This month’s Tater Tot post is in French in honor of the 35th anniversary of the first Fall I took French in high school.
I still have no idea how in the hell I got through three years of a foreign language and can only say “hello” and “pencil” in French.
*edited to add- thanks to the comment by Suz, I remembered that I also know how to say “eat shit and die” in French as well!
Pourquoi sommes-nous si stupides?
(Why are we so stupid?)
Bored driving? What the fark* has happened to us?
The above is an actual app that you can download to play when you’re bored.
While driving your car.
*Side note-while researching this post (YES, IT’S RESEARCH), I was looking for this exact Google search:
G-rated word replacement word for fuck...
Shield your eyes if you don’t like the word fuck.
Or the excessive use of the word word.
Honestly, it’s a good word but just because I like it and it’s my blog doesn’t mean I should be throwing it around like pizza dough.
Contrary to popular belief, I really don’t want to purposely offend people, hence the above Google search.
That search led me to the best ever Reddit thread.
If you need to replace a curse word, this is the place to go.
Aww, tartar sauce! Mother of fishpaste! HOLY DOLPHIN NOISES! Son of a Danny Tanner!
I’m adding it to my favorites tab so I can use it for reference.
Great Men’s Asses, it’s a wonderful time to be alive!
Signe signe partout un signe
(Sign sign everywhere a sign)
I also mentioned the Signs book last month and since then I have been seeing signs everywhere. Like, EVERYWHERE.
The 1:11 thing is still going on continuously, almost disturbingly but I am more in touch with my spirit guides now, so I don’t feel as creeped out by it anymore.
Little things here and there.
Like only one lantern lighting while we were sitting in the family room and no one had touched the remote to turn it on.
Or sending myself a text link for a fun article I found in the middle of the night so I could share it with my mom the following day at a reasonable hour.
Look at the time stamp.
And look at the content.
Want to hear something kind of eerie and cool? Rebecca and I were both reading the Signs book at the exact same time and had no idea that either of us was reading it.
So Rebecca had asked the Universe to send her blue butterflies as a sign that her request was received. The author says you need to ask for specific signs, not at all vague. Like, don’t ask for just a bumblebee or a butterfly or car but ask for a rare color.
Like a purple VW bug.
Rebecca asked the Universe for a blue butterfly. Blue butterflies are kind of rare in these parts; we are always seeing butterflies but the butterflies we usually see are white or monarch.
Can we take a moment to just enjoy that picture? What a creation.
But I rarely if ever see blue butterflies in the wild.
So while Rebecca and I were sitting at my kitchen table talking about the blue butterfly, something attached itself to my sliding glass door directly in front of where we were sitting.
I walked over to the window and took this picture with my phone. At first, we thought he was a moth, not a butterfly but then I looked closer and said to Rebecca, “umm, I think this is a butterfly”.
To which she said, “yeah but it isn’t blue”.
I looked closely at it and noticed something on its wing…..
A spot of blue.
Rebecca said something about her changing her mind when making the request to the Universe and maybe that is why it sent a butterfly with only a touch of blue.
This little fella sat here for a solid 2-4 minutes and didn’t flinch while I was inches in front of its little face.
This butterfly was meant for Rebecca, I believe it with all of my heart.
Then a few days later, I was at a gift shop in Door County and spotted this in a toy store:
Someone wants her tribe to know they got her message.
I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.
*Don’t crush our dreams by saying “it’s a moth” in the comments.
Tout laisser sortir
(Letting it all out)
Last month I mentioned I wanted to start a secret blog where people can anonymously let it all out. All the crap inside of us that we need to get out but don’t want the entire world (or our friends and families) to see.
Well, I did just that and I already have six published posts from some brave souls who trusted me with their secrets.
Let me tell you, I am in love with all of this so thank you to those who’ve already submitted and know that your secrets are completely safe with myself and the community we are building.
You don’t have to be a writer to submit and there is no word requirement (there is one post being submitted that is only two or three sentences).
Keep sending submissions via email (email@example.com) and know that there is absolutely no limit to how many posts you can submit.
And remember, only those who submit will get access to the blog.
Je déteste vraiment HGTV
(I really hate HGTV)
I do. I really do.
That doesn’t mean I don’t have like, twenty HGTV shows on my DVR as I write this but I am allowed to hate them and watch them when I am bored and want to feel horrible about myself.
I don’t know why I keep torturing myself. I mean, I just want to watch a simple House Hunters show and not be faced with a couple of doctors who want to keep their budget small, so you know only like 1 million. Definitely nothing over 1.5 million.
Or the family with six kids, one job, and have a budget of $800,00.
Or the semi-retired couple who are keeping their $400,000 home in the suburbs and need to buy a million-dollar second home in the Caymans.
LISTEN! I KNOW PEOPLE HAVE MORE MONEY THAN I WILL EVER HOPE TO HAVE OR LIVE IN PLACES WHERE THEIR NIPPLES DON’T HAVE THE POSSIBILITY OF GETTING FROSTBITE!
I just don’t need to have it thrown in my face while I am eating Beefaroni out of the can while wearing my stretchy food eatin’ pants.
But I am learning that House Hunters (like every show on HGTV) is mostly fake.
In fact, if you Google House Hunters fake right now, at least 100 articles will come up about people’s experiences on the show and how none of it is real.
NONE. OF. IT.
In fact, the houses they are looking at probably aren’t even on the market.
In fact, they probably already bought the house before the show aired and had to move all of their shit out of the house they are filmed looking at.
Look, I wasn’t born yesterday and I know that television is mostly smoke and mirrors but if they are faking it all why can’t they throw in some WORST possible versions of themselves?
And apparently, it’s really hard to get on the show in the first place which after seeing the couples who have made the cut, makes me wonder who in the hell they are weeding out.
Adieu Mme Hughes
(Farewell, Mrs. Hughes)
A few weeks ago, my mom texted me that Nancy Hughes had died. If you weren’t aware, she was John Hughes’ widow and after reading the article, she was honestly the reason Mr. Hughes was so successful.
Which is interesting because I wrote this line in my screenplay about her:
Without really knowing this but let’s be honest, behind most great human beings is an even greater human being cheering them on, making their success a possibility, sacrificing their dreams for their partner.
When I was approached by the guy from L.A. who wanted to create the festival dedicated to Mr. Hughes a few years ago, he seemed like he was a huge fan but something always felt amiss. I am big into people’s energy and his energy just didn’t seem genuine.
His disregard toward the Hughes family privacy and his wanting to worm himself into that dynamic was the real reason the festival that I was to be a part of disbanded. He said it was the family attorney putting the kibosh on the whole thing and that the family was upset at him.
It was after reading Mrs. Hughes’ obituary and article in the Sun-Times, that I realized I don’t want the screenplay to become anything more than a lovely homage to Mr. Hughes and his movies. They were highly protective of Mr. Hughes’ work, their family name, and their privacy, as they should be.
I will continue to visit his gravesite (now hers as well) and write about things including but not limited to John Hughes.
Why? Maybe because doing so brings me peace. Probably because at this point, they feel like family.
The song I had associated in my screenplay with the scene in which Nancy Hughes’, who was the driving force for how the museum came to life, identity was “revealed” was “If You Were Here” by the Thompson Twins.
The song made sense to me because of the lyrics and how if Mr. Hughes were indeed there, he would get to see all that he had done in his movie career in museum form.
But he did a whole hell of a lot more than just writing and directing a couple of movies that helped transform a generation. He and his wife had a loving marriage that most Hollywood movies wish was their storyline; raised two thoughtful sons away from the spotlight and fame; created a loving community of friends and loved ones in the little town they called home; put family first and took care of their own.
That is what we should honor.
And that is how I want Mr. Hughes and his wife to be remembered.
A piece of trivia that I learned only after reading her obituary is that his movie She’s Having a Baby was written with Nancy as his inspiration.
I rewatched the semi-autobiographical movie the week she died with completely different eyes.
If you were ever wondering what John Hughes and his wife were really like, this is a good one to watch.
Rest well, Mrs. Hughes.
Edited to add…..
After finding out about the death of Nancy Hughes, I happened to return to the photo of the lantern that lit up without us touching anything.
The date stamp showed the exact day that Nancy Hughes passed away: