Today (and sorry for mentioning this subject AGAIN) a woman I know announced she’s having a baby. Of course I was very happy for her, but at the same time I was like, “FINE. I’m not jealous that you have everything figured out or upset about the fact that my biggest concern today is how I’m going to get the Oregon Trail game and which of my friends I’m going to put in my Conestoga wagon. Whatever.”
It’s this constant back and forth in my head. I SHOULD be thinking about this, but I’m really freakin’ excited about getting home to order a 90s video game.
Before I go any further, let’s just say I did some research, randomly found this picture, and realized my giggling at this was rock bottom for the day as far as maturity goes.
Nope, not rock bottom. Turns out rock bottom was when I previewed this post seven separate times to edit it, and then laughed every single time I saw it.
So, I had a lot to think about today. Who the hell would I put in my wagon?
It’s such a tough choice!
I had two lists picked out. One for European friends, and another for American friends. When I realized I hadn’t put my mom on the US list, I typed out a whole apology/explanation:
Mom, I’m SO SORRY!!!!! But I can’t bring you in my wagon. I’M SORRY!!
The reason I can’t bring my mom is because it’s tough times on the wagon. We’re fording rivers, people are getting bitten by snakes, contracting cholera, having to scavenge for food, etc. I need every member of the party to be in their prime. I’ll accept men who are slightly older, but I can’t accept any women much older than 30 unless they are a doctor or something. So, it’s absolutely nothing against my mom in particular, it’s that I have an age limit.
Also, sorry dad, but you can’t come either. I can’t leave mom on her own.
I feel slightly more guilty ditching mom than dad because dad was a weapons specialist in the military so he could probably build a canon to ride around on or something. He’d be fine. I don’t know that my mom could build a canon.
I took her to Italy, twice. She’d expect to be allowed to go on the trail with me.
Omg. Mom is going to be so offended that she’s not in my wagon. Seriously. My mom is funny. She’s the kind of person who would pop in the Oregon Trail game (which she has at home), make a wagon, put me in it, and when I die of dysentery send me a screenshot showing “Sara has died of dysentery.”
One time my mom got mad at me because when we talked on the phone I kept saying, “OK bye,” and hang up really quickly. I thought the conversations were over (I didn’t have a good telephone manner), but she didn’t think they were over so she got really mad. Then when I’d call her I’d be in the middle of a sentence and she’d say, “OKBYE” and hang up while I was still talking.
This has absolutely nothing to do with the Oregon Trail, but I’m so obsessed with this B52s song. I beg you to listen to it.
Also, look at this burger my friend ordered today. Burger, cheese, mushrooms, bacon, more bacon, EGG. What?!
I have to admit, it looks spectacular.
That’s my wine.
Please tell me:
a) you laughed at “PENIS has died”
b) you loved the song I posted
c) you also would not include your mother in your wagon
d) you don’t think I’m a horrible person for not letting my mom join my wagon