Can you tell me how to get.....

Every day on Sesame Street they have a "word of the day." It's usually something pretty applicable to daily life. Today it was "appetite." Well I have an appetite for good words.

My word of the day: Facetious.

Why today?

Why not today? It's my favorite word!

Why is it my favorite word?

Think about what a good word it is! It's fun to say, a little tricky to spell, and so much fun to be. While I have little to no tolerance for sarcasm (mainly because I lack the social perceptiveness to discern between sarcasm and just plain mean), facetiousness can be more lighthearted and full of whimsy.

So, Sesame Street, teach my children some fun words to really advance their vocabularies. My precocious children, who snack on spinach and Asiago salads, demand more obscure words from talking puppets.

And I'm not just being facetious.

Green acres and acres of garbage

I was recently attempting to make strides in my effort to be a good steward of God's creation. I try to sort the recycling from the legitimate trash, and walk to the farm market with my reusable grocery bags in tow. I even considered cloth diapering for like, a day (the idea of poop-filled plastic festering in a landfill for 500 years made me feel like a bit of a fiend for contributing to the crap-pile).

But.... I don't want to spend hundreds of dollars on cloth diapers, and have to rinse poo off of my children all day. Additionally, I'd rather my house smell like the sanitizing, cancer causing, earth-killing chemicals in my kitchen cleaner than use the main ingredient in my favorite salad dressing to clean the house.

Besides, is using biodegradable nappies really going to make a dent in the imminent destruction being imposed upon our planet when I receive piles of junk mail in amounts comparable to Dumbledore trying to tell Harry Potter he's a wizard? (sorry, spoiler alert)

Wired help

When are we going to get robots to do all the work for us? If historic entertainment is any indication, we only have 4 years to develop flying cars as a realistic means of travel, and about 50 years to have robots doing our housework while we live in outer space. I suppose if the apocalypse is coming next year anyway, it's of no consequence whether I have my robot and flying car just yet. However, it'd certainly be beneficial if I had a Rosie to take care of the kids and provide maintenance to my automatic laundry-folding machine so I could go shopping all day. If only I had a time-traveling DeLorean. I could zip to the future to snag some advanced technology and use it to my benefit before next December.

I blame Obama: cancelling the space program and all.

#OrvilleRedenbacher

There's a new phenomenon sweeping the nation: popcorn brain. It sounds like something zombies would be all about (can I have extra butter on those BRAINS?!). However, it seems it's actually something that will turn all of us into zombies: social network zombies.

I wonder what will happen once people realize they're afflicted with this devastating condition. Most likely Google's servers will crash with the influx of "online support groups for popcorn brain" searches, and the Facebook group  "Help, I'm addicted to Facebook" will be the fastest to reach one million "likes."

Now if you'll excuse me, my two month old just sent me a text alerting me to the fact that she wants some nibbles, and my two year old tweeted something about Yo Gabba Gabba.

A little pick-me-"Up"

While I can't say I'd like to be as surly as Carl Fredrickson, I certainly wish to obtain his outstanding ability to overcome the inconvenient affects of aging.  Good old Mr. Fredrickson starts off with a crick in his back and a stair-chair, and finishes of his grand adventure able to navigate the Venezuelan jungle dragging a bungalow held up by balloons. Did you see those evasive maneuvers he used to escape the wrath of Charles Muntz atop the "Spirit of Adventure"?! Awe inspiring.

When he lost his bitterness, he must have gained miraculous regenerative abilities. I hope you're listening, crabby old people!

There's only one prescription for that fever

I was watching the Today Show this morning and found that preteen girls can be unbelievably rude. There was Justin Beiber, trying to discuss his new ladies' perfume and the charities to which he's donating the proceeds, and these tweens just kept screaming and flailing like some rare species of possessed bird. I couldn't even hear what the fellow was saying! Poor Beiber, it looks like we still can't take you seriously.

Although if you'd like to be taken seriously, you probably shouldn't sell ladies' perfume....

Now that's ambitious

When you were a kid, you had a dream job, right? All kids want to grow up to be something amazing. A vet, a doctor, a rocket scientist. My ambition was a little nontraditional, and I have to say I'm moderately jealous of my brother: he gets to wear a costume to work. I don't mean a uniform, I mean a straight-up costume. I wanted to be Chuck E. Cheese, or a professional sports team's mascot; anything where I could where a costume and a big fake head.

I was an odd child.

I admit, my brother hasn't exactly stolen my childhood dream. He wears period clothing at his job at the Henry Ford. No large foam heads involved. However, it is far closer than I've gotten. I think they might frown upon a nurse showing up at work with a giant tiger head attached (although some days I feel like that might be beneficial).

I just hope no one in my family beats me to my new ambition: shooting a hand gun, and driving a motorcycle. Preferably simultaneously.