I thought Instant Pot was a quick way to score weed? and other FAQ’s

I purchased my Instant Pot during Amazon Prime Day but I didn’t tell anyone. Is it too late to take part in the Larger Instant Pot Conversation?

Oosh. I don't know, Howard Hughes. Because really. What were you thinking, keeping a picture of the box arriving on your doorstep to yourself? Are you also the kind of monster who doesn’t take a picture of latte art LIKE IT DIDN’T EVEN HAPPEN?!

I bought my Instant Pot because White Facebook told me to. Should I open the box?

Yo. This isn’t like Holiday Barbie 1989. You should probably open it and put it on the counter alongside the The Magnolia Journal and a sprig of holly so White Instagam knows you’re legit.

I’ve heard you can make chicken soup in an Instant Pot in the span of 3 commercial breaks. But, like, what kind of commercials are we talking?

Listen. It was a crap metaphor. Instant Pot works like TiVo. It already lets you fast forward through commercials. Even the Geico ones which are hilarious. It probably even picks out things you might like. But just press the right buttons, mmkay?

I didn’t register for an Instant Pot when we got married because they weren’t invented yet. Now I really want to trade it in for my Crock Pot. I’ve also heard that Instant Pots can replace rice cookers. Is that true?

Questions about swapping out are something you and Marie Kondo are going to have to work out on your own. Will it spark lust? Jealousy? These are the keys to figuring it all out.

My husband purchased me an off-brand Instant Pot and I’m not sure what this all means?

Three words: stainless steel liner. No one will blame you when you file for divorce on account of not having one. A knock-off brand? Man, that’s cold.

AirBnB hasn’t created a filter yet for identifying which properties have Instant Pots. Do you think I should riot?

At least start a hashtag #MakingAirBnBGreatAgain and see if it can gain some traction. Pro-tip: KimYe is still a little gun-shy about AirBnB so maybe don’t bark up that tree for a retweet. Especially since we know Kim isn’t wearing clothes in that tree, but that is neither here nor there.

Should I be nervous about bringing an appliance into my home that, if opened at the wrong time, could shoot quarts of hot lava onto my skin or the skin of my loved ones?

I mean...define nervous. Next thing you’re going to ask is if any kid has ever swallowed a marble from Hungry Hungry Hippos. Pshh. No. Doy!

Does Instant Pot ever get people knocking on its door wondering if this is a quick way to score weed?

Please do not joke about this within or about the Instant Pot community.

Directions for my Memorial Slideshow

Whereas your mother is of a sound mind on this day the 11th day of January in the year 2018, she will be henceforth referred to as the Deceased. The Deceased shall entrust members of family, namely her children and eventual publishers of her memoir(s) to handle the attendant Memorial Service Slideshow according to these irrevocable conditions:  

• Archival photos in which the Deceased appears to be volunteering in children’s school or at least has Eyebrows on Fleek shall be given preferential placement in the slideshow arrangement.

• Archival photos that feature the Deceased wearing mom jeans, other pleated slacks, or more than one chin should be used sparingly, if at all.

• Under no circumstances shall images in which the Deceased appears to be holding more than one beverage in more than one hand be used in the slideshow.

• All musical selections should be vetted against the Deceased’s playlists on Spotify. If Spotify ceases to exist, under no circumstances should any songs be drawn from the Bob Carlisle’s “Butterfly Kisses” album.

• Unattributable quotations, such as “Live, Laugh, Love” will cause the Deceased to rage from The Beyond and should be used under no circumstances.

• All text slides should utilize a sans serif font. Okay, just kidding. Don’t go getting crazy and using Curlz or Comic Sans or something totally insane, ya wingdings.

• Preludes to the slideshow should be limited to live duets by Lea Michele and Chris Colfer in the spirit of “Defying Gravity” as seen on “Glee” (Season 1, Episode 9). OBVI.  

• Postludes should be brief but meditative and probably entail a string instrument.

• It is the Deceased’s wish that you would find yourselves crying throughout the slideshow because you found a reason to miss her -- I mean, HOW MANY TIMES was Leroy the Elf not moved in the morning? -- and not because the slideshow was triggering in a certain kind of way.

• Length of entire slideshow should be appropriately long based on years Deceased was alive, and just awkward enough for any ex-boyfriends present.
• The Deceased wishes to vouchsafe the fact that there are fun-size packs of Goldfish crackers for each of you in the vault if you get hungry.

Zumba Diaries

The New Year's risk-it-for-the-biscuit mentality had not worn off yet so I walked into the Unknown Class last night at the gym. I might not have been so bold except that the other students in the class didn't appear to have any of that Fearful Equipment of Specialized Gym Classes whereby you're never quite sure what they do with those hot pink bars and purple elastic bands and bright blue balls? (Question, why are the accoutrements of ladies' gym classes always in the color palette of a Lisa Frank pencil case?) (Question the second: What if you think they're just going to use the pole to balance because you wrongly assume this is tightrope class only to discover within minutes that they do other things around the pole, things for which you are wholly unqualified, WHAT THEN?) (Even if you did own a Carmen Electra DVD once upon a time, which is neither here nor there.)

The teacher for this class queued up the samba music and that's how I knew this was Zumba. I've Zumba-ed before, but by all means, please make an example out of me, Zumba Guru, in front of the class of 45 female strangers. "WHERE'VE YOU TAKEN ZUMBA? OH! A DANCE STUDIO? WHERE? OH. NOT CLOSE TO HERE?" Like when did jazzercise get name-droppy?

This teacher was super body positive and had most likely snorted a long line of cocaine before class because I have never seen a body move like this, at least not a body that did not belong to Sonic the Hedgehog (after he did a long line of cocaine, obvi). This class was very, very fast-paced but the lights were kept low. I don't know if the romance lighting was to enhance the whole body positivity or just add to the samba ambience (sambience?) but it did not keep me from almost decking a group of middle schoolers. And not to be all Mean Girls but who let the middle schoolers in? I would prefer only to jiggle around in public with other women who tinkle a little bit when they laugh or women who own a whole drawer of product labeled "age-defying."

The class was an hour long which was good since if left to my own devices, I will Zumba for four minutes until I feel my deodorant start to work and then I'll sit down and start unfollowing all the youngsters on Instagram who don't own any age-defying products, all while keeping that Zumbatastic beat, of course.

After the hour, it was hard to decide what my favorite Zumba moves were. Was it when I accidentally punched myself in the face and my glasses proceeded to rest slightly askew on the bridge of my nose for the rest of class Now...Grapevine! or was it when I proceeded to do the hip thrust in the wrong direction every single time so that it looked like maybe I was trying to partner dance? Cumbia! Oh oh, I know. I think it was when I got a crick in my neck from whipping it so hard in the manner of Sonic the Hedgehog that I Zumba-limped my way right into a hot bath when I got home. Boom, Pop pop pop, wowww!