Visser, Je Mange Tater Tots- Partie Six (Screw It, I’m Eating Tater Tots- Part Six)

This month’s Tater Tot post is in French to commemorate the 35th anniversary of the first time I took French.

I still do not know how in the hell I got through three years of a foreign language and can only say “hello” and “pencil.”

*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 throw 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 Reddit thread.

Like, ever.

If you ever need to replace a curse word, that thread 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.

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.

For example, 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? Rebecca and I were both reading the Signs book at the same time and did not know 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. Like, don’t ask for just a bumblebee or a butterfly or car, but ask for a specific 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?

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, “um, 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 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 we need to get out, but don’t want the entire world to see?

Well, I did it 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 me and the community we are building.

You don’t have to be a writer to submit, and there is no word count requirement.

Keep sending submissions via email, 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 really do.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have like, twenty HGTV shows on my DVR as I write this, but I may hate them and watch them when I am bored and feel horrible about myself afterwards.

I don’t know why I keep torturing myself. I mean, I just want to watch a simple House Hunters show and not face 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 EVER 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 eating 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 arguments aren’t even real. 

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 men is an even greater female cheering them on, making their success a possibility, sacrificing their dreams for their partner.

It was after reading Mrs. Hughes’ obituary and the 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. The family is 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.

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 re-watched the semi-autobiographical movie the week she died with completely fresh eyes.

If you were ever wondering what John Hughes and his wife were really like, this is good film to watch.

Rest well, Mrs. Hughes.

---

Edited to add….. 

After finding out about the death of Nancy Hughes, I returned 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:

Au Revoir…