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And isn't it ironic...don'tcha think?

Do you lie in your text messages?  I think you do.  You know how I know?  Because I lie.  I, Antoinette Tiny Gomez Quintana Garcia, am a liar.  I am a fake.  I am a fraud.  And placing the blame lies easily with one thing:  The A.C.R.O.N.Y.M.

The idea of acronyms positively fascinates me.  The invention of texting has allowed for an evolution, if you will, of what we used to know as normal conversations.  While I still think that conversing face-to-face is better than any other form of communication, the invention of texting, and the subsequent acronyms that became part of day-to-day lives, have made our lives so much easier it seems.  Don’t have time to spell something out to someone?  Acronymitize it.  (Shut up, that’s a word.)

My friend Ryan and I have created a virtually non-existent, unintelligible language from our own homemade acronyms mixed in with some oldies but goodies.  On any given day, so-called words like P&L, DDs, HD, LAHS, SYS can be seen written in emails flying between each of us.  (Translations: Potty & Lobby, Dunkin Donuts, Heading Down, Leaving After I Hit Send, See Ya Soon!)  Ridonkulous.  I know.

We’re all a little OOC.                                

I think that in recent years, though, acronyms have gotten a little out of control.  I mean, when an AT&T commercial goes as far as having Granny texting on her Blackberry talkin’ about, “IDK, my BFF Rose.” I’m thinking that the whole acronym thing may have gotten slightly out of hand.  Now, I should state for the record that by no means am I against acronyms whatsoever; trust me.  And if my example of a daily conversation with Ryan wasn’t enough to convince you, then maybe it would help to know that I actually prefer to say the actual initials themselves (i.e. OH EM GEE, EL OH EL, and EL EM EFF AY OH) rather than actually doing what the acronym dictates I should be doing.  See?  I’m OOC.  (Out of Control if you couldn’t figure that one out.)

Even Granny is down with the lingo.

When I text someone and they say something funny, I typically reply with an “LOL!”  Or if it’s slightly funnier than a normal joke, I’ll respond with an “LMAO!”  But in all reality, you know what I’m doing?  Do you want to know what I’m really doing?  I’m smiling.  Yup.  Just…smiling.  And, hell, I may not even be doing that; I may have just turned the corners of my mouth up slightly in an effort to grin but didn’t quite make it all the way.  I’m a frickin’ fraud, dudes.

Did seeing Texting Granny again make you LOL?  No, it didn’t.  Liar.                         

So, herein lies my issue with acronyms: Why can’t our acronyms accurately reflect what we’re actually doing?  Do you like being lied to?  I don’t.  As such, I would like to propose some new acronyms that I think should make it into our daily acronym vocabulary.  They are as follows:

IS………………………………………I Smiled.

ISRB………………………………….I Smiled Really Big.

TWFBINAL………………………..That Was Funny But I’m Not Actually Laughing.

IEFFMNAKS……………………..I Exhaled Forcefully From My Nose and Kinda Snorted.

IKC……………………………………I Kinda Chuckled.

IJC…………………………………….I Just Chuckled.

IWTLBIIP………………………….I Want to Laugh But I’m in Public.

DYATTWFDFIYPYSB……….Did You Actually Think That Was Funny, Dude?  F*ck is Your Problem?  Ya Sick Bastard.

OGOIALOL……………………..Okay, Good One.  I Actually Laughed Out Loud.

So if you’re one of the few lucky people who actually has my cell phone number and you get a text message from me that says, OGOIALOL…kudos.  You literally made me Laugh Out Loud and you should be commended.  Your Pink Sugar Styleified certificate will be in the mail.

So, UNT…S

(Until next time…Smooches.)

P.S. Have any good ones you’d add to the list?  Feel free to comment and let me know.  :0)

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Plaaaaaay ball.

After several unsuccessful attempts through Ferko Playground and Simpson House Playground (can you say ghe-tto?) I was able to successfully register Lito for Tee-Ball last week, which I’m very happy about.  Not happy about the future of my Saturday mornings, but…happy nonetheless.  Apparently, they’re starting off the season next Saturday with a parade.  Cool, right?  Yeah.  All players’ participation is mandatory and the parade starts at 7:45 AM…sharp.  And we have to be there at 7:30 AM. FML. I bid you adieu, o’ lovely Saturdays.  I hardly knew ye.

I think this qualifies me as a ghetto-ass ho.

Since I primarily use my phone for Facebook status updates and pretty much everything else internet-related, I haven’t necessarily missed my laptop very much.  That is until I got it back.  Now I don’t know what I ever did without it.  If you didn’t already know, my laptop had been out of commission for approximately 17.4 years, which is actually like 79.6 in laptop years.  After realizing my extended warranty expired in April, I went to Best Buy’s Geek Squad and had them fix it. And by “fix it” I guess they meant delete everything that has ever meant anything to me in the history of my entire cyber life.  Apparently the hard drive went bad (would have been really nice if they’d told me that before they replaced it, but whatthef*ckever).   After many trips back and forth and back and forth, I was finally notified that my laptop was ready for pickup.  Even though I waited in line behind literally 11 people for 37 minutes (and an average of 34 minutes the previous times), it is now working like a brand-spanking-new computer and I am happier than a pig in shit.

Many southern rappers have been known to ask their bitches and hoes to “back that ass up.”  If only they knew the world of good they would do simply by adding, “And back your pictures up, too…beotch.”  Fortunately, I’m a ghetto-ass ho and I did in fact back, both my ass, and my pictures up, so I guess that means it’s all good in the hood.

Wimps and Ledges and Remorse, oh my.

Last week, Lito wanted to take Kayla’s Diary of a Wimpy Kid book to school but, as she does with everything else, she continually refused to allow him, stating that he would quote: “Mess it up or lose it.”  After listening to her rants and his rebuttals for approximately 27 minutes before leaving the house and another 5.9 minutes for the entire ride to school, I made an executive decision and allowed im to take it with him to class.  He was happy and she was pissed.  Well, you wanna take a wild guess as to what happened to it?  Yup.  Lost.  Or stolen. We weren’t entirely sure which.  Either way…it was gone. I offered to buy Kay another one but she adamantly proclaimed, “But this one was SPECIAL!  Mom-Mom bought it for me for CHRISTMAAAAS!!”  After successfully talking Kayla down from the ledge of her bedroom window (Ah, which reminds me –  must purchase Windex), Lito agreed to talk to Mrs. Bell to try to find out what happened to her book. For the first day that proved futile, so I had to send in a note to try to get to the bottom of the mystery (generally Lito is not at all irresponsible with his belongings, so this one was a real head-scratcher).  In the meantime, she was still pissed, but Lito was very, very remorseful. As is evidenced below:

“Dear Momy I am sorry that I lawst Kayla’s book and I love you and DaDDy.”

Fortunately, I do have a rather happy update to provide.   The book has in fact been returned and is (even if it does have crayon marks all over the inside cover) intact.  We were all super happy to have it returned and we learned that it was Lito’s friend that took (and subsequently returned) the book.

Once again, we have a very remorseful first-grader on our hands:

“I am sorry I took your book, Carlos.  I will not do it again.  Ok.  Are we cool now?  I’m sorry for that big mess and that will not happen again.  Sorry.” *

*DISCLAIMER: Edits were made to include proper punctuation, even though I’m well aware that a first-grader shouldn’t be expected to use proper punctuation.  Yes, I know, it’s an illness.  Don’t judge me.  I’m seeking help.

Well, that is all for now, dear friends.  It’s well after midnight and Whose Line is it Anyway is on and I’m missing it.  And I have to finish up the laundry.  And pack the kids bags for school tomorrow.  And check off their calendars and homework.  And write a check for the library book Kayla lost.  And…crap, I’m forgetting something, I know it.  Oh, yeah, sleep.  Yeah, that’s it.  Sleep.

Smooches.

About Me

I’m awesome. 

So…What?  What will this blog be about?

Stuff I like.  Stuff I love.  My gorgeous and wonderful children.  My supremely amazing husband.  Me.  My infinitely wise and ever-supporting parents and brother.  Me.  My love for home decor.  Me.  Crafting.  Me.  My small business.  Me.  Home organization.  Me.  My fabulous cousins/BFFs.  Me.  My unnatural love for karaoke.  Me.  My obsession with fashion in every regard.  Me.  My unhealthy (and arguably annoying) need for the use of proper grammar and my lifelong goal to make everyone I know to speak properly no matter how much they hate me for it.  Me.  And other stuff, too.  

But…you know…mostly me.

So, why a blog, Antoinette Tiny Gomez Garcia Quintana? And why now?

I love talking.  I love writing.  (Have you gotten that impression yet?)

On a daily basis, I have approximately 17,483 thoughts that rattle around in my head, ranging in topic anywhere from how and why we wake up with songs in our head that we haven’t heard in years (today’s was Eminem’s Slim Shady. I mean, fa’ril?), to thinking of how motherflippin’ proud I am of my maximumly awesome kids (who despite constant threats of punishment, simply refuse to stop growing), to my ever-increasing morbid curiosity and clinically unhealthy fascination with my piles upon piles of laundry.

Unfortunately, I don’t have anyone that will listen to me for too long before they

A.)   Immediately bring the conversation back to themselves, or

B.)   Grow incredibly weary of listening to my rants and raves.  And frankly, I think subjecting them to my rants at length could be considered prisoner torture in some Middle Eastern countries.  In fact, maybe that’s what Obama should do. Yeah, he should totally ship ME overseas so I can, like, torture alleged spies trying to bring our government down.  Twenty minutes into listening to me talk about wanting to duplicate nineteen of Kim Kardashian’s outfits on a budget would definitely be enough to get those f*ckers to talk.

Oh, yeah.  That brings me to my next point.  Ummm, fair warning: I curse.  No, like, a LOT.  Like, I should probably be hauling cattle in an 18-wheeler because I cuss like a damn trucker. I would also probably qualify to sail the 7 seas since I cuss like a damn sailor too. So, I guess altogether that makes me a cattle-hauling, sail-wielding small-business-owner crafting mom and wife.  Dang.  That takes talent. I totally just impressed the crap out of myself.  Score one for the Tinester. 

So, if you’re easily offended by F-bombs (not to be confused with H-bombs. Don’t worry, I own no heavy artillery. I don’t care what Philly S.W.A.T. tells you), then this may not be the blog for you. Oh, and I’m really classy and refined and generally nice, but there is about 10% of me that’s seriously, certifiably ghetto. So, fair warning there, too.

So, okay, wrap this up now, please.

Anyhoo, it took thirty-two years of living on God’s green earth but I think I’ve finally found the avenue to properly facilitate my need to gab about everything and anything.  I loves me some Facebook, believe you me, but it just doesn’t cut it when you have 17,483 thoughts taking up precious real estate in your brain.  I mean, sum up everything in my head in like, 500 characters??  Pssshh.  Yeah.  Okay. 

But I do hope you enjoy my mindless and seemingly endless one-sided banter.  Some posts will be bad.  Some posts will be good.  And some will be maximumly awesome.  But no matter what, I’ll do my best to keep you entertained.  (And I promise, they won’t all be as ridiculously long as this one.)

Oh, and please feel totally free to leave a comment; I’d love to read anything anyone else has to say.  As long as the topic of conversation eventually comes back to me.

Smooches.