Random Thoughts by Leslie Bosscher
The following are a few examples of little snip its (if you will) of random thoughts that may travel through my mind from time to time. Not enough detail to produce an entire blog, so I combined them to make them seem like one big, happy blog. See?
The pill bottles in my medicine cabinet is starting to resemble a spice carousel.
I live in the reality version of the show suburgatory.
I just discovered that disappearing at a party is called a "Irish Exit". And disappearing at an event without paying your portion of the bill is called a "French Exit". This is fascinating to me because I've always called my infamous disappearing act, "The Houdini". I am so anti-social when I'm out of my element, that I tend to disappear. If we're having a crowd gathered at my home, I'll say that I'm going to put my 'comfies' on and Jason knows that's 'code-ski' for "I'm out". If I'm at a dinner or a bar or a party...or what have you, I'll just leave. It's not because I'm rude. It's because I don't want to involve you in any long, drawn out process of having to say good bye. Plus, it's uncomfortable when people beg me to stay.
I am a Facebook bully. I so enjoy picking on someone via FB. Usually it's for spelling or grammatical errors, other times it's for being such an overt douche bag. I'm like the FB police. A FB friend was recently bragging what a 'genious' her prodigy child is. So my response was naturally, "...and yet her own mother can't spell GENIUS---oh, the irony". And another time a friend of a friend said on my page, "Lesie, when can we all go out?" I said, "When you stop calling me Lesie".
Mean girls grow up to be bitches and I'd love to report it gets better with age, but it doesn't. Here's my take on bitches. They're insecure, jealous and miserable---that's why they're bitches. There. Don't you feel better about that bitch you work with?
Jason opened the pantry last week and this is what I heard him say, "DORITOS??? SWEET !" As if he's not a 38 year old man who can go purchase doritos anytime he wants to.
Jason and I had an entire conversation recently about whether or not spouses could share a jail cell. We decided that if he and I were to ever be imprisoned together, our cell would be the homey, cozy one that people would want to hang out in. The prisoners on our block would be all, "We're playing hearts in B-343 tonight. They make the BEST toilet bowl fermented wine".
I H.A.T.E Christmas break. I've been claustrophobic in my own home for approximately 10 days and I'm beginning to twitch. My hands are raw from cleaning. I haven't left the kitchen in days. I am wandering from room to room to room just putting together whatever the children have destroyed. I'm white knuckling it until January 3. I'm sure I'll miss them when they're back in school. And by 'miss' I mean I'll be casually browsing magazines, waiting for my nails to dry.
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