour cream gun. Can civilians buy these? If so, I'd like one in my stocking this year, sans sour cream. Every time I fix a baked potato or a taco on Taco Tuesday, I think, "Why is sour cream so hard to maneuver?" And that commercial is crap. Who wants a dollop? I want my sour cream spread out. I want the gun. And I may or may not make laser beam sounds when I shoot it on my food...
...Arts and crafts with a baby are hard. Last week, the ladies at daycare told me Spencer was advanced. Apparently, I processed that information as, "Your daughter is a savant." I researched lots of cute arts and crafts projects on Pinterest with high hopes of cuteness galore. The funny thing about Pinterest is that no one tells you, "A 10 week old can't do this project, you moron." So I bought paint and glitter and all the accoutrements. I ended up with a baby covered in green and red paint and seven failed attempts at homemade keepsakes. The dog was barking and running in circles, I yelled at Husband because he couldn't get our advanced daughter's feet properly on the paper to make perfect Christmas trees, it was a really fun family moment. No idea why I think I'm Martha Stewart. I much more resemble the SNL spoof version of Martha who puts pretty bows on bags of poo...
...I'm salty about all this talk of Mike Gundy leaving. Who knows if he will, but my gut is saying he will. Because this is what being an OSU fan is all about. I waited my entire life for us to be relevant in football. I stuck with this team one disappointing season after another. "Just give them more time," was my mantra. And then it came. 2011 was like a wonderful dream amongst fluffy clouds of touchdowns. And what do I get as a follow up? A bleh-filled 7-5 season with my coach bailing to an uglier orange. Thanks Universe. Thanks for bringing me back to reality...
...There has been a significant shift in the space time continuum. Our household can no longer yell during sports. I'm devastated. Yelling during sports is kind of my release of all stress in my life. When I yell, "Rebound!" or "Holding!" I feel better about life. My advanced baby doesn't feel so good about it. We learned this during Bedlam as Blake Bell rumbled into the endzone with 45 defenders hanging off of him. Then this past Saturday, as my Pokes lost the ability to tackle, my baby cried as if she had been stuck with a hot poker...in the eye. Imagine my mood as my football team was refusing to win and my baby suffering emotional trauma. Maybe she could read the writing on the wall that Gundy was leaving. It makes me want to cry too...
Use a pastry gun or a plastic sandwich bag to spread your sour cream. Also, I blame the daycare ladies for the craft disaster. Not your bad at all.
ReplyDeleteMy wife also uses a sandwich/ziplock bag. Put in sour cream, zip up bag, cut out hole in the corner of bag, use like a pastry bag. She does this every time she wants anything with sour cream.
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