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You are here: Home / Aging and its niceties / This is not a real post. It’s me thinking out loud.

This is not a real post. It’s me thinking out loud.

July 10, 2013 by Mona Andrei Leave a Comment

The finger the hamster pokes my brain with every time it wakes me up with one of its cockamamie ideas.
The finger the hamster pokes my brain with every time it wakes me up with one of its cockamamie ideas.

Well good morning, awesome Moxie-Dude reader.

Although I have to admit: I’m not sure what kind of morning it will be considering that technically I’m writing this in the middle of the night. And when I say “this” what I really mean is a piece for the new category I’m going to create called “Memory Lane”. (Don’t look for it yet because I’m not finished writing it, okay?)

THIS post is kind of like me taking a break from working on THAT post. Except that what I’m really doing is thinking out loud . . .

You see, it’s a piece about something I did when I was little – something I did that was REALLY, REALLY DUMB – because I believed something that was even DUMBER than the thing that I did. Make sense?

I call it one of my “dumb blond moments” – of which I’ve had three and that’s pretty fricken amazing when you consider my age.

Note from the hamster: She is so lying. Please re-read the above sentence and add about five zeros after her “three”.

Now before you start breathing down my neck about my quasi-derogatory remark where I used the words “dumb” and “blond” next to each other in the same sentence, I’d just like to point out that two of my kids are blond (and not dumb) and I already ran my use of these words past them – BECAUSE I WRITE RESPONSIBLY – and they’re both okay with it.

In fact, they’re more than okay with it. I know this because they laughed at me for asking.

By the way, your kids laughing at you is one of those naturally occurring progressions of life. It happens once they reach adulthood and right after the stage where they roll their eyes at everything you say and do when you’re in public.

Okay, I better get back to working on that OTHER post. But before I do, I just want to say that technically THIS post is not a form of procrastination. I know this because I have this strong, sudden desire to design T-shirts that say “I’d rather be . . .” and where the thing you’d rather be doing is hidden by a pocket. That way you could wear it to work and when your boss asks you, “what would you rather be doing?” you can say, “why, working on that report you asked me for of course” when really what you’d rather be doing is ANYTHING than working on that report.

Now THAT would be procrastination since I’m not a T-shirt designer.

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Filed Under: Aging and its niceties, Kids, mom adventures, Pretending to be a grown-up, Random, That effin hamster, Writing

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