<p>Or be wildly embarassed at your stepping out of the mom comfort zone:).</p>
<p>However, my son and I had dinner with a woman in her 40’s the other day. The woman used the term “Hella”, as in very. My son was in fact duly impressed. As in, how cool was she?</p>
<p>OK, I can’t stand it. My guilt is overcoming me. I have a cheat sheet. </p>
<p>I actually asked my S, l8 and home for the summer, to name a hip dance so I could impress you people.</p>
<p>He issued forth “crunk” and “hype” and then demonstrated “hype” for us. I even had to ask him how to spell it before I typed it.</p>
<p>Now I need to go to confessional in a naugahyde booth. I am truly a sinner. Mea maxima culpa. Hope I can stay in the alley…</p>
<p>Here the words Mea Maxima Culpa might be sung to the tune of Bring Back my Bonnie to Me.</p>
<p>Me-ah, Me-ah, Mea Maxima Culpa Mea</p>
<p>or any other alternative tune. Without Sinners there is no Alley.</p>
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</p>
<p>I sin, therefore I al.</p>
<p>Eagerly await the chorus of Latin set to music…we’re up onto a new level here. Stratospheric. Let’s see how long it lasts..</p>
<p>Running to groceries.</p>
<p>Oooh, ooh, tell me how to entice the Purge Fairy to my house!</p>
<p>You can call me Al.</p>
<p>And here I thought that crunk was a kind of hip-hop dance. Shows what I know. :o</p>
<p>mathmom - you have to put diamonds on the soles of her shoes:).</p>
<p>gladmom, that’s what I got from wiki. So… still a Loser despite all the tutoring from my hipster Alley friends. </p>
<p>Here, come sit by me and mafool in the Losers to the 2nd Power booth.</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>Good one!!!</p>
<p>Still losing, after all these years</p>
<p>^^^ no, p3t… you’re the hip one. Remember?</p>
<p>Diamonds? I lost the only diamond I had. It fell out of my wedding ring never to be seen again.</p>
<p>Oh my – I’m out of the Alley for a day and I’m left behind in the dust! Showing my age and advanced state of uncoolness, I used Urban Dictionary to look up crunk. OK, now I know what that means, but what blew me away is how many zillions of entries there are – I’m surprised I can still communicate w/ anyone. (Hmmm, maybe D & S would argue I can’t…) Honestly, it was a foreign language dictionary!</p>
<p>As for my basement cleaning project – I’ll take any and all help from both the Purge Fairy and the marmots. H refuses to help, so I’m left alone sifting through the pieces of our collective pasts. Every time I’m down there it’s like being in a time warp, and I feel as if the only way to get home is to click my heels – only I’m wearing sneakers instead of ruby slippers.</p>
<p>CBB - since your husband refuses to help with the basement I’d begin by throwing away all of his stuff! Then you’ve got half as much to “clean.”</p>
<p>Okay I know I am not suppose to post anything political, but I just cracked up on this one about McCains 96 yr old Mom…so forgive me! </p>
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</p>
<p>We went to Italy when I was 40 from NC and no way was I awake enough to drive let alone to figure out how to get around…I wonder how much it costs to buy a rental car! </p>
<p>Again sorry I am still laughing about it</p>
<p>Whenever I go to a foreign country…or just take a long plane/taxi/subway-involved trip, I am so tired and sensory-overloaded, for the first 24 hours I need a babysitter (my DH) to tell me where to go, what to order in the restaurant, and how to pay for it in funny money. </p>
<p>I couldn’t imagine driving a car under those circumstances, much less buying one!</p>
<p>If I was a reporter I would have asked how much did she sell it for?</p>
<p>I laugh at all of the plausible scenarios…</p>
<p>Mrs. McCain okay I’ll buy it then…how much?</p>
<p>Agent we only rent</p>
<p>Mrs. McCain let me speak to someone in charge</p>
<p>I am sorry it is too funny to think that a 96 yr old women in a foreign country who is not recognizeable as a celebrity wasn’t carted off to looney bin !</p>
<p>Well bump.</p>
<p>And the one time I rented a car in Europe, I had to drive with my family in the car. As in, got off the plane wildly jet-lagged, got into a van, and drove away from Charles De Gaulle airport. Some number of hours later I side-swiped a parked car in Orleans…</p>
<p>Okay my 2 funny stories of driving in Italy…</p>
<p>1st: we arrive in Rome and have someone from the hotel pick us up. DS has his permit and is the middle row with me…he quietly whispers "Mom, do you think he knows he’s not driving in a lane? The driver decided to make a 3 lane highway into a 4 lane highway. He just rode up the middle of both lanes like you and I would put our shoes on. He was having a conversation with Bullet the whole time as we held on fore dear life!</p>
<p>2nd: We get to Milan and get a rental car to travel to Turino for the Olympics…Bullet and I fight for the first 2 days b/c we are so lost every morning and every night! On the 2nd night the kids ask us what this 2nd handle is for? I look down at my door and cannot view a 2nd handle…I look back to their seats and I realize what it is. The front seats had power windows the back seats had the old crank handles. Bullet and I bust out in laughter…first on thought they make a car with 1/2 pw and the other handles, and the second that our kids had no idea what it was! You know your old when you can remember manually rolling down the windows</p>