My husband laughingly shakes his head while saying these words directed at me at least 8 times a week. This phrase usually follows me saying how "adorbs" Elayne is or that he "totes" should give me a massage.
The truth is, I love abbrevs. My younger sister was way ahead of the trend on this one and we used to make fun of her for incessantly shortening words, but now I just can't get enough of it. I don't often use abbrevs on social media or in my professional life because no self respecting person would do that, right? Howevs, in the safety of my home, it is obvi that there is no reason to not embrace my inner 12 year old and rock the abbrevs with conviction.
Another aspect of my twelve year old self is my periodic obsession with young adult fiction. (Which is actually probably my 17 year old self since these books are not suitable for 12 year olds, IMO.) I once made fun of one the college students I worked with who expressed that she was in love with Edward, who I then learned was a fictional vampire. A few months later, I got it. And by I got it, I mean that I read all 3 "Twilight" books in 3 days and fell head over heels for Edward myself. I followed suit with this 1500 pages in 3 days madness when I discovered "The Hunger Games" and "Divergent" as well. I frequent midnight releases with pride and I legitimately asked my family to get me Hunger Games paraphernalia for Christmas. I am Team Edward and Team Peeta all the way; our friendship will be tested if you disagree and if you are up for debating about this, bring it on, but if you do, I am warning you that you totes don't stand a chance. Also, if you haven't read "Divergent" yet, I triple dog double dare ya not to fall in love with Four. (Coming to a theatre near you March 21, 47 days away!)
Embracing my inner tween also involves the joy of the recognition of things that are inappropriate in everyday life and clinging to them. My sister and brother-in-law who share the last name Schrougham will forever be the Scrotum's (sorry Coy and Michele, sorta) and I have carried around a laminated penis that Keira brought home from church in my wallet for 3 years now. It's not really a penis, I don't think, but she made it as a gift for Father's Day and it sure looks phallic to me. Over 2 years ago I documented the phrases I overheard my hubs and brother in law saying on the notes section of my phone so that I can occasionally remember for a little chuckle. (M: "that's a nice shaft"
C: "that's a big head there."
M: should I clean my balls?
C: well, my sac's done). Contrary to these 3 examples, the need to stifle laughter isn't always a result of references to male genitalia as I also am obsessed with bathroom humor. I'll spare you, but just know that my six-year old even sometimes tells me to please stop being so gross. Whatevs.
I am hoping that the older I get, the younger I'll get. Life is serious, but no need to take it too seriously. Play video games, read meaningless books, speak in shorthand, lick the bowl when you bake, laugh hysterically at natural bodily functions, daydream, imagine, pretend. #yolo
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