So many adventures. So few times.

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My life is pretty dull. I play with a toddler, watch a lot of Yo Gabba Gabba and experiment with the crock pot. I have no bed time and I find humor in Laffy Taffy jokes. Conan O'Brien is my anti-drug.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Drunk Phone Secrets

A brief moment in the life of my phone.

If you are someone who is so blessed to have ever received a lengthy text from me, the reality is that I hardly ever actually type any message. I talk into my phone. And, spoiler alert: I’m a very wordy person so my messages get long.


As I am word-vomiting into my phone, I am also typically driving because it seems to be the slightly safer way to keep up with my shenanigans. Hell, I’m using this tool right now to compose this ditty. (I will later proofread - fingers crossed I remember this step). But, this is my long-standing method of keeping my eyes on the road. My pretty little phone reads to me my incoming message in a robotic Australian man's voice and I then ramble back my response and pretty much let Siri take the wheel for the translation of madness. Siri doesn't understand me always.

Keep in mind that in the back of my car I typically have either my Star Wars obsessed Fred Astaire wannabe four-year-old son with his shining blue eyes and dimples for days who is super excited to interrupt anything I’m doing to tell me about the latest Marvel 'dude' that he and his buddies discussed while going on the slide today in Miss Kathy’s class, OR I am driving home from tennis practice my four-teeth-remaining seven-year-old while she drones on and on about Minecraft. And then Minecraft. And maybe she will mention something about Minecraft. And while she takes a deep breath, she may also talk about Roblox and then sneeze and say something about Minecraft and tennis and then ZOMG MAYBE SHE CAN BUILD A TENNIS WORLD IN MINECRAFT! 

If they are both in the car, they are fighting. No doubt about it.
This means I am trying to get them to stop fighting.
If I am trying to get them to stop fighting, I have asked them four times, and then I have begun yelling. This is all while talking into my phone about my opinion of Tito's vodka or Gap running pants or what I should make for dinner this Thursday or fill in the blank randombess that is completely unimportant.

Today I was texting back-and-forth with the husband. I did not proofread my phone because whatever. I didn't. My phone decided to officially quit trying to decipher my madness.

You’re welcome.

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