F riday. !!!
WHAT IS INSTAPOT?
Sorry to scream at you first thing in the morning.
But like, what the heck is Instapot!? I see them e v e r y w h e r e on everyone’s feeds and I still can’t wrap my head around what it is or what it does. Is it a slow cooker meets a pressure cooker meets Instagram?
Or wait, is it instant reefer? THINK ABOUT THAT, MAN.
Tell me. How is it any better than a regular pot? Is it really a magical must-have everyone desperately needs? Does it do my dishes and mow my lawn and bathe my kids? I don’t see the appeal, but I’m just an old haggidy curmudeon. However, everyone’s losing their ish over these things, so they must do something cool. Guide me to the Instapot light, pigeons!
(Or jump on board my grumpy train if that sounds like more fun. I have rosé.)
I have a question for you.
And you CAN’T LAUGH.
Because I’m dead serious about this. Really. Seriously serious.
CAN WE BRING PANTY HOSE BACK IN STYLE?
Or are they already back in style?! Did I miss the memo? Because I’m kind of ready for them to come back. And I HATED them as a kid when my mom made me wear them to church. Absolutely freaking hated them. But now that I’m 40 I’m seeing these tiiiiiiiiny tiny tiny purplish spider veins here and there and I’m on the verge of punching their lights out.
Hi, panty hose.
Also, I’m deathly pale. I even slathered on my beloved Kardashian instant tan the other morning, which helped a little, but I still want to cry a river when I look at my milk sticks.
Hey, panty hose.
I’m sure they’ve come a long way, right? Thinner fabric (is that the word?), softer tones (is that a thing?), sleeker design and comfier to wear (is this just in my head?).
LISTEN, I’ll seek out what’s new out there and report back. I’m willing to take one for the team. It’s going to be a panty hose revolution, I can feel it!
Surely there’s a mic around here I can drop.
Why do you think we say “in the car” and “on the bus”?
And not “in the bus” and “on the car”.
We get ON a plane. ON a train. ON a boat. But IN a car.
These are the things I think about at night. While you’re sleeping.
SIX EPISODES LEFT OF FELICITY.
But I have to slow down because I’m watching the finale with my girlfriend who’s been watching it with me, but we’re not getting together until NEXT SATURDAY. That’s like, four years away! So I’m pacing myself.
I can barely talk about it, it’s so painful.
You’re like, BOO HOO.
(Lauren is gross.)
(Also, I’m team Noel again. Don’t hate me.)
(He talks in a regular voice! Ben grunt-whispers every single word and I need a hearing aid to understand him.)
(Team Noel, all the way.)
It’s our anniversary weekend! 12 years of MAWWIAGE this Sunday, yo. And we have zero plans, which is kind of perfect. It’s supposed to be suuuper rainy, so I’m honestly good with a movie marathon, homemade pizza and rosé out the wazoodoodle.
I probably won’t say wazoodoodle again.
I’m also completely lying.
p.s. panty hose.