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Paula Deen Y’all

As some of you may already know, I have a bit of a weird obsession with Paula Deen. For whatever reason I find the idea of putting butter on everything just hilarious.  I even do a pretty good impression of her.  And by “pretty good” I mean that one time my grandma said, “she really does sound like that.”  My brother’s birthday was yesterday.  I made him a card.





And by “I made” I mean I came up with the idea and then coerced Luke into drawing it.  I colored it though.  With crayons.  My card-making skills haven’t changed much since age 7.


The Mystery Box

A few weeks ago I was cleaning up my old in my parents’ house when I came across a mysterious book.  Only it wasn’t really a book, it was a BOX!


What could possibly be inside?

Okay, I’ll be honest, this box wasn’t really THAT mysterious as it has been sitting in plain sight in my room for many years and at no point did I ever think it was not a box.  Also I was pretty sure  it was empty since it wasn’t very heavy when I picked it up, nothing was rattling around inside and I had no memory of putting anything in there.  Actually it was the emptiness at that point that seemed odd.  Almost every box or container in my bedroom, large or small, has SOMETHING in it.  It might be spare parts to a Cylon action figure or candles for a doll’s menorah or a bunch of  Beanie Baby tags but boxes in my possession are almost never empty. So out of curiosity I decided to open the box just to see if maybe some forgotten thing would be in there anyway.




No here’s where it starts to get weird.  Out of the $106 (sweet!) in the box $61 of it was in singles.  Some of them were organized into paper-clipped groups of ten but the rest was a mess.

paper clip money

The weirdest part of all is that I have no memory of putting it there and no idea where I got it from.  I know that it must be mine because hiding a bunch of singles in a box shaped like a book and then stashing it in plain sight is entirely something a slightly younger me would have done. (Present day me would have spent it nearly immediately, probably on bagels or candy.  So if you were reading this and thinking of going through all my stuff and robbing all my secret stashes of cash you missed the boat. Sorry.) I think I must have been up to some sort of nefarious activity while sleepwalking or something.  Like stripping or drug dealing, both of which are things I would be terrible at. I guess that explains why I only made a $106.  But on the bright side, $106 can buy like a bunch of bagels.

Cow Cheese and My Ruined Childhood

There aren’t many people who really “get me,” who really understand why I do what I do and think what I think. One of those people is my mom, who last night not only understood why I was so upset about cheese, but also responded with a Princess Bride reference. For context, when I was little I used to call Babybel/Laughing Cow cheese “cow cheese” because I couldn’t read and there was a cow on the packaging. Emphasis on the WAS.


I realized a few years ago that I am allergic to dairy products and thus I am unlikely to ever eat cheese again so this shouldn’t really effect my life BUT STILL! My research indicates that the cow is still pictured on The Laughing Cow® Wedges and The Laughing Cow® Smooth Sensations™ Cream Cheese Spread and has really just been taken off of the Mini Babybels but I still feels like the cow, and my childhood, are being slowly taken away from me.

It must have been the nostalgia of the cheese floating around my brain but I started thinking about another food related animal friend I hadn’t seen in a while.  That colorful fellow on what I used to call “zebra gum.”


I had to google it to find out it was actually called Fruit Stripe.

This was always a treat for me as a kid because my mom vehemently hates the sound of gum chewing so we were rarely allowed to have any at home.  The one time gum was officially approved was when we were traveling by plane and it was needed to prevent ear-popping. The fruity flavors became forever in my mind associated with air-travel.  I’d bet just the smell of it would instantly teleport me to Newark International Airport.

Of course now that I’ve spent so much time thinking about it, I realize that I am hardcore craving some Fruit Stripe right about now. Unfortunately for me I don’t think I’ve seen it in a store in about a decade.  I found it a few places online but always costing more than I really want to pay for gum.  Man, becoming an adult kinda blows.