TMM and RFD are BFF's Forever or Something Like That
(I don't know why, but I start a lot of my emails and stuff with that phrase. It's casual and fun yet not too cozy. Ya know?)
I'm Tiffany's friend C.
(Right Tiff? You'd say we're friends, right? Can I call you Tiff? I've been meaning to ask you that. Or does that nickname bug the heck out of you? I'll let you call me a nickname. But you have to be nice about it. I'll even tell you what my family calls me. And no one else in bloggyland knows. Of course, you know a lot of things no one else in bloggyland knows. And you better keep your mouth shut cause I've paid you quite the pretty penny in bribe money and...I guess I better not piss (can I say piss?) you off huh?)
Some of you may know me as Tattooed Minivan Mom. Yep. That's me. Don't worry. This is a strictly G rated post (minus the piss). You can keep your eyes open.
(And before I forget, if you have a chance today, stop by my blog. My very next post will be my 100th and I'm giving anyone who wants to, a chance to ask me a question that I shall answer. It may be the truth, it may be a lie. I don't know. We shall see.)
I realize Tiffany usually keeps her posts short and sweet. And while I usually start off WANTING to keep it short and sweet, I can kind of be long winded sometimes. (A lot of the time.) The good intentions are there. Really. They are. Maybe it's cause I'm always having conversations with myself on the side?
I thought I'd tell you a little bit about how I got to know Tiffany since a lot of you don't know that we know each other "in real life". We live in the same city. The same part of the city too. So our kids go to school together.
She moved here last year I think?
We both volunteered for our kids' first grade classes. At our school we have hallways in between classrooms where us minions, I mean moms, do our slave work, I mean volunteer work. They call the hallways "work rooms".
Which technically they are, but I think they should actually be called, "The super secret tile gauntlet" where if you step on the white ones instead of the brown ones you'll fall to a firey hell. At least that's what the kids who walk up and down the hall to go to the bathroom must think cause they jump from brown tile to brown tile on their way there refusing to step on the white ones.
they could call it 'The peeping hallway". Cause the kids seem to jump up and down at each classrooms' windows so they can get a peek inside on their way to the bathroom.
they could call it "The 40 yard dash hallway" cause when the kids go two at a time to turn in the attendance folders to the office they are forever doing that "I'm not running, I'm walking, but really I am running/walking so I don't get in trouble when a teacher pokes their head in the hallway to see why there's so much noise"race to the office and back.
See, Tiffany, "a.k.a." Tiff, would've been done with her post by now. I still haven't even told you how we met yet.
Ok, short story long, we volunteered in the "work room" hallway in classrooms right next door to each other on the same days sometimes. And we were both chosen, clearly for our stellar volunteery skiz-illz, to create the new first grade stations for Rocket Language (The Tiff-ster got that one) and Rocket Math (me-sters.)
We had to go on a little field trip to the scary second grade hallway to see how their's was done so that we wouldn't screw up ours. So in a way we were kind of setup on a school volunteer playdate. We got to talking and the rest was history.
She told me about her blog, I read it, we drifted apart over the summer, then when second grade started I sent her a pathetic email that was like "Hey, remember me? Wanna be friends again?" and she was all "NO! Go away!"...ok, not really...she was all "YES! I remember you! I've missed you! I'm going through withdrawals from you, I need you in my life again!"....ok, not really...she just said she did remember me and we started talking blogs again, and I told her I wanted to start my own but I was a fraidy cat, and she said I should, and I cave to peer pressure easily, so I did.
Yes. That's right. You have Tiffany to blame for my existence in blog world. All complaints and/or restraining orders can and should be sent to her.
So Tiffany, Tiff, Tiff-ster, The Tiff-meister, I'm so glad we met and became friends, blog buddies, Bunco mates, my linky pimp and email sisters.
"Did you ever knooooooooow that your my heeeeeeerrrrrrooooo...."
*tears of joy*
*picks keyboard back up because she forgot something*
Because I have an extremely juvenile sense of humor, I'm recommending you go read one of my favorite posts of Tiffany's here.