I took a four year hiatus from blogging, but these are trying times, folks. I'm here to bring you real, endearing, and sanity saving stories from the 2020 lock-in.
Some days, I barely survive. Other days, I'm crazy awesome.
Yoy is my husband's nickname, so naturally, I'm Mrs. Yoy.
Mrs. Yoy: Fan Girl
Dear Mindy Kaling,
I haven't written a piece of fan mail since the 1980s when David Hasselhoff and KITT ruled TV, but I'm feeling very inspired.
I'm sure you get loads of fan mail from girls proposing best friendship. I am not one of them. I had a best friend and she was the bee's knees. She wore funky glasses and kicked ass as an architect.
She passed away last week at the age of 39 after a two year battle with a very aggressive form of brain cancer.
I'm not trying to bum you out. I just wanted to thank you.
You see, me and my best friend would cuddle up on our couches to watch The Mindy Project together. And even though we were separated by over 600 miles, it was like she was right there with me. I'd pick up the phone and call her to repeat some insane Dr. Lahiri line. (We especially enjoyed the Jewish summer camp intro, as two former campers.) And later, when she lost the ability to talk, I'd text her. And I'd get an LOL right back.
For those thirty minutes we forgot about the chemo and the scary prognosis, and laughed our asses off. We could just be us again. And I will be forever grateful to you, the actors, the writers, and especially the costume designer, who dresses you oh-so fabulously.
I'm not sure if you'll ever read this, I just wanted to put it out there into the universe.
P.S. The Hoff sent me back an 8x10 signed photo of him laying atop KITT in an awkward/sexy pose which was pretty much the best thing ever. In case you were wondering...
Hi folks! A quick note from Mrs. Yoy as I know it's been awhile. For those that know me personally, you know that I've been very vocal in unsuccessfully convincing the Cobb County School board to change their COVID policies, which to this day, remain a steaming pile of sh*t. We follow zero health guidelines and figuring out the quarantine policy is akin to solving that math problem from Good Will Hunting. I will be publishing the letters I've sent to the board and Superintendent over the last 18 days of school. I've heard back from my representative, who is lovely, and my pediatric dentist who also serves on the board, but it's been crickets from the voting block of four and the Superintendent, Chris Ragsdale. Apparently, he's too busy pumping iron and self-tanning. Anyway, enjoy. HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! (E-mail sent on August 2, 2021) Good morning from East Cobb! As a long time resident, I am writing you this morning to plead with you to reconsider the mask
Good Morning from Quarantine-land in East Cobb. I am writing to you, as I have numerous times since the first day of school on August 2nd, to plead with you to reinstate the mask mandate in Cobb County Schools. I spent yesterday talking to my son through a bedroom door. We have been trying to limit contact between him and the rest of our family, as he received his first close contact letter on Tuesday. A COVID positive boy that sits at his table in class, MASKLESS , breathed on my son for an hour on Monday morning. Thankfully, my son was wearing his mask. We will go tomorrow to get tested for COVID. Currently, our days consist of temperature checks, CTLS checks, and a few massive meltdowns sprinkled in. As my son sobbed through the door, he relayed how stressed he was, worried about missing class while his assignments piled up. As I tried to soothe his troubled soul, I thought of you all. You did this. You own this terrible, gutless decision. My son then told me he is being teased at
Day 58. Today was a big day. I had to go to the Yoyser's school to pick up their stuff that they left behind in March. Back when we were all complaining that they'd be out until after Spring Break. Oh. The horror. Back when we joked that if they weren't back in school by my birthday, I'd be disappointed. Oh. THE. HORROR. Back when if you'd have told me that I would spend the next 60 days straight with my children, without CycleBar, without my mani/pedis, without my bra, I would have laugh/cried. OH. THE. HORROR. We were allowed back in, in very small groups with strict instructions. Wear a mask. Grab their bagged items, their yearbooks, and get the heck out. Everything was one way. I did have a chance to see their Principal one last time, as she is being transferred to another school. I wanted to hug her and thank her for all she has done for my boys over the past five years, but that wasn't going to happen. So behind my masked face, I tried to pour all of m