Shop It Up, Shoppy

I often wake up in the morning with a random earworm in my head. Does that happen to everyone? Mine are so strange- they are of songs I haven’t heard lately or barely know sometimes. One time last week I woke up with the theme song to Family Feud in my head. Makes me wonder what the hell I was dreaming about. Hopefully it wasn’t that I was making out with Richard Dawson. Now there was a dude who could not keep his lips to hisself.
This morning, I woke up with a mash-up of “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus and “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen. This is odd because if there is one thing I am not, it’s born to run, and also I don’t recall that I have ever really “moved my hips like yeah.” But there you go.

Anyhoo.

One time, Biogirl and I were walking down the street, and we saw this car that had a giant American flag painted all along the body. It also had a smaller flag flying off its radio antenna, and various flag stickers on its bumper. Biogirl said in an encouraging way: “Wow! Flag it up, Flaggy!” and I about died laughing. Just that she named the person Flaggy was funny enough, but it was also how she said it. You probably had to be there, but it was hilarious.

Ever since that time, we have re-used this awesome phrase. It can pertain to anything, not just flags. If I spend too much time reading, she might say “Read it up, Reedy!” or if her house looks particularly sparkly I’ll say “Cleaned it up, Cleany!” We enjoy ourselves. It’s good times.

I had a friend at work who always had at least three bags with her at all times. Her purse, her lunch bag, and a tote bag full of books (librarians are huge on the tote bag usage), plus maybe another bag for good measure. One day I said to her: “bag it up, Baggy!” She was good peoples so she laughed at my unfunny funny, and the next few times I saw her, she would try to recreate this moment, only she could never remember how to say it.

“Hey bagley! Have a bag!” she would say. Or “Baggo book me up!” Or “Baggy times, Baggola!”

Whenever I talk about bags, I think about her. Bagopolis, McBagger!

Remember when I said that I was in search of a new work bag? One that needed to have compartments, look stylish-yet-work-appropriate, and not be a pain in the ass to carry on the bus? Well I have looked high and low. I have looked at Etsy until my eyes wanted to pop out, and gone to every store I can think of. After all of this I am pained to say that my original statement still stands, and that statement was (allow me to paraphrase myself): CURRENT PURSES SUCK DONKEY DINGUS.

I did find one bag. Just the one. The price was more than I wanted to spend, so even though I yearned to take it and run (baby I was born to ruuuuuun), I held off and kept looking. How many hours is reasonable to look for a stinking bag? Why do I do this to myself? What is wrong with me? IT IS JUST A BAG.

Finally, I decided that time is also valuable and since I am a big old freak and won’t be able to deign to buy a less-than-perfect bag (go ahead and roll your eyes at me because I so deserve that) I should go ahead and buy the one I want. Which I did.

The bag that I bought is two things.

1. It is a diaper bag.

2. It is for dads.

I don’t have diapers (for myself or anyone else), and I am not a mom, let alone a dad, so this bag was double not-made-for-me. But I love it.

I ordered the thing on Friday. And since that time, whenever there is a silence in our household, I say the following:

“I wonder when my new bag will get here?”

The first 3 times I said this, Nordic Boy played along and made a guess. “Ima say Thursday. I bet it’s here by Thursday.” Then, he stopped answering. Smart man. He knows futility when he see it. This morning, I checked my email to find that the bag people have given me a tracking number so I can follow my bag’s progress toward my waiting bosom. “I HAVE A TRACKING NUMBER!” I said as we left the house this morning. “THANK GOD,” said my man.

Thank God, roughly translated, just might mean ok shut up now. If I spoke Sickobagese, which I don’t.

In case you are wondering, my bag is now in Bloomington, California. I know you were wondering.

Yay!  Bag it up, baggy!

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5 comments

  1. You really need a "Like" button on Blogger, because I would be honking that button for this post. When I got to "Sickobagese" I actually guffawed and laughed out all the air in my lungs, like Tom Hanks in the Money Pit. Perfect post to encounter at 4:46 p.m., thanks!!

  2. My favorite part was the numbered list. I totally did not see that coming. My husband had to pause Downton Abbey and give me a dirty look for laughing.

  3. Last Saturday at our library we had a Donuts with Dad storytime, two hipster dads walked by with the exact same diaper bag.If you post a picture and its that bag, the world is a strange strange place. It was a very cute bag.

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