I bring you, volume II of: Word-association-random-stream-of-consciousness-etc-etc-i-say-the-word-poop.
Turtle: Poop. Ahg! This is what happens when you live with a boy. They teach you gross things like, “turtling” with regards to poop. Think about it. Or don’t. I’m so ashamed.
Cloud: Marshmallows. Particularly marshmallow fluff. Particularly the marshmallow fluff that I used to hide in a hole in my wall when I was in
middle high school.
Digger: A dance move my son created inspired by trucks and Bollywood. It consists of a one arm scooping motion with a gentle rocking of the knees. It’s already penetrated the market. Watch out.
Dentist: Novocain. Drooling. Dogs. Pets are the worst.
Cookies: Cookie Crisp? That was a weird turn. Obvious, I know, but unexpected. Of all things cookie, Cookie Crisp is far and away the worst. What a disappointment.
Opera: Hormonal. Listening to opera on volume 2,000 while crying in the dark when I was 15 because my boyfriend dumped me. 15-year old me, you’re the worst and you really need to lighten the H up.
Blubber: Flubber. Like, the movie. And the time my dad bought us a bootleg copy of it in NYC but he didn’t know it was a bootleg copy. And then it was terrible. Such a waste of purchasing felony contraband.
Bereft: Bereft, b.e.r.e.f.t. Bereft. Use it in a sentence. Her pantry was sparse and bereft of chocolate. Her life was a tragedy.
Egg: Easter. Easter eggs. Jell-o Easter eggs. Bill Cosby. I immediately regret this train of thought.
Apartment: Rats. Rats and murderers and drugs. Uhhh.
Hollister: Head lamp (see photo)
Snicker: Snickerdoodle. The red-headed stepchild of cookies. Right behind Oatmeal Chocolate chip. Getcha oatmeal, out my damn cookie.
Adept: Competent. The word my husband used to describe me when we were dating. Romance isn’t dead, ya’ll.