March 15, 2009 @ 12:53 pm | Filed under: Uncategorized
I had just read these lines at Toddled Dredge, where Veronica so often makes me grin:
During my hiatus, I read Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight. Apparently it is a requirement of being a thirty-something housewife (it’s on the list right between “make ironic references to eighties pop” and “own yoga pants”).
And I thought:
Hey, that’s three strikes for me—I haven’t read Twilight, I don’t own yoga pants, and when I make references to eighties pop I am nearly always completely sincere. (Oh Adam Ant, how I miss you.) (Sincerely.) Huh, guess I’m not a typical thirty-something housewife. OH WAIT I’M NOT A THIRTY-SOMETHING HOUSEWIFE AT ALL NOW THAT I AM FORTY.
Sometimes I forget.
I Don’t Generally Get Too Excited about Shoes
links for 2008-02-22
Can You Tell She Doesn’t Watch Much Television?
O Automated Voice Answering System, How I Despise Thee