Every Single Time


A couple things have a way of reoccurring in my life, some good and others not, some out and some 100% in my control.

Maybe to you, this might seem small, but every single time I tweet about or to Dateline [don’t judge me] they tweet me back. This was the first time…

Then, a few months later:

A month later:

And for the win…

Perhaps this is not as exciting for you, as it is for me…

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I’ll move on…

Public bathrooms are scary places, yeah? Every single time I use one, regardless if there are three stalls or 32 stalls, I always seem to choose the one, then two, sometimes even three that have something wrong with them. Usually I’ll have to dip out real quick after a lack of flushing going on, or worse there is piss sprayed all over the seat.

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When every single stall in the public bathroom is disgusting…

We are ladies, right? Can we fucking act like it? I have to enter and immediately exit several times before finding one I find acceptable and that’s a problem. If you’re going to hover, clean up after your, omg-I-can’t-sit-down, prissy ass.

It drives my husband crazy, but every single time we get something new I have to open it. I don’t know if it’s an OCD thing, I’m sure it’s not medically related at all, purely selfish actually. Bags of chips, cereal, ice cream, toothpaste, dryer sheets. I do not care, at all, if the previous one is not gone. I want to use, more specifically, open the new one… it’s fresh.

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Every single time I drink vodka I make terrible decisions. Every single time Hanson gets played, especially without my own doing, I jump around and make sure every knows how great they are – if you didn’t know, they have the best Christmas album.  Every single time it’s pointed out that I am left handed or someone has a relative also named, Jenni, I respond with the same answer: We’re everywhere. Every single time I’m around a baby I want one, until I get home and remember how easy my life currently is with one ten-year-old… and I’m late, every single time.

E is for Every Single Time.


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