Post 60 - The Little Hipster's Nickname

I watch this ultra-cool little girl, Little Hipster, and her tiny brother, Baby Preppy, every day.  They both crack me up but Little Hipster is hysterical.  We chat.  Often.  Like, all day.  A while back, she gave herself the nickname, "Honey."  Her parents and I were all confused about this for a few days until it suddenly dawned on us:  I call her, "Honey," all the time.  So there you go.

Anyways!  A few weeks ago, she gave me a nickname.  We didn't know she was actually referring to me because the name she gave me was, "Me."  So she would say things like, "Let Me do it," and we would wait for her to do whatever it was that needed to be done.  We'd look at her.  She'd look at us (especially me) utterly annoyed.  And she would say, "ME do it!!" And we'd all wait.  Eventually, she would cry in frustration and we would all rush to help her do whatever it was that needed doing.  Which, I suppose, in her two year old mind, translated to "Mission Accomplished."  Finally, one day, she asked each adult in the room to make an elephant noise (if you look back to old posts of mine, this involves putting your arm in front of your nose, simulating an elephant's trunk and saying "toodle-oo!").  So.  "Daddy do it!" and her father complied enthusiastically.  "Mommy do it!" and off Mommy went, toodle-oo-ing.  Next, she pointed at me and said, "Me, you do it now!" and a collective light bulb went off in the heads of each adult.  Ahhhhh.  Kelley is "Me."  Not one to disappoint, I toodle-ooed like a pro.

I thought about this nickname and, really, it makes sense!  I'm constantly telling her, "Come give me a hug," or "Come with me," and so on... what a cool, clever little kid.  And let's face it.  You only have to read Post 59 to see that I've certainly been called much worse than "Me," in my life.  If she ever starts calling me "fat ass," though, we could have a problem...

Post 59 - I'm BACK!

Right.  So, first things first:  obviously, I've been gone a while.  Ugh, yes it was end-of-engagement related.  Oh.  Also, I locked myself out of my own blog.  I didn't even know that was possible!  Well, now I know.  Yes, it's possible to set your privacy settings so that you can't read your own blog.  Whoops.  But I digress.  Mostly I've been gone due to the demise of my relationship.  If you've been reading this blog/been a facebook friend/known me at all, then you know I needed to just curl up and die for a few months when my (now ex) fiance dumped me just weeks before we were to be married.  The breakup itself was bad.  But, for reasons I cannot fathom, my ex thought we could continue being best friends after he (as he often called it) "dropped an anvil" on my head.  Let me be clear about something:  dropping an anvil on my head would have been more humane.  Instead, he would do this "but we're best friends!" thing... and then get mad at me for something, call me names, and delete me from his contact lists.  Then a month later, "I miss my best friend!" and I'd be re-added to everything, blah blah blah.  WHY I let him do this I will never fully understand - I swear I'm not a masochist!  Anyway, whenever it happened, an old saying my dad often said would ring in my head, "with friends like you, who needs enemies?"

Finally, two months ago, after another one of his silly hissy fits (I'd had the audacity to say, "I see," instead of "Congratulations!" when he told me about his new girlfriend), I reached my limit and struck back.  Suffice it to say that the pen IS mightier than the sword and it's really not a good idea to piss off your extremely tolerant ex-fiance who happens to be a writer too many times because, if you verbally hit her below the belt enough times, eventually, she's gonna slap you back.  Which I did.  And now he thinks I'm evil incarnate.  With a fat ass.  (Really?  "Fat Ass" is the best he could come up with? Pfff!)

Good.  Finally, I've been able to move on!  And no, mother fucker, I do NOT want to be friends.