humor

(Your) Kids Say the Darndest Things

I don’t have any kids yet. (Thank goodness.)

I love them, and want them someday, but right now I survive primarily off of pasta and granola bars and I recently lost my favorite pair of pants inside my dresser drawer, so it’s safe to I need some time to, you know, grow.

When the time comes, you can pretty much guarantee I will be one of those people constantly posting about every single thing my kids say and do, because to me it will be HILARIOUS and life changing, where in reality it will just be burping into a spoon. Until that time however, I’ve decided to take note of the hilarious things that other peoples’ kids have said to me. I’ve also thrown in a few of my favorites from when my brother was little, enjoy!

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Kid: “When I bump my head, my brain gets hypnotized.”

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Kid: At my house, I saw a rainbow with only 2 colors

Me: Well that doesn’t seem right, how many colors should a rainbow have?

Kid: 400 or 10 or 9

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Kid: They’re making a new Star Wars movie!

Me: Cool! When will it be out?

Kid: In about 13 minutes

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Kid: The new me is going to be a Ghostbuster

Me: When is the new you arriving?

Kid: 13 days

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Kid: On Saturdays when I grow up, I’m going to be a dentist

Me: Only on Saturdays?

Kid: Yeah cuz on Sundays I’m going to be a scientist, and I’m going to work with you Monday through Friday

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Kid: Hey can we shoot this pomegranate with a bb gun?

Me: No, I don’t think so.

Kid: hmmm, okay, I think I’ll just throw it across the yard then.

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Me: Hey look, this cheeto looks like the letter “F”

Kid: Yeah! *pulls another cheeto out of bag* hey look, this cheeto looks like my grandpa wearing a hat!

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Kid: “Did you know that when people die they can still fart for a few hours?”

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Kid: Hmmm, that’s funny, this gutter smells like chicken.

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Sometimes I wish my brain still worked like theirs. Though, honestly, sometimes it still does.

33 Harmless Things I Hate

Playing off the list I recently made of things that make me happy, my mind started swirling with things that do quite the opposite. It was nothing too intense or traumatic, it was just things that irk me. The things, to put it lightly, I’d just rather not come into contact with in my day to day life. For example:

  1. Spoilers (i.e movie endings, sports results, etc.)
  2. Unwarranted rudeness
  3. Hidden pickles in hamburgers
  4. Chewing noises
  5. Lack of decision making
  6. Decision making
  7. People who don’t use their blinkers
  8. People who walk slow
  9. Clothes tags
  10. Nuts in chocolate
  11. When lotion dries out and hardens
  12. Crooked or off-center picture frames
  13. Online articles that promise you lists but give long paragraphs or glitchy slideshows
  14. People who cheat-merge on the freeway (a.k.a wait way longer than they should to merge and then cut you off)
  15. Dictionary definitions that tell you nothing (for example: if you looked up “protagonist” and it told you something like “the opposite of an antagonist”)
  16. Autocorrects that make no sense (I’m looking at you “haga”)
  17. A dirty kitchen
  18. Static
  19. When socks slip off inside your shoes
  20. Being unable to think of anything else to say to someone besides a vague comment about the weather
  21. Car commercials that trick you into thinking they’re advertising something else
  22. Car commercials in general
  23. Wind
  24. The fact that it never seems to get any easier to wake up for work on time
  25. Finally mustering up the energy to go to the doctor, only to feel 100% fine when you get there
  26. Stores with too many scents
  27. My sensitive stomach that gets motion sickness from EVERYTHING
  28. People who say “you look tired.”
  29. TV episodes (especially season finales) that end with “to be continued”
  30. Getting sunburned in the ONE spot you managed to miss
  31. Tea
  32. Loose fitting shoes
  33. Inconsistency (for example: when the first edition of this post was 34 items long, but this one is only 33…smirking-face_1f60f)

The Dream About Space (Among Other Things)

If you’ll recall from this post a couple years ago, I tend to have weird dreams. I also like to evaluate those dreams using DreamMoods.com so I can pretend I’m not concerned by the subject matter. That being said, I want to take you on a journey through a dream I had about a month ago, which may or may not be one of my strangest dreams ever.

Let us begin.

So the dream starts off with me sitting at a table with my sister, Natalee, my cousin, Cory, a girl named Brooke (whom I’ve never met or seen in my life) and a middle aged man who is not only a stranger as well, but also nameless.

The meeting is just like any other meeting—save for the fact that it revolves around our upcoming trip to space. As in OUTER space. Why are we going to outer space, you ask? Because our family friends just moved there and have invited us to visit, obviously. And when I get an invitation to space, I take it—and apparently invite strangers to come along.

Now, seeing as we’re going to space it is obvious why we would need to hold a meeting. No, not because of the whole earth to space transition—because apparently that’snot a big dealand “I’ve done this many times.” No, the key reason for the meeting is that we are going to be using a different “portal” than usual to get there, and I wanted everyone to know ahead of time.

At this news, Cory and Natalee nod. This is no big deal for them. They just need the when and the where and they will be ready to…you know…portal it up. Brooke on the other hand is NOT DOWN. I get it. I mean, we all have a portal that works best for us, am I right? In the end, Brooke and the nameless dude bail, leaving Natalee, Cory and I in the conference room, where we crawl through a tiny hole that leads to space. (Feel free to give me a call, NASA, I remember what the conference room looked like.)

Once in space, we float through our friends’ new digs, which is mostly a glass sphere with round buttons all over the inside. While I wasn’t visibly upset in the dream, upon waking up I realized that of the six people that belong to the family in real life, only three of them were in my dream. The other three people in attendance were 100% strangers, however, dream-me didn’t seem to notice. #alarming

After getting all of the, “hey, yeah, we’re in space, cool floating pod, do you like it better than your two-story earth house?” type small talk out of the way, we decide to do what anyone would do the first day they were in space: play board games. (Because who needs gravity to hold the pieces to the board?!)

The next morning I wake up leaning diagonally into a wall, yawning and stretching like it was the best night of my life. I then tell my sister I would like to go to church. Naturally she gives me the lowdown, explaining, “lol Kim, you can’t do that, we’re in space,” to which I reply with a crawl back through the hole in the wall, because #portalsarelife.

Once I’m back on earth, I start walking. The portal dropped me off about two miles from my church (in my actual, real life neighborhood) so I take the same route I do every Sunday. Once I’m about a half of a mile away however, I’m stopped. Is it because there’s a roadblock? Is there an earthquake? Am I hit by a car?

No.

I stop—and I mean, come to a DEAD HALT—because there is guy putting on a reptile show for kids. A REPTILE GUY. And do you know what I do next? I hold a snake. Do you know what I do after? I GO BACK TO SPACE.

I can’t even tell you where the portal was this time. From what I can tell, dream-me may or may not have the ability to teleport on command. To make matters worse, when I get back to space and my sister asks me how church was and I say, “oh, I actually didn’t make it,” she says what no one should ever have to say, “Kim, did you get stopped by the reptile guy AGAIN?”

I wish I could tell you I was able to figure this one out. But even after I broke down certain parts I was arguably more confused than when I started.

For example, outer space supposedly signifies “boundless creativity” which, okay, cool, I would consider myself a creative person.

To dream that a stranger is pretending to be someone you know (i.e. when the family I know in real life was not quite the family I found in space) suggests that the person you know is not who you thought they were. So I’m boundlessly creative, but my friends are imposters…okay…

To see or play board games signifies “progress in life.” Now, I could argue my in-dream life is making much more progress than my actual life, seeing as I can teleport on a dime between earth and space and everything. But if we’re only talking about real life, I suppose recognizing my boundless creativity and my imposter friends would be considered forward progress so, okay, I’m still with you.

To see a reptile in your dream symbolizes your basic urges, instincts and suppressed desires. Ummm…yeah, okay, I think this is a safe place to officially draw the line. Let’s just call it a (REALLY) weird dream, okay?

My Google Search History

Did you know there is a limit of Internet windows you can have open on your phone? Did you know that it is extremely possible to reach that limit?

Well I do, and I have…5 times.

The first time was an accident—well actually, every single time has been an accident. I’m just a very curious person who will Google anything and everything, if only to level up in the fun fact department. Though I suppose that doesn’t necessarily explain why I never close any windows. Maybe I subconsciously keep them open in case I need to refer to them later, like it’s my own personal detective’s notebook. Or, more than likely, I just Google something and then turn my phone off and never think about it again.

Regardless, as I am once again approaching the window limit, I thought I might look back at (at least some of) what got me there. Let’s take a dive into the mind of past-Kim.

(Wait, is this a good idea?)

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1) Dodgers radio

My best guess why: I was desperately trying to find a way to listen to the games leading up to the playoffs and ultimately the World Series…which we ended up losing. Ouch. The wound is still fresh, let’s move on.

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2) How long are diced tomatoes good for?

My best guess why: It was a classic “I’m so glad I saved this Tupperware of diced tomatoes so I can make the most of the groceries I bought. But, uhhh, are these still any good though? Strictly speaking, what are my odds of dying if I eat these?” You know, one of those conversations you have with yourself—too often, probably—and so you turn to the Internet for guidance. FYI: when stored in a Tupperware, diced tomatoes are good for one week in the fridge.

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3) The best of 80s fashion

My best guess why: A friend of the family was having an 80’s themed birthday party and my mom and I were at Target next to the chokers trying to figure out if we wanted to go halfway or all out. Spoiler alert: we went all out.

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4) Cajeta

My best guess why: Whenever I go out to eat and find an ingredient on the menu I don’t recognize, I look it up both for educational purposes, and to ensure I don’t accidentally order something spicy because I’m a giant baby and would start profusely sweating/crying/begging for milk, etc. FYI: it’s essentially caramelized goat’s milk.

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5) Prohibition Facts

My best guess why: Your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea when or where I would have needed/wanted to drop knowledge about Prohibition, but apparently that conversation happened at some point.

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6) Last minute Halloween costume ideas

My best guess why: I’m really not a Halloween person, so “last minute costume ideas” is really just code for, “someone made me dress up this year.” That being said however, I’d like to think my costume this year wasn’t a complete and total failure. I put on my best set of nerdy glasses and a dinosaur shirt I bought at a greeting card store, and then I spent a solid hour gluing Smarties to my pants, thus transforming me into “Smarty Pants.” Fun fact: my sister stabbed plastic knives into cereal boxes to become a “Cereal Killer.” Sorry not sorry for the puns.

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7) Chow Chow Dog Yoga

My best guess why: My sister gave my dad a “Dogs Doing Yoga” calendar for Christmas last year and this image headed one month:

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It instantly became one of my favorite images of all time and so sometimes when I’m feeling down I give it a glance. It’s almost a foolproof strategy for joy, if you’re ever looking for one.

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8) Rapper with Pointy Teeth

My best guess why: My roommate asked me, “have you ever seen that rapper with the pointy teeth?” And then I said, “What are you talking about?” And then Google was like, you mean THIS GUY:

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I’m still traumatized.

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9) GOTR abbreviation

My best guess why: While on vacation in Colorado last year, my best friend and I saw Needtobreathe in concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater. As we waited for the show to start, we came across a guy in a shirt that said “GOTR” across the front. A Google search would reveal the initials represented a band called Ghost of the Robot, but before doing so we decided to make out best guesses:

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10) Brian & Brittney Kelley Fashion

My best guess why: In September of last year I went to a Florida Georgia Line concert where I was showed a series of photos of the band, some of which included this jacket:

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Upon arriving home that evening and over the course of the next few weeks, I was OBSESSED with finding this jacket, unfortunately to no avail, and this website is a residual breadcrumb. It’s the clothing brand of one of the lead singers of the band, which I’m pretty sure I tried to put a hex on after sifting through every single page of the website at two in the morning and coming up empty. Apologies for that, Brian and Brittney, I’m sure the clothes are lovely if not severely overpriced and completely lacking the one item I was looking for. I’m totally over it though. I’m not bitter and I’m not spiraling back into Google to find the jacket that I still need would very much enjoy owning. I’m totally in contro…

The Lavender Milk & Honey Cocoon (Adventures at the Spa: Part 3)

If you’ll recall this post I wrote a couple of years ago, I was…anxious about my first ever massage. But since I survived, and—with some reflection—understood there were in fact benefits, I decided that once I hit my 1000-mile running goal, I’d give massages another go.

Before I ever went to a spa, I used make passing comments that if I did, I’d rather they “wrap me in a leaf” or “put me in mud for a few hours” than give me a massage. While one of those wishes was more or less fulfilled a few years back (which you can read about here) I decided that this post-running spa trip probably would (and should) consist of a massage.

Fast-forward a few weeks to the Friday after Christmas. My mom had put in an extensive amount of research to try and make my spa day dreams come true, and as we sat on cushioned lounge chairs in white cloth robes, waiting to be called back to our individual rooms, I was both anxious and excited.

“Kimberlee,” a woman said as she approached us.

“That’s me.”

She guided me down a hallway and pointed to a white door, all the while explaining what would be involved in my lavender milk and honey cocoon. (Yeah, remember that leaf I’d always wanted? That idea went out the window the minute I learned of the opportunity to go full insect on the world.)

I walked into the room and my masseuse, Natalie (the same name as my sister, a.k.a her first win in my book) told me she was going to step out of the room for a few minutes. In that time, I could adjust the lighting, the music being played, the temperature of the room, and finally, take off my robe and lie on my stomach.

I didn’t end up changing any of the settings she mentioned, but on par with both of the other spa experiences I’ve had, I spent a solid amount of time on the underwear debate. Do I keep it on? Do I take it off? Should I have taken it off before she led me back here?

With my robe already off, and my underwear in my hand, I paced back and forth across the room—in perhaps the strangest way I’ve ever thought something over—and eventually decided to tuck my underwear in my robe pocket. When Natalie knocked, I was under the covers with my face stuffed into that pillow that always seems one size too small.

“Alright Ms. Kim, we’re going to start with the body buff.”

And for the next twenty minutes, I was quite literally buffed. Using a scrub that felt like sandy soap (in a good way?) I felt like she was exercising every imperfection out of my skin. The only hiccup was when she reached for my stomach and my skin literally moved away from her hands, like a cartoon character fidgeting away from danger. Luckily Natalie seemed unfazed and finished the spiff job like I was a classic car going to auction.

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She then asked me to stand up, rinse off in the shower—which I didn’t even notice was there—then come back in with my towel open in the back and sit up straight on the table. It was pretty straightforward. And aside from feeling slightly like I was at the gyno, I was excited for step two, a.k.a THE COCOON.

Now, it’s probably clear—or if it isn’t, allow me to clarify—I am a human girl. However, once my masseuse began to lather—not sprinkle, not dab, LATHER—the honey & lavender milk mixture on my skin, I quickly began my transformation into a mouth watering KFC biscuit. And while I kept wanting to feel, I don’t know, gross because of how much I undoubtedly resembled a human flytrap, I managed to maintain a head space of bliss rather than bleh.

I’d like to say this was from my newly found spa-maturity, however, I’m 100% sure it was attributed to the fact that after she finished a section of my body she would layer on hot towels, making me feel like a moisturized mummy, something I never knew I wanted to be. And if that wasn’t great enough, once I was to honey what Eggo waffles should be to syrup, she pulled the sides of the weighted blanket I was laying on over me and tied me into it.

I repeat, SHE TIED ME INTO IT.

It was like I was a 5 year old being burrito-ed into bed by my dad all over again and I was LIVING. FOR. IT.

As a final step, she turned off the lights, giving me an ample atmosphere for my caterpillar/peasant to moth/full blown goddess transformation. Then, after just the right amount of time (i.e. long enough that I could have grown honey scented wings but not so long that I’d develop cocoon claustrophobia a.k.a a level of fear I never want to unlock) Natalie slowly lifted the lights, unzipped me and told me to rinse off in the shower again.

Once I was back on the table, we began the 50-minute massage included with the package, which was substantially less terrifying than my first one. Mostly because I knew what to expect, but also because by that point I felt like Natalie and I had been through a lot together and I trusted she wouldn’t do anything to break the strong (probably one-sided) bond we’d built. In the end, I’m happy to report the massage went off without a hitch, save for the few minutes at the end when the music changed to what sounded like the soundtrack to The Godfather, and I lost focus on relaxation and started thinking about you know, murder.

When Natalie was finished, she heated my robe in…umm…a magical robe heater…I assume—I honestly have no idea—and then she once again stepped out, giving me privacy to get dressed. As you can imagine, getting up sounded impossible at this point, let alone getting dressed and reentering the real world. But I managed to muster up the strength (see: courage). Afterwards, Natalie led me back down the hallway to the cushiony lounge chairs where it all began. She also gave me an apple and a magazine with an article about JK Rowling in it, making me wonder if I should just propose. Before I could decide however, she was gone.

How to be Me for Halloween

With only about two weeks left until Halloween we’ve officially reached that point where you’re either going to have to suck it up and overspend on a costume at an outlet, pull a clever one together at a thrift shop, or cut holes in a trusty white sheet.

I personally am not a huge Halloween person, but I also refuse to be the party pooper in the corner that came as a disgruntled version of myself. So, I’ve got something in the works that hopefully doesn’t turn out terrible. (That’s the spirit!)

When I was brainstorming my costume this year, I scrolled through a bunch of articles online and saw a variety of clever ideas. Television characters and famous personalities, punny collaborations and comically literal depictions of pop culture. In looking through the costumes of athletes and movie stars and TV characters, I started thinking about how funny it is that we love to dress up in “costumes” that depict the casual dress of a character or real-life person. In doing so, I thought about what someone might use to fashion a costume representative of me.

This is what I came up with:

What You’ll Need

  • Black leggings
  • A t-shirt and a maroon zip up hoodie OR a crewneck sweatshirt
  • No-show socks
  • Black converse
  • A birthmark on the middle finger of your left hand
  • A Fitbit
  • A broken-in hair tie on your left wrist
  • A hydroflask water bottle
  • A medium sized purse containing a Mary Poppins assortment of practical things
  • A casual blend of awkward, anxious, and confident
  • Well timed bad jokes
  • Well timed laughter to back up the jokes

How to Pull Off the Character

  • Be nice to most everyone, but don’t be afraid to give the occasional dirty look and/or refusal of laughter to a clear cut asshole
  • Whenever there is an awkward silence, look at your nails
  • Whenever you’re trying to fill an awkward silence, overuse finger guns for no reason and then regret it for hours afterwards.
  • Try to work Chopped into almost every conversation
  • Squirm around desperately whenever given a compliment
  • Consistently be cold, regardless of the weather.
  • Constantly mention how much you’re craving ice cream
  • Cry after almost every commercial
  • Resist making any decisions regarding dinner choices
  • Follow all the rules without shame

Key Vocabulary Words/Phrases

  • “Dude”
  • “Oh my gosh!”
  • “What a day”
  • “Shitty”
  • “I’m about it”
  • “Truth”
  • “Honestly, though!”

Did I just invent some sort of psychological “know thyself” exercise? Because I feel like I just explored the inner depths of my psyche. Credit me in the textbooks, folks.

In the meantime, what would a Halloween costume of you look like? I might need some backup ideas…