I decided to measure it up against regular household items to see if anything could possibly be bigger.
My findings were astonishing.

It’s taller than a holiday greeting card.

Nearly as wide as my (dusty) computer charger.

Could likely pummel a banana in a fight.

Taller than a decorative table clock.

About the size of my external hard drive.

Taller than your average toaster.

Looming over my very first digital camera.

It’s even taller than the cordless phone that connects to our land line.

When I asked my dad (who refuses to ever get a cell phone the way I refuse to ever join Facebook) why he still had it, he said, “In case of an emergency, I think it can still dial 9-1-1″

That’s interesting, considering in the event there were an emergency, I don’t know that my dad would have time to run into my room, lift up a canvas basket, stacked on top of another canvas basket, and then rummage through old paperwork, a box of batteries, and a bag of markers to find this.

I still remember how awesome Uzma and I thought we were when we got this phone — star-filled eyes, oblivious to its enormity. Looking back now, I can’t think of any phone that could possibly have been bigger.

Oh, crap, ya’ll! I forgot about the CAR PHONE that came with my whip!

Ah yes, Readers…

We have a winner.

You Guys, I remember now.
Let me tell you what happened.

Like, six years ago, this elderly lady (my mom’s cousin, or “cousin” — who knows in Indian culture) came to visit my mom. I was home from college for a weekend, and briefly met this relative of my mom’s. We chatted for a little bit, and at some point I probably got her a glass of water, and next thing you know she goes up to my mom, and is like, “Oooohhhh, I want Sabrina to marry my grandson!” to which my mom responded, “Aww. Well, she’s not really interested in getting married right now,” but the lady was all persistent like, “Please just talk to her,” so my mom pulled me into the kitchen later that weekend, and was like, “Sabrina, do you want to marry a boy who lives in Canada who’s my cousin’s son?” and I was like, “No thanks,” and that was the end of that.

Besides, by that time, The Boss and I were total besties, and he had already started to decorate my world with his spectacularness. He taught me so much during our friendship that I used him as the new Man Standard in my life. And then, in an unexpected turn of events, which only repeatedly proves that God’s planning always best, I married The Standard Setter himself, three years later.

Life is always full of beautiful surprises.

So my mom and I are remembering this story, and she’s like, “Yeah she really liked you for her grandson,” and I’m like, “She doesn’t even know me!” and my mom goes, “Yeah, but she knows me,” and I’m all, “So?” and she’s like, “Sometimes that’s all that matters. A person knows and trusts the parents, so they feel like their kids will be good people, too” and I was all, “That is a crazed and backwards thought process! That poor boy in Canada! I could be a LUNATIC for all he knows!” and my mom looked at me all, COULD BE? and I’m like, “THAT’S exactly what I’m talking about.”

You Guys! That mentality is all,  Divorce rates for $2,000 Alex…

Question: Why do people’s marriages fall apart?

BRM! BRM!

Sabrina.

What is…marrying someone because you like their mom?

Correct, for $2,000!

I would never marry someone based on someone else. That’s like looking at a skinny girl and buying a size 2, when you know that you’re a size 8. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m not against arranged marriages because when done properly, they’re like blind dates. It’s like an “arranged to meet” kind of thing. If the couple doesn’t click, they go their separate ways, but if they do, they meet again, share ideas, family stories, life goals, and next thing you know they’re married, and living together happily ever after. It’s like a fairy tale, except not because no one’s skin is really that good, nor is their jaw line that sharp, and you’d have to have ribs removed to have a waist that little.

But I digress…

So my mom and I are talking, and I’m like, “That lady is such a bad grandma!” and my mom is all, “Don’t say that, she’s my cousin!” and I’m like, “Well, I’m sorry, but your cousin is a bad grandma. You can’t just marry your grandson off to a complete stranger! That is MAN OPPRESSION!” And then my mom was all, “Sabrina, don’t be so dramatic. She just thought you were a nice girl. Her grandson may not even have liked you anyway,” and I’m like, “EXACTLY MY POINT!”

You Guys! Mimmi would NEVER have done that to me! Why? Oh, no reason…other than SHE WAS AWESOME. But you know who would do that? A BAD GRANDMA.

Oh my God. Who would repeatedly call a sweet elderly lady who just wants her grandson to be happy a ‘Bad Grandma?’

A LUNATIC, THAT’S WHO!

When my mom told her cousin that I wasn’t looking to get married, the lady still gifted me with these beautiful decorative prayer beads, which is what I was taking pictures of the other day before my mom forced my hand, and made me start name calling the elderly. I absolutely love these beads, but looking back now, I’m wondering if this was Bad Grandma’s last ditch attempt to get me to meet her grandson.

I’ll give you these pimped out prayer beads if you marry my grandbaby…

You can’t bribe a person into marrying someone.
That’s offensive.
Besides, it’s not even like she offered me chocolate cake.

Me: So then, I have all these pictures, and I’m looking at them, and I’m like…wait a minute. Did I tell you this story already?

The Boss: …

Me: Because I feel like I told you this story already. Did I?

The Boss: Yeah.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me? That’s annoying to hear the same thing again. You should have stopped me.

The Boss: When an episode of “The Office” comes on, and I’ve already seen it, I don’t turn it off. I want to see it again just like I want to hear your story again. I like reruns.

You Guys! He totally compared me to “The Office,” AND he likes to hear me repeat myself.
I dun picked a good one, Internetz! I dun picked a good one.