This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!
I just had a conversation with Keely that I asked her to type up!
Hello to all readers of All Fooked Up. It is I, the eldest and most fantastic daughter of Lynn MacDonald, Keely (also known as “the Gift”). My mother has bullied me and forced me into writing a guest post for this thing (guess that’s what I get for coming home for spring break – definitely going on a cruise next year!), and so here I am. Not only has she abducted me and sat me on the couch to write this thing, she has even specified precisely what she wants to write about. And so we come to the main point of this whole charade: she has decided we are going to write about my (adorably) super-small hands.
Yes, they are small. I don’t know why, but they are probably the smallest hands you’ll find on a 21-year-old ever. But they are awesome and type super fast, so not many complaints here. So here we go – she wants to butcher yet another conversation we’ve had by putting it on this site, skewed words and all. You guys psyched? I’m sure you’re all just brimming with enthusiasm right now…
Oh, my mom has just interjected. She’s all like, “You’re a jerk, Keely. That’s not what I wanted you to type!” and I’m all like, “LET ME OFF THIS COUCH NOW YOU KNAVE!” … Except not quite like that. But just imagine. She wants to relate this story to you. I’ll mimic her blogging here (though with immeasurably better syntax, of course). We are coming back from running errands (against my will), and since it is Monday, the garbage and recycling cans are out on the street, just chilling as garbage cans are prone to do. So Mother Dearest stops the car and says to me,
Mom: “Can you bring the garbage cans down from the street?”
As much as I’d just loooove to help out here, this really exceeds my physical exertion level. But I mean, as the golden child that I am, I will give it a try.
Keely: “YES MOTHER, I WOULD LOVE TO DO MOST ANYTHING TO HELP YOU OUT!!”
And I hop out of the car. Okay, she is protesting right now. She says that apparently I told her,
Keely: “I’ll bring one down. Which one do you want me to bring?”
Mom: “No, Daniel always brings them both down. Use one for each hand.”
Has she seen my hands? My two hands make up approximately the size of a normal person’s hand. And therefore how can I possibly bring down two garbage cans when I don’t have four Keely-sized hands? That’d be like holding on to each garbage can with half a hand, which I have never heard of and I feel confident you haven’t either.
So Mother Dearest is pulling the car into the garage and shouting at me to miraculously grow two more hands (or bring down both cans, it could have been either since they’re pretty much the same thing), and I’m all like, “That’s impossible, I go to college and know these things.” Then I brought down the one can, and made my mom get the other one… But I offered to walk with her, so that makes up for it. We’ve also made a brilliant discovery: Daniel is much better at doing chores than I am, and therefore we should stick with him when it comes to bringing down the garbage cans!
I just read this out loud to Mother Dearest and she says that’s not what happened at all. Her memory is bad, though, so I can refute this fact by saying that she probably doesn’t remember. To appease her, however, I will tell you what she is now repeating over and over on the couch next to me. She is saying, “I give up. Keely, you are truly a gift.”
And so ends my guest posting, and hopefully my career as a garbage-can-bringer-downer. Unless I somehow manage to sprout new hands, guess we’ll see. STAY POSTED!
Ok, Lynn Here. I’m not sure that this is a completely accurate depiction of the incident except for the fact that Keely does have baby-doll hands. And she is lazy as shit!