Because I don’t have time to post 50 pictures of squirrels or crap in the husband’s barn this morning.
John Oliver is coming to rescue me.
Technically he’s not a fictional character, but if you watch the show…. you know he’s a character all the same.
Of course with John doing the saving, I predict the rescue won’t go as planned and the kidnapper will have two hostages instead of one…
But at least I’ll be laughing while chained to that metal pole.
Who’s coming to rescue you?
It’s a conspiracy.
I know it.
Those damn red squirrels have been plotting and now they’ve got corporate behind them.
How do I know this?
Because yesterday I got this box from Amazon:
Flipping through O magazine the other day (I get it free, don’t judge) I realized Oprah and I disagree about a few things.
Most importantly, her list of must have items.
She might find these necessary and affordable, but I don’t.
Seriously? Bragging about your house manager Eddie and his cocktail mixing prowess is bad form. Especially when we peons are occasionally forced to drink cocktails from can.
Let’s forget the revolting sounding ‘flavor capsule’…. why in the world would I pay $350 to have a machine mix my drink.
My local pub’s bartender does a fine job and he never expects that big a tip.
$70 for a bottle.
To put alcohol and fruit in.
Call me classy, but a mason jar works just as well for a lot less.
$195 so my selfies can be better lighted?
I’m 55 and menopausal. No one wants to see that any more clearly than they already have.
Oprah redeemed herself slightly with this last pick.
It’s been a while since I shopped at Talbots, but I could probably rock a pair of these.
I love to word.
I love to read them, write them, and learn them.
And I love weirdo words most of all.
When you travel you hear words unique to certain regions and words used in different contexts.
Ya gotta love them.
So when I saw this the other day?
I knew I had to share.
I admit I’ve been known to make use of dingleberry, dicombobulated and kerfuffle now and then…. although I’m not nearly old enough to drop whippersnapper into a conversation any time soon.
In Maine we tend to say things are wicked. As in “That margarita is wicked good” or “That beer is wicked cold”.
We also can lose control of our cars and end up in the puckerbrush.
Mainers say ayuh when we mean yes.
We call submarine sandwiches Italians.
If you’re cute? We’ll call you cunnin’.
If something is the best? We’ll say it’s finest kind.
If you live far away from town? That would be the willy wacks.
And if you live really far away from town? That’s bumblefuckEgypt.
So educate me.
What words do you use in your backyard?