You keep using that word….

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Today I had to explain “Santorum” to my husband, following some crude joke I made about anal froth (as expected). Frankly, given his intense need to follow every debate, I was surprised I knew something about a candidate that he didn’t. The conversation went something like this:

Me:  Santorum. Get it? ….Because Santorum.

Nick: [shrugs]

Me: You know the juices that mingle with– please, tell me you know what I’m talking about…

Nick: Um, no. Sorry.

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That's not coffee...

Me: Jelly Babies!!!!

Nick: Oooh! – So what does that have to do with him?

As googling ensued, I couldn’t help but think how odd it was that we both have “Jelly Babies” in our extended vocabulary. Things like this just happen when your dad is gay. Not that I learned that terminology directly from my father—  I guess we can just chalk it up to acquired knowledge. Poop knowledge.

——–

In other news, I made it through Aldi yesterday without having a panic attack. Hooray!

On that note, I am getting help for my anxiety issues.  Maybe now I won’t be afraid of deer or lasers (or large crowds, narrow spaces, or my teeth) and maybe someday I’ll stop worrying about whether or not other people understand commercials.

I realize this post has no coherence; I’ve made peace with that issue.

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