Do you know any of those people who use the word "literally" alot?
As in, the classic: "I was literally scared to death. TO DEATH, I tell you."
Sheesh. Can't we just delete the poor word from the dictionary and put it out of its misery?
But I have to say, this weekend was a pain in the neck.
Literally.
I woke up on Saturday, full of resolve to swim laps and reward myself with a trip to the Farmer's Market, tried to do something outrageous -- like look to the right -- and HURT MY NECK.
Seriously, how stupid is that? I spent most of Saturday laying on the couch and whining about how I couldn't move my head.
(Which reminds me of a friend of mine who once thought her dog had had a stroke, but in fact, he had just strained his neck. Why that cracks me up today, I do not know.)
People, I'm here to tell you, you do not appreciate the normal range of motion you have with your neck. Necks are marvelous things, and I will never, ever, take mine for granted again. I'm going to give it a little grateful pat right now, just for good measure.
It IS getting better, now, thank you very much. But still -- SHEESH.
I tried to drown my sorrows with a new batch of banana ice cream, this time with toffee chips. The lesson I learned from this experiment: Toffee chips are mostly SUGAR and therefore will DISSOLVE if left to sit in the ice cream mixture to chill.
So the banana ice cream was just plain banana ice cream with a mild toffee flavor. Scrumptious nonetheless, particularly with a bit of butterscotch ice cream topping. Boy howdy.
And since I could quite easily look straight forward, Todd and I watched a movie on Saturday, too: Factory Girl. I had never even heard of Edie Sedgwick before this, but now I am totally obsessed with whether I would have been "mod" or "hippy" had I been alive in the 60's.
I've always said that I would have been a hippy anti-war activist, but that was before I had fully appreciated the makeup that the Edie Sedgwick-types wore.
Have you SEEN that makeup? The dark, dark eyeshadow, the thick eyeliner, and the FALSE EYELASHES?!? It makes me swoon. And the earrings? Man, oh man. Give me some thigh-high boots and a polka-dotted minidress and I would be perfectly happy. Shoot, I think I could make my hair look mod right now, with the cut I so fortuitously already have.
And yes, now that you mention it, I DO think I would steer clear of the propensity to jam heroin filled syringes into my ass THROUGH MY CLOTHES. No need to go overboard, people.
2 comments:
Irregardless of your distaste for non-existent words or improperly used words, I literally just stopped typing this comment . . . well, at least now I have . . . or rather NOW. Literally! JBF
Shit, did it again, following the next period, Ill have literally stopped typing this message.
I am so happy you have decided not to be a heroin addict that I literally cannot speak, such that I am now literally miming this to Bryan who is literally typing every word I am miming in a figurative attempt at being funny.
I really hope that dog story is about someone else because that exact thing happened to me with Arthur. If not, I am literally going to die.
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