“Inspire me Becca.” I hear this phrase often from people that love me and love to write. They think that because I write every day, I have some sort of in with the writing fairies that dish out ideas. I tell them that I don’t have ideas for myself, and often what comes out is so vile that even my own husband won’t share my posts on his facebook page. Do they really want their family members to hang their heads in shame and giggle?
Today I will not inspire you. I will not engage your inner nerd. I will not bring hope to gnarly toe people. I will not give you fashion advice to thumb your nose at, and/or end up with something entirely different (like a nerd shirt, Rod). I will not teach you to make homemade sex toys like one of my lovely readers linked yesterday. I will definitely not make you a sandwich, because I expect others to make them for me.
I will only complain about the sonic blast I bought today for the little people in my life (snickers with caramel). When my hypothetical son took a bite of snickers, he also got a bite of another broken cup (or at least I hope that’s what it was). He complained a bit, but I told him to suck it up. In my day, we were lucky to get a bit of styrofoam for dinner (and weeeee liked it!). If we got some ice cream with it, we thought we’d won the lottery.
Lady or Not… Here I Come!