There go my brain cells….

I swear this pregnancy is making me stupider by the day. A running list of “Wow, am I really that dumb” moments from the past week and half alone:

 

  • On Tuesday, dinner was bubbling frantically away in the slowcooker for over an hour before I realized I forgot to put the cover on.
  • The next afternoon, while making this blood orange olive oil cake from Smitten Kitchen, I realized  nearly 20 minutes into the baking time that, hmm, 450 degrees seems mighty hot for baking…..oh my goodness, I was 100 degrees off. 
  • In the middle of proofreading a museum exhibit for work, I came across the word driest. This caught my attention, because, what a word! It must rhyme with priest! I mean, just flip that d upside down and there you have it; but what could it mean? Is it a painting term tossed around essays by artsy people? (The exhibit is on William Congdon). “His post-conversion style became markedly driest.” You see where I’m going with this. Maybe. I went so far as to Google the definition of this word, only to discover, to my horror….

driestsuperlative of dry (Adjective)

Adjective:
  1. Free from moisture or liquid; not wet or moist.
  2. Having lost all wetness or moisture over a period of time.

 

         At this point I felt compelled to send back my diploma, green and yellow magna-cum-laude-in-studies-in-British-and-American-literature tassels and all, to my alma mater.

  • Today while driving, the sign outside McDonalds caught my eye (see forthcoming post on Why This Pregnancy is Also Going to Make Me Fat). “TRY OUR NEW MC BITES!” Through the course of the red light, I pondered the nature of an “MC BITE.” Did the MC stand for something? Was it a decades-late allusion to this dude? (“Can’t touch my MC BITES!” Let’s be honest, it would be a McDonald’s ad campaign.) (For the record, I figured it out by the time the light turned green).
 
The evening is young. Dinner is not yet cooked. I’m sure more mortifying moments await.
.,.
 
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3 thoughts on “There go my brain cells….

  1. Pingback: What have I become. « Quick-eyed Love

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