We have a winner! Eliza, you lucky duck. Here’s your itty bitty prize ↑, just to say ♥ Thanks for reading!! THANKS FOR READING!
See? I told you all it would be fun.
Now on to the business of being truthful and honest.
For the sake of clarity, I never really say, “up in my grill” or “fo shizzle” out loud. (Only when I’m writing about turkey pastrami).
Nor do I say, “Yo”, as in, “That’s my hot dog, Yo!” (Because we so often lose track of who’s hot dog is who’s in this house, you know.)
I never actually call anyone “Lovie”.
I never waggle my head and point my finger in someone’s face or behind my back and say, “Guuuuuuuuurl, you know it!”
I might type all of those things here though.
I may think them in my head during the day and never utter them out loud, because – quite frankly – they’d sound entirely ridiculous coming from me.
I tried the “Yo” thing one time in front of my sister. She looked at me like I just stepped off the crazy bus. I turned pink and my face felt all hot and tingley.
Yeah. I’m not cool enough to say “Yo” out loud.
I do, however say some of the following things in true and real life:
- “Mama lost her shiznit”. You know what I mean. It happens.
- “What’s the scoop, Poop?” Everyone always loves being called Poop. You should try it sometime.
- “What’s your dealeo, Yo?”. . . I actually do say Yo in that situation. Because it’s like one big long word: dealeoyo.
- “What’s up, Chicken Butt?” (thanks Eliza, for that one. . . ) People also love being called chicken butt. No, really. Try it. (snicker.)
I sometimes swear. Too much, most of the time.
I’m desperately trying to stop.
Unless stress can be severely reduced by one loud, intense, and forceful curse word. Then I’ll still do it – for the sake of my health, Yo. (Ya like that?)
I also like to throw these ones around from time to time:
- Scurred and afurred
- make hay while the sun shines
- six of one, half-dozen of another
- flopppin’ awesome
- peachy keen
- the bees knees, and. . .
- none of your bees wax
I know. It’s a bizarre mish-mash of genres and cultures right?
What’s wrong with me?
And, as the title way up there at the top suggests – I’m coming clean. I must make some corrections:
Somewhere along the line I said I don’t really like chocolate.
That’s just plain bull honkey.
I do like chocolate. Way more than I ever thought I did.
I’m sorry I lied.
I’m mostly sorry to me. How dare I miss out on chocolate for all those years?!
I said the Whole30 thing wasn’t for me. And, the full truth is that, while I don’t think the entire thing is for me, I do see benefits in the configuration of the meal map – as in: no calorie counting, dependable meal planning, keeping yourself feeling satiated, and being able to maintain a stable target weight without much added effort beyond following the map. So I’ll probably somewhat stick too it. Loosely. When I feel like it. Except for right at this moment, because I’m currently munching down half a bag of dried mangoes. Not. On. The meal map. Schucks. I kinda stink at this. (And now, I think I am forever and always done talking about the Whole30 thing. Done, I tell you!)
Another truth-be-told? My husband pointed out that when I said I would do almost anything to get him to quit his diet coke habit, I didn’t really mean it.
He says what I meant was that I would do almost nothing to get him to quit his diet coke habit.
I disagree. I would do lots of things. Like overhaul our daily diet for 30 days with him, and brew him a never-ending supply of fresh iced tea.
I see what he’s saying though.
Mostly, I wouldn’t do almost anything.
I’m not going to rob a bank, or lick a turtle’s face, or eat raw oysters.
I also won’t give nightly foot messages or fan him and feed him grapes Egyptian style.
I guess he was right. Mostly what I meant was I’d eat differently and I’d brew iced tea.
Darn. I hate it when he’s right about stuff like that.
And my voice? Well, it’s all these things. I’m different here than I am out loud. I say more things, I’m a little quirkier, I type things out that I wouldn’t ever dare speak, because I suppose there is protection in sitting behind a screen and not letting you hear the odd way my voice tries to sound all cool and hip-ish but actually just sounds dorky.
I say lots of things that are meant tongue-in-cheek, and I’m pretty sure you get that. . . right?
Sometimes I’m serious, sometimes I’m sarcastic. . .
You know. I think you know. It’s my voice. It’s in my head. Well, and it’s right here.
Let me know, Party Peeps. You get me, don’t you?
See? I just did it again.
I never say Party Peeps in person.
Although I think I might start.
I kinda like it.