Why Texting is Satan's Plaything

Anyone who has ever texted on a smartphone, or used predictive text, knows what a dangerous situation they are putting themselves in. Namely, what is this message actually going to say when the other person receives it?

We've all been there.

Now, I love using autocorrect. Really, I do. It capitalizes words for me and adds the necessary apostrophe to any contraction. As a former English major, I'm a little embarrassed of how much I rely on it, honestly. However, there are those fabulous occasions when autocorrect turns into an extremely interesting fiasco. For example, this:

When I sent this to my charming husband, we were still dating. He was actually planning on proposing on the aforementioned Monday. He never did take me pooping...

Or this:

Nick: Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?
Me: Nah. I've got some chicken thawing. Butthat you.
Nick: Did you just call me a butthat?
Me: Yes. Yes I did. I did, however, mean "but thank you."

Or this:

Me: Can I borrow your crackpot?
Mom: Sorry. I just can't part with it. But I can lend you my crock pot.
Me: That works. Really is a shame about that crackpot, though. Maybe another time.
Mom: I don't like to share.

Or there's the time when I sent a text meant for the hubs to my mother:

Me: I miss you, lovekins!
Mom: Are you on drugs this morning?
Me: Apparently.

And that's why I shouldn't text anymore...

Whoops

It has come to my attention that I apparently the name of my blog
[Run Faster Mommy]
is attached to another web page. 

My bad.

So, in light of this new knowledge

I will be taking the next little bit  to redesign my blog.

Again.

So, pardon the mess.

I'll see you soon!

Child Posession: The More You Know

I'd like to preface this post by saying that my daughter is wonderful and I love her.

However, lately her "moments" have become more and more frequent. She's screaming like a banshee, cries when she's put down, and is biting me when I try to breastfeed her. Granted, she can't technically bite since she has no teeth. But, still, it hurts. What's more, she thinks it's funny. 

After asking her during one of Alexa's checkups, the nurse told me that if she begins to bite me whilst breastfeeding, I am to pull her away and firmly say, "NO." 

When I do that, she laughs.

I am not joking.

So what do I do about it?

Well, first, I got annoyed. But, honestly, how can you stay annoyed at something this adorable?

So, then I tried threats of withdrawal. "If you keep biting me, you'll never eat again."

Not so effective. 

So, I've folded like a napkin and simply given her a bottle if she does it. I just don't care anymore. I'm too tired and my boobs hurt. Sue me.

Daddy is still on the East Coast. Perhaps she's acting out because she'd rather look at him for twenty days in a row. If the doctor told me that was the reason, I'd believe it. 

Anyway, I have an appointment tomorrow to have her skin checked out because it's all bumpy and dry and I think it's eczema. Poor thing. In the meantime I bought some super special lotion and have been slathering that all over her every chance I get. She'll either become very soft, or very sticky. I don't care either way as long as her skin clears up.

13 "Secrets"

Well, considering I haven't had many readers lately, I figure this is as good a time as any to divulge my "secrets" to you. 

1. I've been known to dodge a phone call if the song on the radio is a good one.

2. High school wouldn't have sucked so much if it had any resemblance to what the portray in movies.

3. When I was a flattycakes, I never used to understand why well endowed women hated their boobs so much. Now I know.

4. Since I had Alexa, I cry at everything. I am not joking. Yesterday, I cried during Cars. It was just so nice when Lightening McQueen helped everybody in Radiator Springs... *sniff*
5. I still can't swim because of a traumatic experience I had when I was seven.
6. Unless I'm on a treadmill or something, I cannot work out if someone is watching me. It makes me feel five times heavier and ten times dumber.
7. I'm pretty sure that I could watch "10 Things I Hate About You" every day for the rest of my life and be completely okay with it.
8. I cannot stand the song "Silent Night." After singing it 10 times a night for three nights in a row during a high school Christmas program, I can go the rest of my life without hearing it ever again.
9. I want to go to school and expand my intelligence. But, once I get there, I immediately stop caring.
10. I love shopping for tops. I hate shopping for pants.
11. It's no secret, but I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints [Mormon] and I am extremely proud of it.

12. I'll never admit this to him, but my dad was right. I do regret quitting piano lessons.

13. I love my freckles. I think people are crazy when I hear them talking about covering theirs up. They're so cute!

There you have it. 13 things you now know about me that you didn't really care about in the first place. To those of you who still actually frequent my blog, don't forget to say hello so I know you're there!

Happy Sunday!

Book Reviews and Slang Envy

I've discovered something, recently. Foreigners are a lot funnier than Americans. Specifically the British and the Irish. 

For instance, this book: 

This book became one of my favorites while I was only halfway through. It's written as a series of notes, letters or emails between Rosie Dunne and Alex Stewart. It begins with them in first grade and goes all the way to fifty years old. They are best friends and bad influences on each other. In a word: perfection. The Irish wording and all-around wit had me in tears. I recommend this book to anyone with even the smallest sense of humor. 

Then there's this one: 

This is the first in a series of eight books. Honestly, when I'm perusing the library for a good read, if the title is funny, it's as good as checked out. It uses terms like "fabbity fab", "double cool with knobs on" and "nunga nungas." Why on earth do the Brits get such hilarious slang? At any rate, this book follows the day-to-day life of Georgia Nicholson, a 14-year-old girl who has stone aged parents, great friends, a drag-wearing cat, and who is ultimately aiming to make the Sex God Robbie her boyfriend.  It had me snorting with laughter the entire time and I'm extremely grateful that I chose to read it within the confines of my own room.There's even a glossary in the back to explain their wildly amusing terms. Some especially noteworthy phrases are:

Blimey O’Reilly
(as in Blimey O’Reilly’s trousers) This is an Irish expression of disbelief and shock. Maybe Blimey O’Reilly was a famous Irish bloke who had extravagantly big trousers. We may never know the truth. The fact is, whoever he is, what you need to know is that a) it’s Irish and b) it is Irish. I rest my case.

Boy Entrancers
False eyelashes. Boys are ALWAYS entranced when you wear them. This is a FACT . . . unless of course they get stuck together and then boys think you are mad and blind and not entrancing at all.

Bum-oley
quite literally bottom hole. I’m sorry but you did ask. Say it proudly (with a cheery smile and a Spanish accent).

Conk
Nose. This is very interesting historically. A very long time ago (1066)—even before my grandad was born—a bloke called William the Conqueror (French) came to England and shot our King Harold in the eye. Typical. And people wonder why we don’t like the French much. Anyway William had a big nose and so to get our own back we call him William the Big Conk-erer. If you see what I mean. I hope you do because I am exhausting myself with my hilariosity and historiosity.

Double cool with knobs
“double” and “with knobs” are instead of saying very or very, very, very, very. You’d feel silly saying, “He was very, very, very, very, very cool.” Also everyone would have fallen asleep before you had finished your sentence. So “double cool with knobs) is altogether snappier.

Full-frontal snogging
Kissing with all the trimmings, lip to lip, open mouth, tongues . . . everything (Apart from dribble, which is never acceptable.)

Have the painters in
An expression to indicate that a girl is . . . er . . . having her . . . you know whats. Oh, come on, you do know. Having her . . . er . . . well to put it plainly . . . her . . . well that the “red flag is flying,” that her “little friend has come to visit.” Period. Menstruation. Menses. Women trouble. Trouble at the mill. I can’t go on with this; it is making me tired.

Nuddy-pants
Quite literally nude-colored pants, and you know what nude-colored pants are? They are no pants. So if you are in your nuddy-pants you are in your no pants, i.e., you are naked.

Nunga-nungas
Basoomas. Girl’s breasty business. Ellen’s brother calls them nunga-nungas because he says that if you get hold of a girl’s breast and pull it out and then let it go—it goes nunga-nunga-nunga. As I have said many, many times with great wisdomosity, there is something really wrong with boys.

...Okay, that's enough.

Aren't you glad I read these books so that I could tell you all about what your life was missing? Of course you are. What are some books that have made you laugh out loud in public places?