If you’re new around here, confessions is a time for us to all unburden ourselves of the silliness we’re feeling at the moment. I share dumb things, then you share dumb things, and we all have a better day because of it.
Let’s get started!
I get 15-25 emails a day from people who want me to promote their crappy products for free, place links to their articles on my website, or a thousand other random things that come with owning a digital-based business.
I usually ignore them because they’re so frequent, but occasionally I respond that I’m not interested. The senders of these emails can be very aggressive and will start sending me “follow up” emails within 36 hours. I got one on Christmas morning and the sender was incensed that I hadn’t responded by the next day.
Usually, I delete or brush off the follow-ups, but I had one woman send me one the other day that made my blood boil. This woman does not know me, I have no interest in her product, and yet she passive-aggressively referred to me as “honey” in the email. “Honey, I know you’re busy but…”. UM NO. I’m not your honey. YOU DON’T KNOW ME, and chances are I’m older than you, so shove it up your butt.
This fall, someone on our local FB group was looking to purchase local eggs. I had an extra dozen but decided to look at this woman’s profile for a bit. I’m nosy like that!
Her profile photo was of a yard sign for a local politician who is extremely horrifying, and she followed some accounts that I think demonstrate the worst in humanity. I never responded to her question because my chickens do not support hate. My girls and their butt nuggets promote joy and equity.
After 10 months in quarantine with my kids, I no longer have empathy when they get hurt. They hurt themselves and freak out multiple times a day, so at this point, I’m just mad. STOP GETTING HURT.
I don’t think I have ever had aspirin in my life. Tylenol, yes. Ibuprofen, yes. Aspirin? I don’t think so. Is that weird?
I’m in awe of pro football players who have long hair and can comfortably wear football helmets. I cannot even tolerate my tiny ponytail poking through the hole in a baseball cap. And no one is even trying to tackle or knock me down while I’m wearing it.
At what point did we all agree that there is no one correct way to spell “grey/gray”? We’re just ok with the fact that it is interchangeable? Pick a lane English language! Pick a lane.
For the last few months, I have been ordering groceries for pick up at our local store. I have a grocery net in the back of my car. When the workers bring my groceries out to the car, I can tell you based on their gender if they’ll put the bags IN the grocery net, or simply BY it.
The female employees will always put the bags inside the net. The males? Right next to it or behind it. A male employee means I either need to get out and rearrange everything before I leave, or the bags will tip over and I’m chasing limes around my trunk when I get home.
Bennett has tons of nicknames in our house, but my favorite is the one Jack gave him after reading The Hunger Games. For a few weeks, Bennett was referred to as “Bennett Everstink”.
Ok, friends, your turn! What do you need to confess?