Don’t Hate Me: Baby, I was Born this Way.

The 80’s: An era rich in the history of great hairstyles.

Note: But seriously. I was a somewhat modern 80’s woman and had to endure this actual commercial. For reals. On television before Fast Forward. An atrocity.

However, during this time I had hair and plenty of it. One might even say my hair was, like, totally righteous. Dude.

Photographic Evidence From 1987, Probably Procured from the X-Files or Something:


Don’t Hate Me Because …

Now, back to my thoughts, which are fleeting, to say the least.

The concept of “Don’t hate me because…” has been bouncing around in my fleeting thoughts because, well, frankly I’m feeling hated. And it’s not my fault, I swear. Plus, the haters are totally the ones in control of their own spitefulness and could stem the tide of hatefulness. If they chose to do so.

Note: This is not a hair post

No, this post runs far deeper than hair, if that is possible.

Okay, then. Here it goes:

I am a Golden State Warriors fan.


Don’t hate me because my team is better than yours.

There, I said it.

images-16I feel better already. Frankly, I’m tired of taking the high road with Portland Trailblazer fans (No, really. Purple is a great color for a uniform!) or with Utah Jazz fans (TakeNote! Your guys are going to be good …. someday) or with San Antonio Spurs fans (Wait, no one likes the Spurs) or the …. well, you get it.

And I don’t want to hear about the Bandwagon thing either. I’ve had my eyes on the Warriors since Latrell Sprewell choked the head coach in the locker room. And don’t tell me that I don’t know anything about basketball or I might have to cross-you-over and dunk on you.

Further evidence: I own an actual Strength in Numbers shirt (size XL) that I got at a play-off game.

Photographic evidence: Some random guy in Costco today touched me, almost awkwardly, in his attempt to make contact when he saw me in my Warriors sweatshirt, possibly the only clothing I wear.



Note: I need to go sweatshirt shopping. I admit that. But it’s so comfy.

Further evidence: Steph Curry lives just minutes away and I drive by his house anytime I want, except for the restraining order. And it wasn’t my fault that we were both at Chik-fil-A at the same time. Total coincidence. We both like chicken.

Here’s my point:

I like my team. Steph Curry is a great example of a moral, family man. Draymond Green is a hothead with a big heart. KD is kinda sexy. And Klay Thompson is … Okay, Klay is boring but he can really light it up.

So, let’s all just get along. I’ll like my team. You like yours.

But let’s keep one thing straight:  Don’t hate me because my team is better than yours.

Heck, yes!



Yo: Wake Up You Need to Make Money!

Ah, Memories.


Memory Foam. In Action. Because it really doesn’t forget, apparently. And it’s funny.

Fellow blogger Quirky Girl nominated BaconandOleander for the 3 Days Quote Challenge, with the topic of Memories of Yesterday. (Check her out–she’s pretty hilarious!) Being the more nostalgic of the two of us (read: older), Oleander threw the ball into my court, which I will consolidate into one, glorious day of remembering. Stuff.

Note: Speaking of balls thrown into courts, I will be attending the GOLDEN STATE WARRIORS play-off game tonight to cheer on my neighbor, who will not be playing due to injury.

Additional Note: Okay, fine. He’s not my real neighbor, but he lives in my neighborhood.

Additional Note to the Note: Technically, neighborhoods encompass a fair amount of area.

Anyway, Memories of Yesterday. 

Twenty-One Pilots. Their take on Memories:

P.S. They might be geniuses.

Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days,
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out.

We’re stressed out.

We used to play pretend, give each other different names,
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away,
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face,
Saying, “Wake up, you need to make money.”


There’s magic in being a kid. You get to be the center of the universe. And you had proof, too. If you needed tucking in, there was Mama. If you needed a boo-boo kissed, there was Gramma. If you needed a good game of horse on the backyard hoop, there was Pops. Or whoever. But there was somebody. You didn’t work. You played. Playing was your job. Even the moon orbited around you.

IMG_3842I miss being a kid.

Note: Are your memories in black and white? I kind of think mine might be. And a little fuzzy, too. Like an old movie camera. Which also means everything is going really fast so the movie-taker can get in as much action as possible in two minutes, thirty seconds.

And then you have kids. And you realize that the world is a dangerous place for your sweet cherubs.


And then something magical happens.  The imperfection of life kinda fades and memories become your best friend. The grass was greener, the sky bluer, the possibilities in a day were endless. Your parents never argued. Christmases were perfect. Your own kids weren’t so hard to potty train. Your crappy job wasn’t that crappy.

It’s as if the Men in Black arrived at your doorstep and just sort of flashed away the hard times, leaving you basking in the beauty that is life.

Note: And it is MY DREAM to have Will Smith at my doorstep for any reason whatsoever!

Heck, yes!


The rules for this challenge are simple. For the three days you just need to post a quote or if you wish you can post all three quotes on the same day.

You then nominate three other bloggers each day to participate in this challenge and inform them about it.

Don’t forget to thank the blogger who nominated you!

Our three nominees:




Nominees, you are under no obligation to accept this challenge…but Quirky Girl has offered up cake!

And Oleander: So, Hypochondria?