I once thought you couldn’t use the word “like” any more than we did in the 1980s. It was, like, a time when people said things like “radical” and “holy cow,” wore shoulder pads, spandex and drank Pepsi Free. “Like” was a prelude to pretty much whatever you were going to say.

Every schoolchild knew there was an important distinction between when someone “liked” you or “like liked” you, and when there were no words deep enough to express just how you felt on a subject, you could just say, “Like…yeah man.” Or if you were female, “Like…I know…right?!”

But as much as I thought the word couldn’t be overused any more than circa 1989, I think I was wrong. All you have to do now is log onto Facebook to see that like is back. Like it or not, like is bringing sexy back, along with a whole other string of words like friend, follow, subscribe, share, post, pin and tweet. Continue reading…

When I was growing up, I didn’t want to hear the word “No.” No kid does, really.

“Will you play with me?” No.

“Can I spend the night with Ginger?” No.

“Can I have another cookie?” No.

“Can I stay up late?”

“Can we order pizza?”

No, no and no. Continue reading…

The Spirit of Christmas gets a lot of attention nowadays, so today I want to talk about a lesser-known spirit – the Spirit of Thanksgiving.

There aren’t three ghosts that go with this one, nor Ebenezer Scrooge, holiday trees, or a cartoonish old guy with presents. Nope, the best the Spirit of Thanksgiving can offer are little kids wearing hastily glued construction paper Indian feathers and pilgrim hats. And cornucopias…although the black metal cornucopia in Hunger Games will probably have kids in art classes everywhere messed up for years. Continue reading…

This weekend I drove down to Alabama to take my 88-year-old grandmother out for a birthday dinner. She is my last remaining grandparent, and her birthday was earlier this fall. I have to say, when sitting down for a cup of coffee, there are few people on this earth I would rather drink coffee with than Tressie Carlean. Continue reading…

If I had a favorite beverage besides coffee, it would have to be Diet SunDrop. Those of you who have never had Diet SunDrop, I pity you. It’s similar to Diet Mt. Dew, but more awesome. Growing up, you knew you had officially come of age in the Hudson house when Mom let you drink SunDrop at the dinner table. Continue reading…

The most popular percentage of the hour is 47%. (The unemployment statistic can’t make up its mind and for those of you who missed it, “We are the 98%” is so nine months ago.)

Don’t worry – this post isn’t going to tell you which party you should support or who to vote for. Heaven knows there’s enough of that going around. This post was actually inspired by a conversation two friends of mine had on Facebook following the first presidential debate. The conversation went something like this:

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I recently went to see Trouble With The Curve with some friends. And while I think I could have lived without a mental image of Clint Eastwood peeing and eating spam from a can, the movie has its messages.

The movie is part a soliloquy to grumpy old men, part Dr. Phil, a tribute to a dream lost and part homage to a love of the game. In the movie, there is a prolific young (if not somewhat immature) hitter whom all the scouts are clamoring over. He can hit anything the high school pitchers throw at him and knock it out of the park. In the end, however, Clint Eastwood’s character advises his team not to sign him because he has “trouble with the curve.”

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I am addicted to coffee, and I might as well admit it. Hello, my name is Mandy, and I have an addiction. I know what you may be thinking…So what – a lot of people like coffee. But let me tell you, if you drink 2-3 cups a day, you are not addicted. Addicted is drinking an entire pot on your own and wondering, Who drank all the coffee?? Addicted is carrying Folgers singles in your purse just in case you go somewhere where they don’t have coffee, and you have to heat water over an open flame to make some. I don’t like instant coffee, but a bag of instant crystals might as well be gold when you wake up one morning at your parents’ house and they say innocently, “Oh…we ran out last week, Sweetie.” What can I say? I like having my personal stash of crack (I mean, coffee) there when I need it. (Speaking of crack, don’t ever start eating chocolate covered espresso beans. There’s no going back to Raisinets.)

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