Blabberings

Always tell the truth. A lie, once uncovered, produces more pain than the truth, told upfront, ever could. You don’t have to tell the whole truth to every single person every single time, but don’t lie. You have the right to say, “I don’t want to talk about this right now” or even “You know what? I love you, but that’s none of your business.” Don’t ever lie.

You will have your feelings hurt, and you will be angry. Vent to one person, the same trustworthy person. Say: “I am telling you this, and I’m laying it down.” And then, do your best to lay it down. Don’t tell things over and over. That only resurfaces the negative feelings and gives the incident control over you.

Little girls and little boys are different. When you tell your daughter to go put on her shoes, she might discuss which is the perfect pair or argue that she doesn’t need to go at this second or just roll her eyes. When you tell your son to go put on his shoes, he will usually obey the first time, but he will climb on every piece of furniture in the house on his way.

To my daughters: Women have more words than men. Don’t be mad at him for not listening to all of yours. Tell your girlfriends the long story, and tell him the “man version” (as your daddy so often reminds me). That is a way you can show him that you love him.

To my son: Women have more words than men. She needs you put down the clicker and give her a few minutes of your undivided attention daily. That is a way you can show her that you love her.

Love is not always sparkles and sunshine. Love is frequently vomit and volcanoes. Say “I love you” every day.

Smile.

Stand up straight.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Always choose kindness. You will never regret walking away and not saying what’s on the tip of your tongue or your fingers. HOWEVER, choosing kindness does not mean being a doormat. Think about how you would want to be treated; then act like that.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Say: “I can’t promise that right now, but I’ll try” or even “I can’t.” If you can’t do it, say “no.” It is okay to say “no” and it is okay to accept “no” as the answer and have neither situation be hurtful. Don’t say you will and later say you’re overwhelmed. Fulfill your commitments.

Beforehand, know what lines you won’t cross; then, by all means, avoid those lines.

Don’t blame “God’s will” or “God’s timing.” Pray about your decision before you make it. Then own it. Don’t throw God under the bus.

Do for family. Do for friends. And sometimes, do for strangers.

To my daughters: Don’t badger him about it. He will get around to it.

To my son: If you go ahead and do it, she won’t badger you about it.

Try to reign in the ridiculous for your first half century, but after you blow out the flames on your 50^th birthday cake, embrace the ridiculous with exclamation points.

When traveling from small-town America to small-town America, chances are you will have to turn at the Dollar General.

Rewind movies before returning them to the rental store, or there will be a dollar fine. (Just seeing if you were still paying attention.)

When you goof, say “I’m sorry.” Don’t justify. Don’t blame the other party. Don’t say: “The reason I yelled was because you made me angry!” Say: “I overreacted and lost my temper and am embarrassed by my behavior. Please forgive me. May I tell you what I was upset about?”

When there is nothing to say to make someone feel better, don’t say: “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better.” Say: “I’m sorry for your hurt” or “I love you.” Better yet, since there’s nothing to say, sit beside your loved one and say nothing.

The words that follow, “I really shouldn’t say this, but . . .” really shouldn’t be said.

Being brave does not mean you are not scared. Be scared, but don’t be a coward. Do the right thing. Cry about it. Try to get some sleep. Take two Excedrin after you’ve had a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. Then, suck it up and do it.

Don’t chatter. Don’t trust the chatterers. If they chatter TO you, they will chatter ABOUT you. And when you goof and chatter, remember how awful it feels to be chattered about, take a deep breath, and count to 10 before you chatter the next time.

Go on vacation. Don’t nickel and dime yourself while you’re gone. Don’t gripe about the cost. Have a good time. Relive the funny stuff at the dinner table, over and over and over.

Go to funerals. Celebrate life.

Return phone calls. RSVP.

“It just ain’t a party without pickles.” (Gloria Dump in Because of Winn Dixie by Kate DiCamillo)

When all you can see is wrong in someone, make a list of everything she does right. Probably, she gets more right than wrong.

Usually, a person who seems egotistical is shy or afraid.

Most folks are good people. Most folks are not petty nor angry nor manipulative. Most folks are doing the best they can.

Marry for funny. Beauty fades, and waistlines swell. Funny is forever. (Tweet that.)

Balance every forgettable fiction with classic literature. Read the Book of the Month, but don’t leave The Count of Monte Cristo and Great Expectations unfinished.

Try to stay away from soda, but eat something chocolate every afternoon at 4:00.

Buy Steve Green’s Hide ‘Em in Your Heart for your children. When they whine, sing:

Do everything without complaining.

Do everything without ar-gu-ing,

So that you may be-come

Blameless and pure

Chi-il-dren of God.

Listen to what you are singing to them, and think about the people you know who never have anything nice to say, and think about how unattractive that is and how you don’t want to be like that person, and then sing to yourself:

Do everything without complaining.

Do everything without ar-gu-ing,

So that you may be-come

Blameless and pure

Chi-il-dren of God.

And sing this: Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other’s gold.

Sing this, too: Oh, be careful little feet where you go . . . .

Date your mate. Go to concerts. Drive to the beach, just for lunch. Hold hands. Cling tightly and protectively when the earth quakes and the water rises. Pick each other up when life sucker punches.

Don’t get into the bragging competition. Let the other person win. You know how awesome your kids are. You don’t have to prove it. (But you can tell me all about them, so remember to Call Your Mother.)

Leave the children at home with your spouse and meet your friend at the grocery store after bedtime. You can fellowship and fill your buggies while the store is quiet and the parking lot is empty.

After Daddy and I die, don’t forget to nurture your relationships with your siblings.

Always be a good friend. Good friends don’t avoid the ugly. Good friends don’t offer gossip as prayer requests. Good friends go to lunch and ask: “May I help you bear your burden?” Then, they go to lunch the next week. And the next. And the week after that. For as long as the burden exists. Even if it is forever.

When you are weary of hoping and don’t believe in [insert whatever] anymore, let somebody else believe for you, until you right yourself. The inverse is also true. Believe for your Beloveds, when they are exhausted.

In the South, casserole is a love language. If you are cherished enough to score a mess of peas and some cornbread, too, count your blessings as you sop the pot likker.

Pack sunscreen AND an umbrella, ‘cause you never know.

We say, “You’re welcome.” We do not say, “No problem.” We are not Jamaican, mon.

You have no right to be disappointed in a gift, whether it’s a tangible one from a Beloved or an intangible one from Above.

A tidal wave washes away everything in its path. A river winds and gurgles and flows. Both bring about change. Don’t be destructive. Be refreshing.

Say your prayers when times are good. (You have so much to be thankful for.) Say your prayers when times are so heavy you can physically feel the anguish. (You have so much to be thankful for.) When you don’t know what to pray, pray anyway, because that is a kind of prayer in itself.

You don’t have to rock the world. Actually, I doubt you will. Most people don’t. I would rather you bloom where you are planted.

Take the pictures. Write the stories. Tell the tales. 

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

When the kids were little, they reprimanded me or each other when one of us said hate.

“MOMMY! She said HATE!!!”

I don’t remember being strict about the word. Maybe that came from school. I wouldn’t blame teachers for banning it. It serves no purpose in elementary school.

When the girls were 8 or 9, when they had completed the 2^nd or 3^rd grade, when Phillip was 4 or 5, we had a summer-long discussion about hate: the word and the concept.

I know that’s the time frame, because it was the summer that Abby was obsessed with Star Wars (a time Emma certainly hated). Abby, my budding geek, was concerned that Luke said to Obi-Wan: Look, I can’t get involved. I’ve got work to do. It’s not that I like the Empire; I hate it, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. She thought her hero had said a bad word.

I told them that hate is neither a bad word nor a bad emotion. It is a strong word reserved for a strong emotion. While there are surely things worth hating, they were a little young to be trusted to use the word correctly. We began a list of things worthy of hatred:

Obviously, the Empire

The Devil

Cockroaches

We discussed many other things that summer, but nothing else seemed as deserving of the word as the trinity listed above.

That’s where our list began and ended until several years later, when Emma added:

Frogs

Mustard

I don’t know why Emma hates frogs, but she does. She is 21 years old now and knows her own heart. She can hate frogs if she wants to.

Without a doubt, she hates mustard. She was a good eater from the start. She was never afraid to taste new things. As a toddler, she would eat from my plate the onions that I picked out of my pepper steak at the Chinese buffet. If she says, “No mustard,” she means it. If the restaurant accidentally puts mustard on my cheeseburger, I scrape it off and cover the taste with ketchup. Not Emma. She won’t touch it. She returns it to the kitchen.

“I asked for no mustard, and this has mustard.”

(Don’t tell her I said this, but I think it’s more of an irrational fear than hatred. She has had four surgeries on her jaw, is facing two more, and doesn’t flinch at the sight of a needle. Every week, she stares down a Sunday school class full of 2^nd and 3^rd grade boys with joy in her heart. She is a brave young woman who cowers only at the sight of the WOOF Wolf and a certain yellow condiment.)

On a lesser note . . .

Some Things I Don’t Like

#wherehasthetimegone – It went at the grocery store and the pediatrician’s office. It went running carpool and watching soccer games. It went in time-outs for back-talking and smack-talking. It went kissing boo-boos, scratching backs, practicing multiplication tables, and reading bedtime stories.

Geometry – It is straight from the pits of hell. Actually, add this one to the list of things I hate. “Just make a 60 and get on with your life.”

The time change – I prefer Standard Time, the real time, the one on the sun dial. It is hard for this night owl to get up before the sun. However, to the folks who make this decision: PICK ONE AND LEAVE IT ALONE!

Pickled peaches – Other than alliteration, why would a person choose to pour preservative on God’s most palatable pleasure? I relish pickled veggies (see what I did there?), but pickled fruit?! Please pardon my puke.

Mascara – It smears under my eyes, darkens the circles I’ve had my entire life, and keeps me angry at friends with pretty eyelashes.

So, too, really, only, very – Is SO much more than much? Is TOO true more than true? Is REALLY unique more than unique? My exception (Is ONLY exception more than exception?) sings “Let’s start at the VERY beginning” with Maria.

Literally – “He was literally 100 feet tall.” No, he wasn’t. He was figuratively 100 feet tall, really so very tall.

(and Some Things I Do)

Tings – I have a Jamaican friend whom I talk to frequently on the phone. I like to hear her say tings instead of things. Maybe this list should be Some Tings I Don’t Like (and Some Tings I Do).

70s rock and roll and 80s country – I don’t know what music was popular in the 90s or the 00s. (I’ve heard mention about some boy bands.) I spent those decades listening to Hide ‘Em In Your Heart by Steven Curtis Chapman and Radio Disney. Currently in the 10s, I can’t get enough of hymns: Alan Jackson’s Precious Memories, Amy Grant’s Legacy, Kate Campbell’s Wandering Strange, Chris Rice’s Peace Like a River, Selah’s Greatest Hymns.

“We thought you was a toad.” – Delmar to Pete, O Brother, Where Art Thou?

A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel – Females born in or around 1965 need this book, especially those who had a sincere love of Glen Campbell.

Words – units, representations, expressions, utterances

Adjectives – modifiers, qualifiers, identifiers, descriptors

Thesaurus – list, reference, lexicon, onomasticon

Florida rest areas – Driving east and south, I like the 60s-era picnic pavilions nestled among pines and live oaks and palm trees and palmetto plants and WE ARE GOING TO DISNEY!!

Driving north and west, I like that they are spaced 30 miles apart.

“Do you need to tinkle?”

“No, but I will in a half an hour.”

Papa Ramsey’s homemade bread and butter pickles – Please see above reference to inappropriate pickling.

Retractable cords

The do-it-yourself package machine at the post office

The large recycle bin that rolls to the curb – I like it even on Wednesdays, when Chuck forgets and puts it out a night early.

Foghorn Leghorn – “I say, boy, pay attention when I’m talkin’ to ya, boy.”

Birthdays on Facebook

Breakfast for supper

Happy Endings.

Click here to read “Some Things I Like (and Some Things I Don’t).”

 

Read a good book. Go to the library and check out a hard-backed copy. Smell the pages. Listen to the plastic covering crinkle.

Read The Good Book. Start with James, and don’t skip over the part about the tongue.

Drive in the country. Walk in the park.

Rock a baby.

Sing “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.”

Suck the juice out of an orange, then peel back the rind and devour the guts of it.

Call your oldest relative. Or better yet, visit her. Look at her fading pictures. Listen to her same old stories. Ask her to tell you about your mama.

Bake some cookies. Eat some dough.

Make a list.

Scratch a dog.

Fold the towels. Load the dishwasher.

Wander around an old cemetery. Find the person who lived the longest. And the briefest.

Catch a patch of sunshine. Feel it warm on your skin. Close your eyes.

Pick some flowers. Pull some weeds.

Paint your toenails (or at least clip them).

Write a thank-you note.

Take a long, hot bath.

Pour cold, iced tea into a jelly glass. Sip it in the bathtub.

Hold hands.

Fry some bacon in an iron skillet.

Poke around a junk shop.

Watch The Andy Griffith Show, preferably an episode with Ernest T. Bass. (“I’m a little mean, but I make up for it by being REAL healthy!”)

Buy a new coloring book and a fresh box of Crayola crayons, not cheap ones.

Pray without ceasing.

Count your blessings.

 

 

I am thankful that the act of giving thanks helps me to loosen my grip on my self-pity and pride.

I am thankful for a decade of internet-free Thanksgiving weekends enjoyed by Conners in pajamas at the Kings’ Inn at Lake Eufaula, Alabama. I am thankful for quality time spent with Andy Griffith, the Heck Family, and all the members of the Peanuts Gang.

I am thankful for the memory of Mama’s fried pork chops and pound cake. I am thankful that she taught me to love Jesus and my husband, to laugh loudly, and to not be a whiner.

I am thankful for bedtime back tickles.

I am thankful for plastic pink flamingos.

I am thankful for the intersection of Hwy 231 and Hwy 84 and the Circle that surrounds it.

I am thankful for chocolate. I am thankful for peanut butter. I am thankful for a Reese’s Cup at 4:00 in the afternoon.

I am thankful for Amazing Grace—the gift and the song.

I am thankful for words like oxymoron, redundant, and onomatopoeia.

I am thankful for butter beans and fried cornbread.

I am thankful for Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” and for the remake by Iz.

I am thankful for friends who share meals whenever life is especially complicated.

I am thankful that Daddy said, “Lemme get my hat” whenever he was ready to go. I am thankful that he said, “I got a bone in my leg” when he didn’t want to get his hat.

I am thankful for priceless family heirloom jewelry.

I am thankful for “peaceful dwelling places, secure homes, and undisturbed places of rest.” (Isaiah 32:18ish)

I am thankful for Johann Gutenberg.

I am thankful for four healthy pancreases and one high-tech insulin pump.

I am thankful for Sunday Dinner with Beloveds and naps.

I am thankful for bunnies and yarn, drumsticks and Rubik’s Cubes, American Pickers and Doctor Who.

I am thankful that I like to go to church.

I am thankful for property taxes and car payments and college tuition.

I am thankful for the smell of a sweet shrub. It reminds me of Little Granny. She always sang, “Oh it isn’t any trouble just to S-M-I-L-E,” especially when you were having a little trouble.

I am thankful for a long ago romance at summer camp with a guitar picker.

I am thankful for black and white photos.

I am thankful for routine. I am thankful for breaks in routine. I am thankful to get back into routine.

I am thankful for the combination of sweet tea and girlfriends. I am thankful that I can count my daughters, my sisters, and my nieces as my girlfriends, too.

I am thankful for football. I don’t care about the details of the game. I don’t care about passes and punts and interceptions. I love the pageantry. I love the colors and the traditions, and Lordy Mercy, I love the bands. I love good-natured rivalries and that people are passionate about their teams. I guess I’m kinda like a vegetarian at Thanksgiving. I know that folks gathered for the turkey—and I’m glad they did—but I’ll just have the fixin’s.

I am thankful for those who escaped the fires—literally and figuratively. I am thankful that “When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” (Isaiah 43:2)

I am thankful for road trips and for a husband who doesn’t mind frequent potty breaks.

I am thankful that my children love to hear the Same Old Stories over and over and over again. (“Have I ever told you about the time . . . ?”)

I am thankful for rhyme,

‘Cause most of the time

A cheerful couplet will make me smile

For a while.

When my smile turns upside-down

Into a frown,

I remember my Ancient Friend

And smile again.

I am thankful for a son who spouts words of wisdom like, “Never call a woman fat to her face” and who sings “Look Down” from Les Miz as he hauls the trash to the road.

I am thankful for giggles and guffaws, cackles and chuckles, side-splitting belly laughs and har-de-har hars.

I am thankful for old friends and new friends and generations of friends.

I am thankful for hot baths, warm flannel Mickey Mouse jammies, and cold chocolate milk. (That may look like three separate things, but it’s not.)

I am thankful that I had two babies at the same time.

I am thankful that “his compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22-23) I am thankful that I get another chance today.

To quote Chuck’s Beloved Nana, “I can’t think of a thing that I’m not thankful for.” (Well, except roachie-bugs. But I AM thankful for the funny/scary stories that Little Granny used to make up (when we were sleeping on the floor!) about the Monster and the Roachie-Bug. I think the Roachie-Bug was scarier than the Monster. Presently, I am thankful for the enthusiasm that Biscuit has about killing the wretched satanic spawn and the satisfaction she shows in herself when they stop kicking.)

I am thankful that I was taught gratitude as a child. It makes finding ways to give thanks as an adult much less difficult.

They each have 3 stanzas, like all good country songs.

“The Prom Dress in Pictures”

A Night in Fantasyland, Northview High School, 1983

Dress Up Finery, Conner Playroom, 2005

Pageant Set Decoration, Northview High School, 2012

“Mama, Don’t Be Funny (You’re Driving Me Nuts)”

“She Doesn’t Look Like She’s Wearing Clothes (She Looks Like She’s Been Bedazzled)”

“It’s Just Like Ozark (Just a Little Farther Away)”

“Santa Claus Ain’t Coming (If You Don’t Clean Up Your Room)”

“He Was an Outcast among the Rejects (In the Shade of the Penske Truck)”

“I’m So Excited about Sleeping Late (I’m Going to Bed Early Toni-ight)”

“It’s Laundry Day and My Kitchen’s a Mess (Play Me a Sad Country Tune)”

“Man, I’m Really Thirsty (Actually, I Just Want a Pop Tart)”

“Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (‘Til You Find Out What They’re Worth and Cash ‘Em In)”

“Tide Hoopla Never Dies Down (It Just Ebbs and Flows)”

“When the Cute Wears Off (She Will Still Be Rich)”

“Mama, You’re Embarrassing Me (and There’s No One Even Around)”

“It’s Not Always about You, Rebecca Ramsey (Sometimes It’s about Me)”

“The Problem with Math Teachers (They’ve Never Had a Problem with Math)”

“You Better Not Make Eye Contact (He’ll Tell You Something to Do)”

“Hold On a Minute (Let Me Tweet My Blog)”

“It Would Be Hilarious (If It Wasn’t Happening to Me)”

“He’ll Have to Marry Before My Funeral (So He’ll Know What to Wear)”

“We Had to Write Down Our Strengths (So I Lied My Little Heart Out)”

“Hell Is Just a Waiting Room (and the Doctor Never Calls Your Name)”

“It Was Just a Little Salty (It Was Like Your Mama Made It for Me)”

I overheard every one of the titles in conversation, including the four I heard myself say. (Figure ’em out.) Simply because a girl talks a lot, doesn’t mean she is not listening as well. (And that sounds like a country song, too.)

 

Some Things I Like

Lists – I don’t click on every list I see of “17 Things You Don’t Know about This Person You’ve Never Heard of Who Is In Fact a Big-Time Celebrity and So Uber-Cool that Your College-Aged Daughters Might Not Have Heard of Her Either,” but I click on a lot of them. (You had me at 17 Things.)

High school reunions – Nobody cares how fat other people are at 50 years old. They are fat, too. I have made new friends with former classmates while AT the reunion. (Stop making excuses. Go to your reunions.)

Cluttered bookshelves – Not Southern Living bookshelves. Real life, dust-covered bookshelves . . .

• Stacked with new releases, old classics, and a travel guide to Jamaica
• Overflowing with textbooks, scrapbooks, and Playbills from touring Broadway productions
• Laden with favorite pictures, children’s books, and Granny’s salt and pepper shakers encrusted with sea shells and a pink flamingo painted on the front
• (Bunnies are optional.)

Bathroom heaters – Brrrr! Ahhhh!

Christmas cards – If Christmas cards become obsolete in my lifetime, I’m not putting a tree up. I’m cancelling Christmas and going on a cruise. I want to hold my own pictures of my friends’ children and grandchildren. Is that too much to ask?

Skinny jeans

American Top 40 replays on 70s on 7 – “The hits from coast to coast.” All over again.

350 degrees for 30 minutes

Poseidon – One Saturday last May, Phillip appeared at our lake cabin with a tiny yellow-bellied slider. He spent the day with his buddy Brett. They found the turtle at The Island. Brett’s parents thought it would be a great idea for Phillip to KEEP the turtle, “because he is so cute” (the turtle, not the Boy). I don’t do critters very well. If I do a critter, I prefer a store-bought one. I would NEVER have allowed anybody on my watch to take a lake critter home with him. Nobody really asked me. Brett’s mama came over later with a hand-me-down tank and some turtle food and put blood worms in my freezer. (WHAT?!)

Phillip named him Poseidon, because Brett’s yellow-bellied slider that he found in a parking lot at the zoo in New Orleans was named Zeus. AARRGGHH!! “Did you feed the turtle?” “Turn the tank light on.” “Turn the tank light off.” “Did you feed the turtle?”

By Thanksgiving, the second-hand tank was dying. Poseidon lived all day long downstairs by himself. It is dark downstairs, and the tank light finally broke. So, for Christmas, as a gift TO ME from the children, I asked for a new tank. And that we put it upstairs. So Poseidon wouldn’t be lonely. And could get some sunshine.

Presently, Poseidon splashes in his new, big tank. He swims frantically in the bubbly water cascading from the filter like he is Crush in the EAC. He climbs on the rocks that Brett’s mom stole from the lake and sticks his little turtle head out of the water. Chuck feeds him by hand. I watch him frolic and listen to the water gurgle. Everything about Poseidon soothes me and makes me happy. (Don’t tell Brett’s mom. She thinks I’m still mad.)

“My Favorite Things” – Is it redundant to put the song “My Favorite Things” on a list of my favorite things?

Words with a q – antiquated, loquacious, bequeath

REESTER EGGS!!!

“I may be ignorant, but I ain’t stupid!” – Loretty to Doo, Coal Miner’s Daughter

Party pictures with multi-colored friends

Old hymns recorded by contemporary musicians – Listen to “Nothin’ but the Blood” by Alan Jackson and “Fairest Lord Jesus” by Amy Grant and try to hold back a hearty “Amen!”

A hearty “Amen!”

Hard copies, large print, blue ink pens

Kathie Lee and Hoda – I will never be Fan of the Week. They will never give me an Ambush Makeover. But if I’m at home at 10:00 am, and I remember, I’m gonna look for some laundry to fold in front of the TV. KLG and Hoda are funny and kind, and their show makes me smile.

Old cemeteries

Alliteration – “Good Golly at the groceries, Girlfriend!” (I especially like p.) “Pass the peas, please, Penelope.” (I don’t know a Penelope, but if I were an old British woman, I would like to be named Penelope. I would be peculiar, persnickety, and punctual.)

A worn out copy of Go Dog, Go! – “A dog party! A big dog party! Big dogs, little dogs, red dogs, blue dogs, yellow dogs, green dogs, black dogs, and white dogs are all at a dog party! What a dog party!” (Please see above references to high school reunions and multi-colored friends.)

(And Some Things I Don’t)

Makeovers – Once a week, Katie Lee and Hoda have an Ambush Makeover. Almost every single time, I prefer the “Before” picture to the “After” picture. In the “After” pics, the women don’t look like themselves. I think women are prettier without so much makeup and hair color. I think most women just need a cute haircut, eyebrows and mustaches waxed, and a good bra to pull the girls back up closer to where they were to begin with.

Self-checkouts – It’s not so much that I hate them; it’s that they hate me.

Separate – Can we just agree to spell it seperate?

Affect/effect – UGH! WHO CARES!!!

French-Fry-Free February – It is a self-imposed alliterative diet, and I hate it.

Diet Pepsi – Why, oh, why, oh, why, oh, why, oh, why?!

Coconut – It’s a good thing I wasn’t on the Minnow. I would never have survived on Gilligan’s Island.

ALL CAPS –ALL CAPS ARE ONLY TO BE USED FOR EMPHASIS! AND EASY ON THE EXCLAMATION POINTS, TOO!!!!

The live-action Grinch movie – Excluding “Where Are You Christmas,” the makers of the movie Missed. The. Whole. Point.

A laser pointer in the hands of a boy (regardless of age)

“Just sayin’” – Obviously. It was just said. I’m just sayin’ that since it was just said, I get that whoever is “just sayin’” is just sayin’. And “just sayin’” doesn’t cover the sin of whatever was just said. To cover the sin of whatever was just said, one must just say, “Bless your heart.” (Just sayin’.)