It’s been 2 years. It’s been 2 years since I posted on Mama Spaghetti. It’s been 2 years since I posted on Mama Spaghetti because…I forgot my password.
I mean let’s face it…everyone, including the ice cream man, tells you that passwords need to be different for each account. They also must contain an uppercase letter, special character, Morse code, and your 1st born child. I am just incapable of remembering such things.
Why not reset it you ask? Because apparently I also couldn’t remember which email address I used. Because we’re supposed to have 71 different email addresses too, right?!
Have no fear! I have figured it all out! (Obviously since I am ACTUALLY POSTING SOMETHING!) And…guess what??! I downloaded the glorious app! Which means that I can just spout off about whatever I want whenever I want.
This could be dangerous.
A picture of Little Miss Gigli’s spaghetti plate because…why not?!
On a daily basis I wonder what exactly is going through that brain of Ziti’s. There have been many moments in our 14 year (Yes, 14!!!) history where he does something and I think, “How in the hell did you come up with that?!” This is one of those moments.
Last night Ziti decided to make dinner. He made Fusilli pasta (yummy!) and salad. I walked into the kitchen and saw that absolutely none of the vegetables were chopped up properly. They were huge chunks that would be impossible to eat! I said, “What is this called!?? The Cut-your-own damn-vegetables-yourselves-you-assholes Salad??”
The angle I saw the salad from when I walked into the kitchen. Rather chunky.
My dear Ziti gently took my shoulders and positioned me to look at the salad from a different angle. This is what I saw instead.
The salad was grinning at me!
I figured there are one of two reasons why Ziti did this.
#1 – He thought it’d be cute and that Stelline and I would get a kick out of it … which we did!
Or #2 – He really didn’t feel like chopping up vegetables so if he placed them in a bowl and made it look cute then we wouldn’t care … which we didn’t!
Oh … that Ziti.
If you could be a “fly on the wall” anywhere and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?
Imagine me, as a fly, just buzzing around the living room of a 16-year-old Mama Spaghetti.
She strolls into the living room. She is a short, scrawny girl with pink/black hair, bracelets up to her elbows, and baggy pants that are falling off her behind because she thinks it looks awesome!!
She eyeballs the treadmill standing in the corner. What brings her to this treadmill? Is it to lose weight? Not so much. Is it to work up a gross sweat? Nah … she lived in Florida so just stepping outside would do the trick. Was she bored? Ah yes, she must have been bored.
So 16-year-old Mama Spaghetti decides to step her silly behind onto the treadmill. She then proceeds to hit the “on” button. Then she hits the SUPER FAST button and … WHAM !!!! That girl goes flying into the wall!
Yep … if I were to be a fly on the wall I would witness myself being dumb.