Monday Dare: This one may kill me. Nice knowing you.

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Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the full list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.This week: Swallow my pride

I like to give out free advice. Actually, I prefer to be paid, but no one’s willing to fork over any cash, so I’m giving away my golden nuggets of wisdom for free. You’re welcome. 

Sometimes, I give out advice, and I know it’s well-received because no one punches me in the face. Like Saturday. I found out on Facebook that my brother, Marshall, got engaged. I texted him: “Congrats! Also, some free advice- CALL first with any future big news before posting on Facebook. Please.” He agreed. We hugged via text.

His bride-to-be is kind and lovely and so ladylike. Clearly, we are very different people. I’m looking forward to having a sister-in-law.

Well, I already have a sister-in-law….but that brings us to the other times I give out free advice, and people hang up on me.

In Ellen’s defense, I might have spooked her with my stalkerish ways. When I found out that Harv’s brother, Terry, and his wife, Ellen, were moving to the area, I called every week for a whole month to arrange a get-together. How about a family dinner? Let’s get the kids together! Wanna go get our toenails painted and drink cheap champagne?

After five messages, Ellen finally called back and reluctantly agreed to a family dinner. I add “reluctantly” because she was all “Welllll, yeah, I *guess* we can do something together.” Those might have been her exact words. It didn’t bother me. Stalkers never let little things like disdain get in the way. I was determined to be Ellen’s friend…whether she liked it or not.

At dinner, she called me “fancy” and rolled her eyes. She gave one-word responses. No biggie, I thought. I’m gonna wear this homette down until we’re bosom buds. 

Soon after, at another dinner, Ellen refused to say hello and avoided eye contact or conversation the entire time. In my head, she and I were at a sample sale, one of us distracting the masses away from the 70% off sweaters while the other dug through the pile for both of our sizes. I let that fantasy carry me through the whole 90-minute dinner.

Since I’m such a lady, I did what I thought was best. I wrote her a scathing email with a shitload of free advice which may or may not have included phrases such as:

  • I’m more than slightly mortified that we are connected in any way.
  • Your continued insolence is no longer acceptable.
  • I don’t wish ill on you. I wish you the best of luck. Because you’re going to need it.

She forwarded it to my in-laws. I called her. She hung up.

We haven’t spoken since. I’ve been thinking about her lately. Cal doesn’t have many cousins, and if I have to make amends so she can have buddies to raise hell with as a teen, I’m willing to do it.

So, I’d love YOUR free-of-charge advice. Should I reach out to her? Make peace?

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what’s a good substitute for swearing? drugs.

It’s probably a good idea to sit down; I have some disappointing news. I fucked up really messed up this week. Well, not that much…I’ve only cursed 19 times since Monday morning. I’ve been keeping track. And hey, at least I’m honest about it. I must be a saint. 

The count would have been a lot higher, but I concocted a brilliant substitute for swearing.

Drugs. All kinds of drugs. Crack cocaine, crystal meth, marijuana, heroin, LSD, ecstasy…. really, the list is endless.

I wasn’t going to share my little trick with you, but my big generous heart won out, so here’s the plan:

Every time you feel a swear word reaching the tip of your tongue, immediately substitute a drug. 

I accidentally kicked the toilet yesterday (don’t ask). Instead of my usual, I shouted with passion and vibrato, “CRYSTAL METHAMPHETAMINE!”

It worked like a charm.

Because I care about my health (not really, we had some veggies languishing in the fridge), I juiced this morning. Since my juicer hadn’t seen the light of day for a while, it was a process just to get one small cup of juice.

I had to find all the parts, rinse off all the dust, wash all the veggies, cut the veggies to fit the juicer opening, juice the veggies, then immediately rinse the parts so they wouldn’t “crust,” and then I was ready to enjoy my juice.

Since I’m 30-years-young and I’ve got the coordination of a brand new baby, instead of grabbing the cup, I knocked it over.


I’ve gone through so many drugs, I’ve resorted to looking up slang for variety.

Angel dust, people. It’s not just something they sell at Victoria’s Secret.

The best unintended side effect is that Cal now associates all drugs with horrible mishaps and she’s less likely to become a druggie. I’m not cursing AND I’m teaching my daughter a valuable lesson. BAM! I’m a genius. 
On a drug-related (not really) note, my mom has been suffering from insomnia. She’s tried all sorts of remedies but she’s still having trouble sleeping. I thought about suggesting a little pot, but she might like it a little too much and turn into a druggie granny and then I’d lose my best babysitter, so I’d like a little advice, folks.

Any insomnia cures?
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