My husband and I stood in the drugstore aisle (me nine months pregnant), surrounded by premature Christmas decorations, contemplating the most humane way to commit murder. “Billy,” I screamed just fifteen minutes prior, “There's a mouse in the nursery!” Visibly relieved to learn the source of my upset did not necessitate him personally delivering his first child, he lovingly reassured me “Don’t worry, it’s just a field mouse; all we need to do is set a trap.”
So, my twelve-year-old has been in high school for, like, five minutes and everything is, like, a simile and a question? Even stuff that’s, like, a metaphor or a statement is, like, a simile with a question mark? It’s, like, driving me insane!
It’s no secret that I have an appreciation for good wine and cold beer, particularly when I am socializing or unwinding from an especially trying day. This practice has never been a great concern for me because I know my limits and listen to them…that is until recently when all the news started taking on this Jeff Foxworthy approach to diagnoses: “If you have 1 drink a day, you might be an alcoholic. If you drink before 5pm, you might be an alcoholic. If you drink to relieve stress, you might be an alcoholic. If you drink to make your family more tolerable”…and so on…
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