Please don't be offended just because I have weird dreams. Put your scoffing to good use and give me a reason!

I tossed and turned last night in bed, lost in one of those awful dreams where you can't accomplish your purpose. You know--like when you want to run away and you're stuck, or you need to dial 911 and you just can't seem to get the sequence right. Well last night my plight of pity was bra shopping and trying desperately to find the right size.

I remember pilfering feverishly through racks and racks of all different types of bras, finally narrowing them down to a nice white padded bra. But oh dear me I couldn't find my size! They had every size imaginable of this particular bra except for mine. I was throwing stuff off shelves when finally the sales lady came to give me a hand and asked if she could measure me. (I'm used to this sort of awesome treatment because, and here's a confession--I only bra shop at Victoria's Secret. Makes a girl feel nice, inside and out. Ah-hem. Moving on.) I lifted up my arms obediently and rolled my eyes like "Again! You'd think a girl would know her bra size." But then the most amazing thing happened. The sales clerk/brazier measurer expert royally dubbed me a 32 D.

So. Happy.

I had officially gone from average circumference and volume to trim and well-endowed! Needless to say there were plenty of bras in that size around the store, and many on clearance--because, let's face it, not very many people are blessed with my figure. (And after nursing two babies too!)

So what does all this mean? I vote for meaningless, but I bet you could come up with something much better than that, probably a horrific background story involving my adolescence and a date gone wrong. Let me know what you come up with.

On a related note, here's a big bra for you:


Also one more thing to destroy your day: Whenever you hear the beautiful classic song Edelweiss from The Sound of Music, think of your bra. It'll put a smile to your face and ruin that special song for you forever!

That is all.

Booby Dazzler Defined

I have been receiving feedback that the title of my last post was misleading to my readers (I say that like I am writing for the New York Times). Apparently the term "Booby-Dazzler" wet the appetites for a complete discussion on what booby-dazzlers are, the actuality of their existence, and why my husband only wants one of them. I apologize if I was inadvertently deceptive--I tend to title my posts after I have typed it all out, and often I do not go for the obvious. When my readers were hoping for a breakdown on this seemingly lively topic, instead you were blasted with my woes of sick children and laundry. Again, I apologize.

The term booby-dazzler is not one you will find in the dictionary, and I would highly advise against googling it--I don't want to be responsible for whatever happens there. The word has made its way into my vocabulary trickling down through the generations from my Grandmother, who to this day, frequently uses the word. Instead of defining it myself, I went straight to a more knowledgeable source: my mother. Here is her definition:

Booby-Dazzler: "So amazing, so extraordinarily conspicuous; the ultimate in whatever commodity. Usually a sandwich."

So, although the term begins as an adjective, it has become so descriptive that it can be used as a noun. So instead of saying "What a booby-dazzler sandwich!", you might instead reflect "This sandwich is a real booby-dazzler!"

I would like to take this opportunity to add that my Grandmother's homemade "Spudnuts" (aka. mouthwatering doughnuts), are also commonly referred to as booby-dazzlers. That is all.