Saturday Night Social: I'm (this) baby

Every now and then the internet bestows a meme upon us that reaches near universal usage, regardless of whether or not it holds any amount of universal understanding. Alas, as with much of the ephemera that exists within the confines of a digital existence, it is frequently no sooner that they arrive than they are replaced by the next quippy social virus and pushed to the edges of our collective consciousness. To paraphrase Dorothy, memes come and go so quickly around here.

While I mourn each of the brief moments of joy a new meme brings differently, none was more solemn of a farewell than the one I bid to the absurdist elation brought to me by “I’m baby,” which was here and gone before I could ever truly appreciate it. Primarily exacerbated by the jumbled nuclear filing cabinet that is my brain, I spent most of the meme’s life trying to determine whether or not I actually was baby, rather than relishing in the simple joy of being able to shout it into the endless void of the internet anytime I didn’t feel like producing a coherent thought.


I’ve laid awake at night, inexplicably devastated by the thought that perhaps I would live the rest of my days bereft of the opportunity to tell somebody, anybody, that I too was baby. That was until I discovered this baby, that as it turns out, I absolutely, definitely am.

Knowing the internet, this will certainly become a meme of it’s own, but it really bears no further explication. I’m baby and the ice cream is, well, ice cream. Alternatively, I’m baby and the ice cream is also the leaked Lady Gaga track Stupid Love. Additionally, the ice cream is Bon Appétit YouTube videos, my first iced coffee of the morning, my weighted blanket after a long day, Cheer on Netflix, and the love and support of my friends.

The point is really that finally, at long last, I’m baby. And you’re baby too, if you want to be. The only question left to answer is, what’s your ice cream?



I paid off my mortgage yesterday! It took me 18 years, but it was 7 years early on a 25 year mortgage.

I slogged through the rain last night to the liquor store (I’m in Ontario, and we can only buy liquor at the liquor store), and splurged on a small bottle of Veuve Cliquot; the original champagne. The real deal. I do not even like champagne, but it is a law that you must drink champagne on such an occasion.

Tonight, it’s been made into a mimosa.

Today, this very minute, I have no debt whatsoever; no mortgage, nothing on my line of credit, and a zero balance on my credit card. That could all change tomorrow of course, if there is a sick pet, or a house emergency, but for right now, I’m drinking my mimosa and enjoying being debt-free for the first time in nearly 30 years.