follow along on my misadventures in fashion, cooking, writing and adulthood as I rapidly approach 30. 

The Human Versions of Google and Twitter

The Human Versions of Google and Twitter

Long before we turned to Google for every mundane question that we've been too embarrassed to ask another human, there were moms.

You see, my mom is my version of human Google. The questions I ask her from over 3,000 miles away are sometimes things a search engine simply can't know. Sure, there are questions I could ask Google that would definitely provide a satisfactory answer,  but it's not my mom's answer, you know? 

How do I wash a tote bag? (This lead to several follow-ups, including the material [canvas], is there anything on it [a photo of Meg Ryan's ICONIC You've Got Mail character, with "What Would Kathleen Kelly do?" on it] {yes, you should be jealous}, so maybe Google would've been better here.)

How do I make Poppa's meatloaf? 

Do I need to go to the hospital? (Accompanied with a photo of my bloody head after hitting my head in the shower, natch.)

How many motrin pills can I take? Can I drink if I take that many?

And funnily enough, I have become the human version of Twitter for my mom, as she tends to live-text me while watching her favorite shows. Some examples:

"Poor Keo." -- an annual DWTS tweet, as yes, Poor Keo Motsepe does always get paired with the duds. (No disrespect to Shark Tank's Barbara.)

"I just loved The Good Doctor!" -- a succinct fall TV review that ABC execs would love to use as a pull quote. 

"I did not like Resse's hair at the Emmys." -- my mom's thoughts on Reese Witherspoon's hair. (Typo is her own. HOW DARE SHE.) 

"Holy god, Milo V is so hot in so many ways." Keep it in your pants, mom. 

"Those twins on BIP are crazy bitches. Dean redeemed himself last night but he's a prick." -- Gotta love that I got my mom to watch Bachelor in Paradise!

While I sometimes want to write back "Just get a Twitter account!" I secretly love getting these texts, as it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy knowing she's choosing to send these to me, that she wants to share these thoughts, however insgnificant, with me. And it makes me feel even more warm and fuzzy knowing (and hoping) my incessant questions, however insignificant, might make her feel the same way, too. 

No. 2: I Got My Ears Pierced...Again (Again)

No. 2: I Got My Ears Pierced...Again (Again)

The Sorry Experiment

The Sorry Experiment