Oh my gooshney

1 Aug

What a long day.  It was filled with goodness but, crap, I’m tired.  Before we discuss my day, though, let’s discuss the title of this blog, shall we?  Oh my gooshney.  This, friends, is the phrase that my good friend (initials B. R.) had to say growing up instead of “oh my gosh” because “gosh” was not a nice word to say.  Can you EVEN imagine?  Gooshney.  What even IS that?  Say it out loud one time.  Do it.  Gooshney.  LOL!  Some of you are thinking to yourselves, “Hmmmmm, I wonder if that was Brad Riggins?”  Yep.  You guessed it.  Brad Riggins and his sister, Karen, had to say “oh my gooshney” growing up.  God bless America.  I mean, my sister and I definitely couldn’t say “fart” but we got away with “gosh.”  Those dang Riggins’ were hard core.  So, seriously, if any of you have any words that you couldn’t say or phrases that your parents made you say instead PLEASE leave them in a comment.  These little pieces of hilarity make me happy.

Ok, so, back to my day.  I got up, got dressed and got myself to the dentist’s office by 7:30 am only to be told that “my” hygienist called in sick.  Um, ok?  And?  But I did not fuss or gripe because I HATE it when people gripe at me for things beyond my control SO I sweetly accepted another 7:30 am appointment for Wednesday morning.  Soooooo, yes, I will be setting my alarm again on Wednesday and getting up out of my comfy bed while the rest of my family is still sleeping, getting dressed and going to the dentist.  For a cleaning.  Whatever.

After the failed tooth cleaning attempt, I went to the bank to get some cash (where I accidentally ramped the curb in the drive-thru, for real) so that I could go downtown to the sheriff’s office to get finger printed for my concealed carry license.  I had some anxiety over this because a) I have no fingerprints, which I learned during the process of getting my Mississippi pharmacist license and b) because when I called to inquire about it, the guy that answered the phone sounded really male chauvinist-y.  Ugh.  Kinda like, “sure little momma come on up here with your pretty little self and let big daddy take your little finger prints so you can pretend to defend yourself against robbers.”  Ugh.  So annoying BUT this little momma was determined.

I got to the front doors and what do ya know – one of the chums from the sheriff’s department was working the security check metal detector machine thingy.  He said, “Hey there, lady, you here to get finger-printed?”  Why does he know this, I’m thinking.  Am I that obvious?  Do I look like “that” little momma that called on the phone inquiring about getting finger printed?  UGH!!!!!  No!  But then I realized I was carrying my NRA packet with my concealed carry stuff inside.  Whew.  But I bet I did look kinda out of place – like a determined little momma with a stiff upper lip going inside to show that sheriff finger printer guy how tough I was.  OR maybe they saw me taking a picture with my iphone of the front of the courthouse and thought “what a weird dorky woman – she must be trying to get her concealed carry license.”  Whatever.  It is what it is. 

Turns out, the male chavinist sheriff department phone answering guy was a super nice country-fied down home fellow with a gun-totin’ wife and two gun-totin’ daughters!  Not male chavinist-y at all.  We had such a nice chat.  Fun times.  

Side note:  I don’t know why I have no fingerprints.  Apparently some people are that way.  I’m one of them.  I’ll have to have two rejects from the sheriff’s department and then drive to the city to have OSBI take them and then they’ll finally say, “welp, she’s one of those folks with no fingerprints” and then I’ll finally get my license.  Why do I already know this?  Because that’s what happened when I tried to get my MS pharmacy license.  I worked for three months after I passed my NAPLEX at 75% pharmacist salary because I had no fingerprints.  Hideous.  Whatever.

Ok, this post is entirely too long and I’m tired (from the 7:30 am dentist debacle).  The rest of my day was spent with friends, the Halls, who came out with their two sweet kiddos to eat a lovely vegan lunch with us, then a nap, then a birthday party this evening for little Miss Nadia Mcquade, who turned two years old today.  A fun day but, alas, tomorrow is a work day and the second day of the month which means busy, busy, busy.  Peace out, homies.  We’ll chat again tomorrow.

Don’t forget to make an appointment to get your teeth cleaned.

Love, Luli

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5 Responses to “Oh my gooshney”

  1. jennifer white August 2, 2011 at 7:34 am #

    Gooshney? Really? I know they were thankful when OMG was invented! And I got my teeth cleaned yesterday. Another six months for me.

  2. Julie August 2, 2011 at 8:22 am #

    Hahahahahaha!!!!! Gooshney!!! How do you remember these things?!! I laughed so hard.
    So I don’t think we were encouraged to say gosh either but we didn’t make up any alternative words. Lol. Got nothin for ya.
    And what about no fingerprints???? That’s crazy?!!! How did I not know this? Did they wear off? Were you born with none?? I’m fascinated.

  3. Aunt Laine August 2, 2011 at 8:33 pm #

    Lovin your blog!!!

  4. corrie August 3, 2011 at 1:08 pm #

    We couldn’t say “butt.” We had to say bottom or “bee-hind.” Also, no “fart”s. My dad had some amazing substitutions for curse words. When he got really mad, like frustrated with something he was trying to fix, he’d say, “Mitsubishi!”, as in the car. Or, “Frizzle-frazzle!” My favorite was “Got dandruff!” in lieu of “G-dammit.” He’s shout, “Got dandruff! And some-of-it-itches!”

    • loveluli August 3, 2011 at 11:06 pm #

      We couldn’t say “butt” either!!

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