Sunday, September 25, 2016

Sunday Favorites: Dad



New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on October 25, 2013:



Sometimes my dad calls me and counsels criticizes me, or whatever. It's not on purpose. Mostly he just disagrees with every decision I've ever made. (Can you blame him?) He just likes to continue to mold me, even now that I'm all growed up. I don't mind it at all, I tell you what, I'm just happy he calls. 

Anyway, the other day I told him, "It's OK dad. I already know you love me because you called. You don't have to say anything nice."

Oh how we laughed.

"You have to come now, or be one of them dummies. One of them city people. Look at your cement blocks. Look at your empty cans of beer. The money. And go clubbing. And don't worry about the Lady's Slippers. Why worry about it? Right?"

Friday, August 19, 2016

The Wooden Part

I had a friend who was begging her Little Turd of a daughter to rub her feet. And then the Little Turd said, "OK. But only the top part. Not the wooden part."



This led to a years-long joke about the wooden part of a person's feet - you know the calloused part that the lady at the pedicure place has to SCRAPE and SCRAPE and you get really embarrassed?

Fast forward to my new life of living in my one room home with my lovely husband his two teenage boys. It's not ideal. If anybody farts the whole house hears it. And smells it too. The place is an open floor plan loft-style home. See what I mean?

(I designed it while I was planning to die alone.)






ANYWAY, Zach has been growing quite a nasty wooden part of his own on his heel all summer from working. He's OBSESSED with it and makes me touch it all the time. 

Well: the other night at bedtime Zach and I were getting ready to fall asleep, whispering and snuggling and otherwise falling in love, the usual. He grabbed my hand and made me touch his nasty wooden heel. I laughed and said, too loud, (in baby talk I might add): 

"ARE YOU MAKING ME TOUCH THE WOODEN PART AGAIN?"


His face dropped.

I gasped.

We died, while hoping beyond hope the kids were already sleeping.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Sunday Favorites: Twitter Fail

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on March 26, 2014:



Here's another in a new series I like to call "Tweets I wrote that should have been retweeted a million times but weren't because I don't think I'm doing Twitter right and not because they weren't wildly hilarious".







Follow my tweets here. 

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Bathroom Break


My entire career I've been known as the girl who says "I have to go pee", while doing the peepee dance and never going pee. I wait for hours and hours and hours because my office is SO far away from the bathroom and I'm very busy and important. 

I'm kind of afraid that something bad is going to happen to my bladder when I'm older from all that holding it. 

So can somebody tell me then, why: when my home office is literally IN MY BATHROOM (thanks to this 900 square foot 1-person loft I built for myself and not a husband and two teenage stepsons because remember I was going to die alone), I say "I have to go pee", while doing the peepee dance and never go pee. I wait for hours and hours and hours.

WHY??????? 







Wednesday, July 20, 2016

New Orleans

Summer made a video of a trip that we took with Beata to New Orleans a few years back -- twerking was all the rage at the time. It'll make sense in a minute...

guh i love that city........



What Makes Us Girls from Summer Grimes on Vimeo.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

My Coat

We had been having some yo-yo weather in Minnesota and one day I grabbed a wool jacket to wear to work. Of course it warmed up mid-afternoon and so I forgot the jacket in the conference room (I had a very important business lady meeting there and I was running fashionably late so I didn't stop by my office prior to). 

The next day I asked the receptionist if anybody saw my jacket. Nope.

"Oh well, it will turn up."

Several days and maybe even a couple weeks went by. My friend Tara came into my office to tell me the story of how "somebody" had dropped a coat off in my other friend Alayet's cube. She was excited that somebody was giving her an article of clothing. She went on to tell Tara, though, that the coat had hairs on it and therefore was "dirty and disgusting" and "why would somebody give me this filthy coat?" Turns out somebody assumed since it was an XS that it was Alayet's (which is a compliment to me since she weighs about 87 pounds).

I told Tara that I forgot the jacket in the conference room and we laughed for 27 minutes.

I mean, "filthy"?

"Dirty"?

"Disgusting"?




Look how she drowns in it.

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