This week, I didn’t eat my earrings. Twice.

I mean, I came close but I didn’t actually swallow them.

You see, sometimes when I’m in a hurry, I’ll grab some studs and my daily vitamins and drop them in my pocket or throw them in my purse as I’m running out the door.

Out of habit, I will grab those little entities and throw them in my mouth without focusing on exactly what they are. Just assuming they’re some hair vitamins or some turmeric (for my trick knee…story for another day). Shortly thereafter, here comes the water to wash them down and BAM that’s all she wrote.

This is actually an x-ray of a dog, but you get the idea. Picture from Doggy Stuff

This is actually an x-ray of a dog. But you get the idea.
Picture from Doggy Stuff

I’ve googled a bunch of stuff and read WebMD articles trying to prepare for the day that I eat my earrings…because I feel that it is pretty inevitable. I’ve learned that people with tongue rings swallow them all the time. And apparently, they don’t die. So I’ll probably be okay.

So anyway, this week I didn’t eat my earrings…twice. Crises averted. Everybody go back to what you were doing.

Until next time…

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Guest Post: The Top One Reason Why Living By Yourself Sux Sometimes

Magnet for Foolishness:

Thought this was worth reblogging. I wrote this for another site a few years ago, but it happened to me again this week!

Originally posted on cilnblog:

Can I Laugh Now? *Encouraging you to see the humor in life’s embarrassing moments.

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him the be power for ever and ever. Amen.” 1 Peter 5: 9-11

Kitta and I have decided to spotlight our favorite bloggers by inviting them to be guest bloggers for CILN to share a post with all of you, our Laughers! We are going to kick it off with Sonya of Magnet for Foolishness with…

The Top One Reason Why Living By Yourself Sux Sometimes

I’ve always said that my days of having a roommate are over. The…

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I can’t be the only one…

I can’t be the only one…


It could all be so simple…     Image via

…who doesn’t like a whole lotta stuff in their stuff.  What happened to the days of the banana nut muffin? Why these days do folks offer you gluten-free , dairy-free, banana nut quinoa encrusted kale chips with a dash of bunny ears, the tears of a virgin, the roasted armpit hairs of a billy goat, a hint of blueberry mustard and liquefied dandelion liver topped with crushed tortoise shell and a sprinkling of white chocolate coated fingernails? Please don’t come to me with that sh!t. You will get your feelings hurt.

I can’t be the only one…

…who had to take an involuntary break from blogging because I could not remember the password to my account but tried so many times that it locked me out because it thought I was a hacker.

I can’t be the only one…

…who refuses to make more than one trip from the car to the house when I come home from the grocery store. Whatever ain’t got in the first trip ain’t gon’ get got. But it usually all gets got because…

Image via

Image via

I also can’t be the only one…

…who had to institute a rule that all the groceries have to go in the passenger seat or floor because if I put stuff in the trunk, I will forget that it is there. One would think this would be very hard to do, but one would be wrong! You don’t realize that you left groceries in the trunk until the next time you go to the trunk to put groceries in there, and there is already a ton of stuff from the last time you went to the store.

I can’t be the only one…

…who goes to sleep so they won’t eat anything else. Like that is the only way to stop eating, just go to sleep. I can’t stay awake and not eat. It is terrible.

I can’t be the only one…

…who gets heartburn from drinking a glass of water.

I can’t be the only one…

…who cringes every time I hear somebody say “flustrated”. You’re either flustered or frustrated. You’re not flustrated because there is no such thing.

I can’t be the only one…

…who just looked up  “flustrated” in the dictionary….and it’s there.


I can’t be the only one…

…who cannot stand when I’m under the dryer at the salon and nosy people try to read what I’m typing. The last lady that looked at my computer screen while I was typing…well…they still haven’t found her body.

Until next time…

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Let’s talk about STRESS, ba-by…

I know I’ve been M.I.A. for a while, but I’m back for a minute so let’s get this party started.

First, do you know what stress is? I do. I’ve had a front row seat to it for the past three months. Stress is when you lose 11 lbs. over three months and don’t even realize it til one day you step on the scale and are like, “WHOA! I lost 11 lbs!” I mean, clearly you were really busy if you didn’t weigh yourself for three months. Then all of a sudden it made total sense why your jeans fell to your ankles when you put them on. I mean, who doesn’t notice that they lost 11 lbs?! Unless you weigh like 311 lbs.

Stress is when you go to sleep and wake up feeling like you got hit by a bus (but in a good way) and your sleep mask is around your ankle, your head scarf is wrapped securely around your thigh, and both of your ear plugs are missing. MISSING. I’ll just leave that right there.

Stress is when you get up and walk out in the middle of a massage because it was so bad. Which is no small feat given that you’re pretty naked. Stress is when you get another massage at a different place the next day to compensate for the sucky one you had the day before and your stomach starts growling during the massage and the massage therapist’s stomach is growling, too, and your stomachs sound like they are having a conversation with each other and then you both start laughing so hard you feel delirious and laugh yourself to sleep and couldn’t be rolled over for the rest of the massage. Stress is when you get another massage at a different “spa” the following week and the massage therapist busts out his CD collection and asks if you want to listen to Michael Jackson or Keith Sweat.

Stress is when you have too many run-on sentences in a post and don’t care.

This is my life. All day, everyday.

This is my life. All day, everyday.

Stress is when that damn TPMS light keeps coming on in your car cuz apparently your tires are suuuuuper temperamental and are constantly underinflated or overinflated but never rightly inflated because they want to make your life miserable. And then you take the car to the shop and they’re like, “Ma’am, did you know you had a nail stuck in your tire?” And you’re like, “Yeah, I saw it but figured if I pulled it out the tire would instantly deflate…so I just left it in there. It’ll be alright…it’s only been in there for a few weeks.” Then they take the nail out and patch the hole up, but a week later the freakin’ light comes on AGAIN. So you go to the neighborhood gas station that lets you get free air and pump all your tires so full there’s NO WAY that TPMS light won’t go off and you dare it to ever come on again! But then you ride around for a few more days and the light doesn’t go off so you take it back to the shop and they’re all like, “Ma’am, who was the last person to put air in your tires?” And you’re like, “Uhhhh…I don’t know…you?” “And they’re all, “The reason your light is on is because your tires are way too inflated. Usually you should have 30-40 lbs per tire…you had almost 80 lbs in this one tire! Do you know how dangerous that is?” And you’re like, “Do you know how dangerous YO MAMA is?!”

Stress is when you haven’t gone to the grocery store in months so you’re piecing together a meal that consists of whatever you can find at that moment that will help you to not die. That turns out to be a handful of sunflower seeds, a can of tuna, some string cheese, a few spoonfuls of Ragu spaghetti sauce, and some pineapple Ciroc.

Stress is when the housekeeper comes in and takes one look around the house and asks if she can pray with you before she gets started. Then proceeds to say a prayer in Spanish.

And speaking of the homie Haysoos Kleesto (Jesus Christ for those of you without a sense of humor), stress is when you roll up to church all suited and booted and the parking lot is empty and the door is locked and its dark inside and you’re all, “What the heck? People don’t go to church anymore?!” And then you realize it’s not Sunday…it’s Saturday.

Actually, now that I think about it, none of this is what stress is. These are all by-products of being stressed. *sighs*

Stress is when you realize you either need to change the first few sentences of your post to match what you wrote throughout the rest of the post or write a new post to match those first few sentences. Stress is when you’re like, “To hell with all of this! I’m publishing this post right n

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Foolishness Overload!

This about sums everything up.

This about sums everything up. (Image is not my own…got it out of my Twitter feed.)


Hey! Remember me?

Just stopping in to say “Hi” and “I miss you”.

So…Hi. I miss you.

My life has been extra foolish lately so I decided to take a step back from a few things. But don’t worry. I remember everything in great detail so I will have bigger and better foolishness for you when I return.

Until next time…

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4 Things I Learned During the 2014 Holiday Season

1) When playing Scrabble SLAM with the fam….wait…don’t play Scrabble SLAM with the fam. And if you decide to, don’t start the game with words like “jump”. Or “very”. Because you can only change one letter at a time, you will be very limited in the new four-letter words you can create. You will wind up sitting there for hours playing a game that you were initially very excited to play and now you’re stumped and bored and annoyed cuz you can’t think of anymore words so you just decide to get another plate of food. I mean, you’re at the kitchen table so why not? Actually, Scrabble SLAM is hard regardless of what word you start with. You wind up bending the rules and allowing ‘words’ like “atim” or “wint” to pass cuz you’re just sick of the game and want it to be over. But also, and this is the more likely circumstance with me, whoever you’re playing with put those words down and were super serious and thought they were real words and you were laughing so hard that you’re incapacitated and meanwhile they SLAM all over your azz and you lose cuz you’re sitting there laughing. There is also a possibility that you will use an abundance of words that may or may not be legit words like “puke” and “barf” because you’re that desperate.

2) Your parents may be hipper than you think. One of my parents gave the other a gift and the tag read “To: Bae, From: Bae” on it. I may have even seen a tag or two that said “To: Boo, From: Bae.” #iDied. They’re clearly more hip than me cuz they use words like “bae” and I still use words like “hip”.

3) Crazy country cuzzins gon’ crazy country cuz. I can’t even type out the conversations I had with them foolz. Same conversations that I have every freakin’ year. Just read THIS. Then print it out and make them read it. PLEASE!

4) If you have Indian takeout the night before your flight out for the holidays, TAKE THE TRASH OUT! Or you will have a very unpleasant surprise when you return home.

Any lessons learned from the 2014 holiday season? Did you make resolutions for 2015? Share with me…

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Kickin’ it With My Homies – The Foolishness Chronicles, Part 4

So yeah, no. Not this hawk. Image via

So yeah, no. Not this hawk.
Image via

“The Hawk.”

That was my homie last week.

For those of you who don’t know, defines “The Hawk” as “What black people call the wind — especially in Chicago.”

So here’s the scene. I was in Costco looking for some seltzer water. I stopped to get a sample of chips and salsa, and that’s where the conversation with an employee ensued. She began:

“Hi, how are you today?”

“I’m fine. And you?” (After this incident, you’d think I would’ve stopped asking that question but whatevs.)

“Well, I’m okay. I get off in a few hours.”

“Oh, good. I bet you’re glad.”

“I’ve been working here for three years and I’ve never dreaded getting off work more than I do today.”

“Really? Why?”

The Hawk. The Hawk is gon’ get me.”

“Oh. Okay. The Hawk? Okay. Is the seltzer water that way or…?”

“It’s so cold outside. I don’t want to leave. The Hawk is out there and he’s gon’ get me while I walk to the bus stop. Then he’s gon’ get me while I stand at the bus stop. Then while I’m on the bus because they don’t run the heat.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. Why don’t they run the heat?”

“I don’t know, but I told my son about The Hawk. He is a police officer in D.C. And technically I live in Maryland, so he isn’t supposed to do anything but he does.”

“About The Hawk? What does he do? What can he do?”

“He calls all around to the train stations and bus stations to make sure he finds me and that I get home before dark.”

“But it gets dark early now. It’s dark outside right now!”

“I have two sons. One is younger, but this one was born in December. He has a birthday coming up soon.”

“But what does that have to do with—”

“I need to figure out what I’m going to get him for his birthday. He is a good son. I also have a daughter.”

“Ma’am, where is the seltzer wa—”

“They just need to make sure I make it to the bus before it get’s dark and that they run the heat. Or else my son will come find them. But The Hawk don’t play.”

“Have a good evening, ma’am.”

I had to get outta there. I ran through “The Hawk” to the car. With some hard bread and some moisturizer. Never did find the seltzer water.

Until next time…

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