Wow, where have I been for the last few days? Oh, that’s right: in a total funk. And I spared you, dear Interweb, from my wrath and screechiness. People who had to interact with me in real life weren’t so lucky. You’re welcome.
Ever have one of those days or weeks where it’s a perfect shitstorm of little troubles that add up to make life feel so stifling? I didn’t get the memo that I am a total incompetent unworthy of breathing the same air as everyone else around me, but luckily I seem to be surrounded by people willing to tell me that and then really drive the point home a few more times if it didn’t sink in at first (see aforementioned “incompetence”) so I guess I’m really lucky to have so much reinforcement in my life. Sure, there are other people telling me that I am lovely and fun and smell nice and all that but somehow I got sucked into the “You are a Fuck-up” vortex and am just now climbing my way out of it.
What was I saying about sparing you from my bitching and moaning? Whoops.
Anyway, I am determined to have a better week. This weekend has been a restful one and I feel ready to take on the jackasses. Also, we had a new shower door installed yesterday which has meant a lot of opportunity for me to yell the word “caulk” every five minutes. Nothing soothes my soul like irritating my mother.
So, remember when I nodded my head in agreement with The Bloggess, added my own list and opened up the floor to others? And also called out men as whorish pigs who will do anything, any time? Good stuff.
Anyway, The Bloggess apparently reads this site or something because her follow up is here and So. Fucking. Funny. Seriously. I was doing that really attractive stifled snort-laugh while reading this.
So, Fellas, wanna weigh in finally? (Note: if you are my dad, I beg of you NOT TO OFFER YOUR OPINION ON THIS TOPIC EVER AND WE SHALL PRETEND THERE ARE PICTURES OF UNICORNS HERE INSTEAD. OK?) Send me your offbeat picks, and if the mood strikes, the Maxim-style hotties you wouldn’t touch, too. If you’d prefer to remain sorta-anonymous but want to participate, you can email me and I’ll post a running list. And then privately mock you, because I am a sweetheart like that.
I feel like I’m slowing down on the posting and even the urge to post regularly. Maybe my funny and creativity has a finite supply and we’re scraping the bottom? I mean, finding a bag of shit was sort of a Godsend in a way because it gave me SOMETHING and I could be all, “Dude, I posted. Everyone STEP OFF.” But one can only stumble upon so many bags of shit before a.) getting a rep as a one-trick pony and b.) seriously questioning your life because I think the universe is trying to tell you something when you keep opening bags of shit. I mean, really.
The more I think about it, the more I doubt that I am just flat out of things to write or say. I mean, have you met me? I have something to say about everything and am rarely shy about expressing my opinion. And obviously I am willing to lay my crazy out there for everyone and share unflattering stories about myself. But lately I’ve been questioning my boundaries. Like, what is really OK for me to post? And is it OK to share things about other people who don’t have a blog AND possess a certain amount of dignity and maybe didn’t sign up to be material for my silly little site? And even if I do think it’s totally OK to share things about another person/other people, is that interesting to a wider audience? I mean, do you want to hear the shmoopy talk? Because even I want to punch myself in the face sometimes. Yeah, I am THAT annoying. Granted, I feel due for some happiness in this area, but that doesn’t mean y’all want to hear about it. Plus, HELLO privacy.
So, fellow bloggers, opinionated peeps and the other four of you who read this: how do you decide what makes it to the blog? Do you follow the “If I’m OK with my mom and /or my boss reading it, go ahead. If not, hit ‘delete’!” school of thought? Free-for-all? My past pattern had been daily or near-daily posting, mostly as a means of doing something creative each day and getting back into the habit of writing. But maybe I’ve sacrificed some quality for quantity? How do you approach frequency of posting? Specific schedule? When the muse graces you with glory and inspiration? When you find a PURSE FILLED WITH POOP? (Aside: I am never going to stop finding that funny. Just an FYI.)
In other news, I kind of want to go all the way with Pandora.com. I mean, I type in that I loves me some Neil Diamond all kinds of other awesome shit starts playing? Hell to the YES!
I dedicate this post to the ladies of LLD and Boy Chris. Our crimes against the Betas have been avenged.
The Scene: a quiet suburban street in Chico, just a block away from an elementary school.
The Players: CKD and EJ on the way to a graduation party.
EJ: “Whoa, I think that was a purse in the street.”
CKD: “Pull over. Someone might have lost it. If there’s a phone or ID we can turn it into the cops.”
EJ: “Really? You can do that?” *Turns around to retrieve purse*
CKD: “Yep. It’s the right thing to do and it’s good karma.”
*CKD jumps out of truck, picks up purse as a guy driving by yells out jokingly, “Hey, I think you found my purse haha.” CKD gets back in truck, EJ continues toward party.
CKD: “OHMYGOD. This purse is full of shit.”
EJ: “What kind of junk?”
CKD: “NO! It’s SHIT. Like, DOG SHIT. Stop the car!” *Throws purse out the window into the bushes, retrieves Purell from her own non-shit filled purse, proceeds to cover self. Starts laughing maniacally.
“Well, so much for good karma.”
EJ: “You know someone’s in the bushes cracking up.”
CKD: “Oh yeah. Good one, universe.”
I’ve been berated kindly asked to update more frequently, but I thought I was doing OK with the near-daily posts during the week. I am not God, people: I need TWO days to rest.
There’s lots going on in my life, but I’m just not sure the Interweb would find it all that fascinating. Here are a few things I’ve thought about writing, but then reason and good sense took over and I deleted the drafts.
- Dude, I got in touch with my white trash roots and went to some races at the Fairgrounds and saw a tire fly off a car and into the street.
- If someone says I look “good for my age” or “I never would have guessed you were THAT old” one more time I am opening up a can of Whoop-Ass.
- It’s really fucking hot and it’s only MAY.
- Our family game of “Hippie or Hobo?” hasn’t caught on with the general population and that is a tragedy, my friends.
- My mom said the word “tool” while we were in a boutique, I giggled and the salesgirl giggled back so I think she may be my new best friend.
- I thought of a few more sorta-weird additions to the list but I’m pretty sure it will be used as evidence to have me committed so I’m taking that shit to the GRAVE. HA!
- Is anyone else super-bummed about Battlestar Galactica ending?
So, um, yeah. BOOM! Updated. You’re welcome, Humanity.
“I took Spanish in high school so I could get people to buy me alcohol.”