If you’re new around here, confessions are 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 am obsessed with cute bento boxes, insulated lunch bags, and water bottles. Do I need ANY of these things? Noooooo, I work from home!
Does it stop me from eye-stalking them when I’m at Home Goods? It does not.
Deep in my heart, there is a part of me that thinks my life will be perfect if I just have that matching bento box/lunch bag/water bottle combo. Absolutely PERFECT.
You know who I was wondering about the other day? The employees and the factories that used to make those little plastic inserts that went into wallets to hold photos.
What happened to those factories with the invention of camera phones? Did they pivot and create new products? Are they still making them, on reduced staffing, for the grandparent holdouts that still carry those styles of wallets?
I want everyone to buy a battery-operated lawn mower when their current gas mowers die. Please.
Yes, they’re quiet. Yes, they’re more expensive to buy but so much cheaper to operate. Yes, they’re better for the environment.
But none of those are the reasons I am so passionate about battery-operated lawnmowers. For whatever reason, non-gas mowers don’t make my grass allergies go bonkers. I think it has to do with how the blades work, but I’m not a lawn mower scientist.
I can mow the lawn with our battery mower and I’m fine. If I so much as walk past someone using a gas mower in their yard, I’m sneezing my face off.
Please buy a battery-operated mower. Sure, think of the environment, but really, think of me.
There is a black minivan that lives somewhere within a half-mile radius of me, and I swear the driver has an Apple tag on my car.
This chick seems to ALWAYS be behind me in the morning while taking the kids to school, and let me tell you, she loves to tailgate. I happily drive 4 mph over the speed limit, but I think this bish wants to treat public roads like a NASCAR track.
And here’s the thing – sometimes we leave early. Sometimes we leave late. But always…the black minivan is up on my bumper. And we both drop our kids off at the same school, so I would think that by now, shame would have led her to back TF off.
Birkenstocks. I wish I could wear these, but I just can’t.
They have a cult following and everyone raves about how comfortable they are. I’ve tried them on multiple times because I want to want them, ya know? But every single time they get on my feet, my feet are like “noooooo, these hurt”!
Is there some sort of aggressive breaking-in process needed for these sandals? Because they do not feel good and I don’t get it. What am I missing?