Friday, January 12, 2018

se kak in her han

This is how to say "She pooped in her hand" in Afrikaans. In Espanol: "se kaka in su mano". Swedish: "Huite hannen". I used to collect how many languages I could say that in. I was up to five at one point.

My most embarrassing story: Or, one of them. (I have learned to tell my own embarrassing stories, otherwise Kasey will tell them and not put the proper spin on it. As we know, she "likes to expose.") Anyway, one day, after getting home after having run a half marathon (brag), I took my shower and decided to air out and not get dressed immediately. So sue me. I wanted to check my online class or something and so I got in front of the computer. Now, and this is very important: I do not sit on chairs whilst naked. Especially on a fabric office chair EWWWWW. (FYI)

I was sitting on my foot.

Anyway again, I felt somebody knocking at my back door if you know what I mean and realized kind of urgently that I had to go number two. But, I knew that my computer takes a while to perform certain functions. And so, I decided to wait for the urgency to pass (like it allllllways does) and just click a few more times before running down to the bathroom. And then it hit me even more urgently. I had to go. Like right now. I started running. If you've been to my old house on Lake Nokomis, you know how long a distance it was for me to get from my room to the bathroom. It's like a mile. And --  so I ran and ran and ran and ran and squinched the entire way. I almost made it too, to the foot of the stairs. And then. All I could do was hold out my hand.

I mean I was trying to win and everything - who has time to "wait for the toilet"?
Getty images

Monday, December 25, 2017

Step Kid Pride

You know I'll be honest - when I married Zach and two teenage boys fell into my lap, I was terrified of the homework/attendance/schedule crap that comes along with kids. But through some stroke of luck Zach got them into a fabulous community school where there IS no homework, and the boys actually like going. I'm so thankful for PPL and LNAS.
Check out this video, in which Micah (misspelled in the video as "Micha") is interviewed at 3:01 and 4:27!
LNAS student film from Project for Pride in Living on Vimeo.

Saturday, December 23, 2017

Zach-isms, Vol. 5

Zach told me that I snore a lot. But only when I drink. (But I drink a lot. So anyway that was the conversation we were having and I was mortified.) And so he consoled me: "I don't mind your snores at all. They're like a bouquet of decibels."


Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Hal-isms, Vol. 72

"I don't shower at night. I wake up curly haired."
"I'm in a pissing match with a skunk."
"I ain't cookin' I'm just gonna eat hard tack and mushrooms."
"If you're in denial, it helps!"
"You tell them to get some Clamato juice or close their doors."

Sunday, December 17, 2017

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Occasionally, at my fancy lady business job, I am asked to speak to prospective recruits to convince them that our Company is the best, and the way we do things is the best, and they should really, really come and work here!
A few months ago, I had an appointment with one such man, and might I add he was very sharply dressed and even maybe a little bit on the handsome side. Of course I was embarrassed of my outfit, but that's not the point of my story. The point of my story is that during the appointment, he and I sat across from one another, with no desk in between us and we chatted and chatted and I crossed and uncrossed my legs eight hundred times and this went on for about 30 minutes. And then he left, and I considered the meeting a success.
Later, and I don't remember why (I probably dropped an M&M) I saw/felt in my crotchal area and was horrified to discover a two-inch GIANT hole at my upper upper thigh.
Later still, I was running late for softball, and so I quick quick quick changed from the above outfit into my softball outfit really fast, and that included an underwear change. I threw the above outfit plus underwear into my gym bag which is just an old tote bag and RAN into my boss' office for a quick commiseration about the hole in the crotch story and then off to softball.
While I was in there, the cleaning gal for our office approached me with her gloved hand outstretched. "I think these are yours", she said and instinctively I put out my hand, into which she dropped my DIRTY UNDERWEAR which must have fallen out of the tote in my haste. In the middle of the office hallway.
**What a nice human. I was glad for two things: 1) she was a woman and 2) she had gloves on.
And then at softball later my windshield got smashed by a softball. The End.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Sunday Favorites: A Cryptic Message

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 26, 2011:

Summer arrived in New Orleans just two days before me.  I got a text from her that said, "btw I have a piece of info about some of our neighbors.  I'm worried you might die."  I was like, "what?" and she said, "It's too good.  I wanna see your face."

When I arrived, Ashley and Summer took me into our bathroom and had me look out the window.  "Over there is the convent.  There are real nuns living there."  etc.  "And, see that pink house?  With the green shutters?  OK.  See that little grey one to the left of it?  With the black shutters?..."

She wasn't getting to the point fast enough and so I was like, "who lives there?"

Summer looked into my soul and asked, "who would make you die?"


I am living less than one block away from the Jolie-Pitts.

I don't even know what to do with this information.

I think Summer was pleased with my reaction, as I hyperventilated and collected myself and then hyperventilated some more.  Here is a photo out of our bathroom window.  Their house is the little gray one in the center.  With the two dormer windows.

I swear I saw Brad watching me go pee last night.  What a creep!  (Just kidding.  They're not home.)

Here's a picture of the front of their house, which I walk by every morning and every night when I go to and from my car.  I stole it from another website, since I will not be caught dead photographing their place (in the open).  I only keep my face straight ahead while my eyes stare the whole way by, looking for signs of life.

Photo stolen from

If you know me, you know that I think of Brad and Angelina as personal friends and frequently have daydreams of running into their family by Lake Nokomis in Minneapolis, asking them "what are you doing in town?" and then inviting them over for dinner.  Of course they come.  In my imagination, we laugh and talk.  The kids get a kick out of my made-up-on-the-spot poop songs, such as Fishing in the Toilet for Poop and Pee.

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