Who invented the whole “guess-what-chicken-butt!” ordeal? Because he needs some firm talkin’ to.
Will and Nat are obsessed with it and I’m being sent to an early grave, you guys.
But they take it a few steps further. Of course they do.
Guess what. Chicken butt!
Guess who? Chicken poo!
Guess when? Chicken chin!
This is the kicker though, and I apologize for what’s about to happen to you and your fragile insides.
Guess where? Chicken HAIR.
I’ve never heard anything more wrong and horrific in my entire life. If they never say the words “chicken” and “hair” again back to back it will be too soon.
While we’re at it, I feel like a solid round of UNPOPULAR OPINION today.
And this is a risky little game, as Rachel Green once said to Phoebe at Monica and Chandler’s wedding when Phoebe told Rachel it was a negative pregnancy test.
It is indeed risky, because I’m about to tell you three things that I truly madly deeply feel are a) completely overrated and/or b) I basically can’t stand. These three things will either have you throwing your laptop into a pond, oooooor coming out of hiding and joining me in these very, very unpopular opinions. And I’m not one to ruffle feathers, but.
- Lady Gaga. No. Nope. Naw. Hard pass. Can’t do it. Her voice ain’t all that and she just tries so, so hard. Relax, Gags.
2. The Greatest Showman. I’ve tried watching it more than once and it severely pains me. The music is lazy, the acting is cringe (I love Jackman <and his charming rivalry with Reynolds>, but this just didn’t land for me) and in general a sloppy attempt at something that could have been cool.
3. Disney World. NOW LISTEN BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND, let me clarify something. I love Disney. The movies. Walt. The whole beginning and the charm and the story and how it shaped childhood for me. (at one point I even wanted to be a Disney cartoon singer! Could have done it.) But there is a massive pressure on parents to give their children Disney World while they’re young and I’m just so ick on it. I know people love it. I know it’s magical blah blah. But the (literal) price for making that happen, plus all the exhaustion that comes with it to “be so perfect” just makes me to scream. This is not life. I’m not blaming Walt. I’m blaming the pressure.
And if you’re an adult and you’re going to Disney World WITHOUT children, we’re talking a whoooole other level of bananas.
That’s all! 🙂 With me? Or blocking me? Tell me your unpopular opinions so I’m not dangling out on this shaky limb all alone.
Words I have to look up EVERY SINGLE TIME to make sure I spell them right:
Mayonnaise. (like, I just had to) Is it two n’s? Two s’s? One y? I never know!
Cannellini. (just had to again) Two l’s or one? Two n’s? I think it is. It’s so hard!
Okay there are so many more I’m embarrassed to say but I’ve gone blank. Probably because I just trash mouthed Gaga on the blog and fear the wave wrath.
Yesterday Will said to me, and I kid you not, “Guess what genre I’m thinking of.”
Me, “What genre? Um, mystery.”
“Nope. What’s sci-fi?”
“No. I’ll just tell you. Expository text.”
“EXPOSITORY TEXT. It’s another word for non-fiction.”
“Are you serious? I never knew. You sound insanely smart. I’m going to email your teacher with praises immediately.”
We’re on the Rosemary Beach countdown (one more week!) so I’m starting to get all the little things checked off the list to prepare. Oil change today. Actually, how many times do you think I’ll have to say, “Just the oil change please.” “No really, just the oil change.” I just may do a poll in Stories. You know my love for polls.
I’m also “performing” tomorrow evening at an all-second-grade-girls GIRCHELLA going-away slumber party for one of Nat’s besties. I’m bringing my guitar and busting out some Taylor, some Jewel, even some Loeb in their backyard on a little stage. I’ll take you with me. Duncha worry.
From this week, in case you missed it! Cajun Sausage Flatbread! A whip-together-dinner or simple party pleaser. It just works. And French-Inspired Egg Salad Sandwiches! Elegant, but brutally simple. Ya need both.
Okay I can still feel your eyes bugged out over the admissions. Are we . . . okay?