Had the Walking Guilt Trip over for dinner. It was very nice. Happy little extended family.
After dinner, The Walking Guilt Trip and I commense the necessary mother/daughter "small talk."
"How's your book coming?" she asks.
"Actually, I finished it." I hesitate to give my mother any good news without a justification, soI quickly amend, "Only the first draft, of course."
"Are you going to send it out to Publishers, then?" (Any publishers out there, please forgive my mother, she doesn't know what she speaks of. I wouldn't think so highly of myself as to send you any manuscript without an agent first accepting it as halfway decent.)
"It's just a first draft, Mom, I still have to revise it like 16 times before I can send it out."
"Not if you're good enough." Is it just me, or does anyone else now assume they're not "good enough" either??
Rather than blow a gasket as I might normally do, only to have a ridiculous guilty conscience later, I try to calmly explain why this comment may offend me. "It's not good enough Mom, and can you understand how telling me that if I was good enough it could be published right away might make me feel more like I've failed at something rather than accomplished something?"
I thought I was AVOIDING a guilt trip...hahaha The Walking Guilt Trip knows no boundaries! She began to CRY. On cue. Immediately. "Oh Penney, can't I do anything right?"
Oh glorious guilt trip! YOU MADE YOUR MOTHER CRY!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Vasectomy, anyone?
I left the Unsupportive Louse alone with the Energizer Bunny for 3 hours last weekend. WHAT was I thinking?? THREE WHOLE HOURS?
They had dropped me off at a meeting because we'd all been in the general vincinity just before it began, and they were going to pick me up if the timing was convenient to naps, snacks, whatever else is involved in the life of an Energizer Bunny. Otherwise, I would just walk or bus home. A fine plan.
So, my meeting ends. I call, the Energizer Bunny is desperate to see me; they're excited to come pick me up. Wonderful.
Two minutes later, the phone rings -
"Hey, everything okay?" I ask
The Energizer Bunny is screaming in the background. "FIND YOUR OWN WAY HOME!" Click.
Hm.
I begin the 3 mile walk home.
15 minutes later, I get a text message -
"I'm getting a vasectomy tomorrow"
Obviously such a procedure needs to be performed immediately, no time to delay!
I call.
The Energizer Bunny is crying in the background. "He's being unreasonable!!"
"He's 2."
"So!?"
"He's frustrated. He's having trouble trying to communicate with you."
"Tell him to speak English!"
"He's 2."
"EXACTLY! He's had TWO YEARS to learn! It doesn't take two years to learn a language!"
I pause. How does one respond to such a rational statment? "Give him a little more time. Try to be patient with him for now."
"Just come home before I strangle him." Click.
I speed up.
Ten minutes later I'm almost home. I call to make sure they're both still breathing.
The Energizer Bunny is wailing in the background. "Where are you!?"
"Almost home. Why don't you guys walk to meet me?"
The Unsupportive Louse suggests such an outing to the Energizer Bunny. The wailing stops.
"Yes. Go find Mommy."
"Fine." Click. Sigh.
Two mintues later, I hear the creaking, wobbling wagon the Energizer Bunny adores. No wailing. This must be a good sign. The wagon turns the corner.
The Unsupportive Louse spots me. The wagon is flung down the sidewalk toward me. "He's all yours." He turns around and walks away.
The Energizer Bunny jumps into my arms and yells over his shoulder, "I luuub you, Da-dee!"
The Unsupportive Louse later tells me that The Energizer Bunny gets his "insanity" from me. Hm.
They had dropped me off at a meeting because we'd all been in the general vincinity just before it began, and they were going to pick me up if the timing was convenient to naps, snacks, whatever else is involved in the life of an Energizer Bunny. Otherwise, I would just walk or bus home. A fine plan.
So, my meeting ends. I call, the Energizer Bunny is desperate to see me; they're excited to come pick me up. Wonderful.
Two minutes later, the phone rings -
"Hey, everything okay?" I ask
The Energizer Bunny is screaming in the background. "FIND YOUR OWN WAY HOME!" Click.
Hm.
I begin the 3 mile walk home.
15 minutes later, I get a text message -
"I'm getting a vasectomy tomorrow"
Obviously such a procedure needs to be performed immediately, no time to delay!
I call.
The Energizer Bunny is crying in the background. "He's being unreasonable!!"
"He's 2."
"So!?"
"He's frustrated. He's having trouble trying to communicate with you."
"Tell him to speak English!"
"He's 2."
"EXACTLY! He's had TWO YEARS to learn! It doesn't take two years to learn a language!"
I pause. How does one respond to such a rational statment? "Give him a little more time. Try to be patient with him for now."
"Just come home before I strangle him." Click.
I speed up.
Ten minutes later I'm almost home. I call to make sure they're both still breathing.
The Energizer Bunny is wailing in the background. "Where are you!?"
"Almost home. Why don't you guys walk to meet me?"
The Unsupportive Louse suggests such an outing to the Energizer Bunny. The wailing stops.
"Yes. Go find Mommy."
"Fine." Click. Sigh.
Two mintues later, I hear the creaking, wobbling wagon the Energizer Bunny adores. No wailing. This must be a good sign. The wagon turns the corner.
The Unsupportive Louse spots me. The wagon is flung down the sidewalk toward me. "He's all yours." He turns around and walks away.
The Energizer Bunny jumps into my arms and yells over his shoulder, "I luuub you, Da-dee!"
The Unsupportive Louse later tells me that The Energizer Bunny gets his "insanity" from me. Hm.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Mother-of-the-Year
The grown-ups (very loosely used, since it does, after all, include my brother The Mooch) in the household came down with what can only be attributed to food poisoning after our rainy labor day garage barbecue (hey, the best laid plans can't be completely foiled by a little rain...) While I might be more willing to credit carbon monoxide poisoning to our illness, as the majority of charcoal produced barbecue smoke poured into our kitchen from the garage door throughout the entire affair, I would assume the small child would be most prone to said poisoning, and thus must toss out that idea altogether.
So the Energizer Bunny, having refused the delicacy commonly known as a hamburger for dinner, remained ever so energetic while any and all caregivers were stuck in the (thankfully three separate) bathrooms throughout the day. Not to be vulgar or anything, but, there is nothing like taking care of a two-year old while requiring to alternatively hurl and shit oneself. Really. You should try it.
Following a desperately long day praying to the porcelain god after doing nothing even vaguely close to deserving such a pleasure, one must make sacrifices. I am sorry to relate to you now that my sacrifice was the safe care and well-being of the Energizer Bunny.
We went to bed before him.
That's right, folks. We plopped him down in bed, gave him some books and blocks, and told him to be good. Tucked ourselves in good and tight and drifted off to dreams of happier days while our child fended for himself in the other room. I hereby nominate myself for Mother-of-the-Year.
You'll be glad to know he's still alive AND the house is still standing.
Please don't tell The Walking Guilt Trip.
So the Energizer Bunny, having refused the delicacy commonly known as a hamburger for dinner, remained ever so energetic while any and all caregivers were stuck in the (thankfully three separate) bathrooms throughout the day. Not to be vulgar or anything, but, there is nothing like taking care of a two-year old while requiring to alternatively hurl and shit oneself. Really. You should try it.
Following a desperately long day praying to the porcelain god after doing nothing even vaguely close to deserving such a pleasure, one must make sacrifices. I am sorry to relate to you now that my sacrifice was the safe care and well-being of the Energizer Bunny.
We went to bed before him.
That's right, folks. We plopped him down in bed, gave him some books and blocks, and told him to be good. Tucked ourselves in good and tight and drifted off to dreams of happier days while our child fended for himself in the other room. I hereby nominate myself for Mother-of-the-Year.
You'll be glad to know he's still alive AND the house is still standing.
Please don't tell The Walking Guilt Trip.
Monday, September 7, 2009
They’re Baa-ack
The problem with living in a college town is that you have four months of gorgeous summer to forget that you live in a college town. (Ironically, this is also the problem with living in Michigan in general…four solid months of warm weather that allows you to forget that the other eight are below zero.)
All summer long, you can walk, drive, bike, eat, shop without a care in the world.
And then comes September. Anywhere you look there’s exposed skin and mid-afternoon underage drinking, I-pods and earbuds and excess stupidity. Kids who have had nothing better to do all summer but run to amplify the perfectness of their still teenage bodies and lay out for endless hours to improve their tans, and of course spend Mommy and Daddy’s money on new clothes, shoes, Coach bags and enough make-up to camouflage a cow.
In no time we can add to this clever group the infamous leggings/Uggs combination, since winter immediately follows the return of undergrads in this glorious town we call Ann Arbor.
And now they’re back. They’re walking in the middle of streets and throwing red Dixie cups at passers-by. They’re tossing footballs over cars and playing their ipods loud enough to get the cops called. They’re wandering around like lost little doe-eyed sheep when alone but confident as vultures in large groups. They’re obnoxious.
And what’s worse? Their parents are here too. For this first fantastic week before Labor Day, the parents drive their sweet babies to their new big city school.
And their parents are the ones who, rather than stop or just keep going at a crosswalk will slow down to the point where I have to fully stop on my bike, then continue along their way once they’ve made sure I’ll have to work extra hard to make it home today. Their parents are the ones who demand different seats in the restaurants because “this table has a little something on it” or “that table has better lighting.” Their parents are the ones who unload their luggage into the middle of the street while their precious little angel is carrying a bookshelf up the stairs in her miniskirt and heels, and then wonder what all the drivers are getting annoyed at.
To ensure me that all of Ann Arbor is excited for the return of the undergrads, I actually saw my three favorite Ann Arborites today, for the first time this year. The bikini wearing, bicycle riding homeless man. And the pinkie holding, tie-dye shirt wearing unicyclist couple. Ahh...college towns.
All summer long, you can walk, drive, bike, eat, shop without a care in the world.
And then comes September. Anywhere you look there’s exposed skin and mid-afternoon underage drinking, I-pods and earbuds and excess stupidity. Kids who have had nothing better to do all summer but run to amplify the perfectness of their still teenage bodies and lay out for endless hours to improve their tans, and of course spend Mommy and Daddy’s money on new clothes, shoes, Coach bags and enough make-up to camouflage a cow.
In no time we can add to this clever group the infamous leggings/Uggs combination, since winter immediately follows the return of undergrads in this glorious town we call Ann Arbor.
And now they’re back. They’re walking in the middle of streets and throwing red Dixie cups at passers-by. They’re tossing footballs over cars and playing their ipods loud enough to get the cops called. They’re wandering around like lost little doe-eyed sheep when alone but confident as vultures in large groups. They’re obnoxious.
And what’s worse? Their parents are here too. For this first fantastic week before Labor Day, the parents drive their sweet babies to their new big city school.
And their parents are the ones who, rather than stop or just keep going at a crosswalk will slow down to the point where I have to fully stop on my bike, then continue along their way once they’ve made sure I’ll have to work extra hard to make it home today. Their parents are the ones who demand different seats in the restaurants because “this table has a little something on it” or “that table has better lighting.” Their parents are the ones who unload their luggage into the middle of the street while their precious little angel is carrying a bookshelf up the stairs in her miniskirt and heels, and then wonder what all the drivers are getting annoyed at.
To ensure me that all of Ann Arbor is excited for the return of the undergrads, I actually saw my three favorite Ann Arborites today, for the first time this year. The bikini wearing, bicycle riding homeless man. And the pinkie holding, tie-dye shirt wearing unicyclist couple. Ahh...college towns.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Terrible, Horrible, No good, Very Bad Day
So I wrote this blog last week and then a ridiculous combination of my work computer hating blogger, blogger hating Word and my laptop hating the internet, I was completely unable to post. So whatever, pretend it's over a week ago and once you're done reading, you can go ahead and skip back to the present.
Thank God I got those awards last week ‘cause otherwise, I just might have had to slit my wrists. Or possibly moved to Australia. No, really. My day was THAT bad.
It was an accumulation of a week’s worth of crap ending in one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I told the Unsupportive Louse I was moving to Australia. He said they don’t have internet in Australia. I’m quite sure they do; you wouldn’t even notice the difference.
First, our basement flooded. The air conditioning was leaking. And the earliest “non-emergency” appointment we could get was five days later. (An all day appointment, of course.) We therefore had to leave it off…through the boiling, humid weekend. The ONLY boiling, humid weekend we have had all summer.
And when we went to pick up the dehumidifier someone offered to us, someone else had taken (stolen?) it from their driveway. Jackholes. Of course we then discovered mold on the couch down there because it was so freaking humid. And a light shorted out after literally DRIPPING with condensation. We had to turn the HEATER ON to dry it out. In 95 degree weather.
Granted, it was only 62 degrees in the basement (a part of the problem) but F#*@ I don’t even let us use the heater in the WINTER, much less the summer!!
And the Energizer Bunny learned to say something that sounds suspiciously like “bucket.” (perhaps better written Buck It?)
It was also his first week at a new daycare, and I’m certain that will make a good impression.
Not only that, he’s decided to show us how pissed he is about having to change daycares by biting the other kids. And then laughing. (Oh, but he knows how to get away with it; he always looks very sweet and contrite when he tells me he’s sorry he bit the baby.)
So I spent an excessive amount of time settling the sweet, contrite, biting Energizer Bunny in at daycare Thursday morning and when I got to work an HOUR AND A HALF late, I have a concise little e-mail waiting from my boss. “Let’s meet as soon as everyone gets in.” AS SOON AS EVERYONE GETS IN. SHIT.
As if this can get worse, the meeting was all about a huge mistake I made that I cannot live down for the life of me. Awesome. I’m fairly certain I could get fired over this.
Oh but no, it doesn’t end there, it gets worse. I TOLD you God hated me!
I pick the Energizer Bunny up and flop myself on the couch immediately upon arriving home. He commences to tell me “Water down dere, Momma. En ba’ement, Momma. Buck It. Water en ba’ement.” He narrates everything he sees or thinks these days. Adorable really. Except when it includes words like bucket and reminders of your quickly decaying life.
“Momma, hole up dere. Hole Momma’s seel-ing. Flour on floor. Make cake wi’ dat. Momma, make cake?” He comes running to the living room to beg me to make a cake, but my mind is still stuck on that damn hole. I wish I could just sit on the couch. I wish I could ignore it. I wish there was an explanation, but…?
Oh, yeah. There’s a hole in the ceiling. A hole the size of my fist. (The “flour” is the fine chalky white bits of paint and drywall all over the floor.) It would seem we have new friends who would like to share our home. Squirrels. They’ve clawed through the mesh over a vent on the outside of the house.
AAAHHHH!
I’d love to have a shoulder to cry on.
Just my luck, the Unsupportive Louse arrives home at this very moment. He does some hairpulling, some “hemorrhaging money” and “shoulda stayed in the studio” yelling, and then lets me go garden to relax myself.
Day’s over, right? Oh no, not yet. God has more in store for you!!
I knocked a beautiful, bright green tomato right off the vine. The Energizer Bunny then pulled a second, tiny green tomato off the vine. “I he’p, Momma. I pick ‘mato! Turn red now!”
Now here’s the clincher. The beautiful pumpkin plant that had several tiny little starter pumpkins on it last week…now has 2 GOURDS. No mistaking them, they’re not pumpkins, they’re gourds. Whatever, I know a pumpkin is a gourd, that’s not what I’m talking about. These are stupid, useless, warty yellow gourds. I bought pumpkin seeds.
Really, God? What must I do??
Thank God I got those awards last week ‘cause otherwise, I just might have had to slit my wrists. Or possibly moved to Australia. No, really. My day was THAT bad.
It was an accumulation of a week’s worth of crap ending in one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I told the Unsupportive Louse I was moving to Australia. He said they don’t have internet in Australia. I’m quite sure they do; you wouldn’t even notice the difference.
First, our basement flooded. The air conditioning was leaking. And the earliest “non-emergency” appointment we could get was five days later. (An all day appointment, of course.) We therefore had to leave it off…through the boiling, humid weekend. The ONLY boiling, humid weekend we have had all summer.
And when we went to pick up the dehumidifier someone offered to us, someone else had taken (stolen?) it from their driveway. Jackholes. Of course we then discovered mold on the couch down there because it was so freaking humid. And a light shorted out after literally DRIPPING with condensation. We had to turn the HEATER ON to dry it out. In 95 degree weather.
Granted, it was only 62 degrees in the basement (a part of the problem) but F#*@ I don’t even let us use the heater in the WINTER, much less the summer!!
And the Energizer Bunny learned to say something that sounds suspiciously like “bucket.” (perhaps better written Buck It?)
It was also his first week at a new daycare, and I’m certain that will make a good impression.
Not only that, he’s decided to show us how pissed he is about having to change daycares by biting the other kids. And then laughing. (Oh, but he knows how to get away with it; he always looks very sweet and contrite when he tells me he’s sorry he bit the baby.)
So I spent an excessive amount of time settling the sweet, contrite, biting Energizer Bunny in at daycare Thursday morning and when I got to work an HOUR AND A HALF late, I have a concise little e-mail waiting from my boss. “Let’s meet as soon as everyone gets in.” AS SOON AS EVERYONE GETS IN. SHIT.
As if this can get worse, the meeting was all about a huge mistake I made that I cannot live down for the life of me. Awesome. I’m fairly certain I could get fired over this.
Oh but no, it doesn’t end there, it gets worse. I TOLD you God hated me!
I pick the Energizer Bunny up and flop myself on the couch immediately upon arriving home. He commences to tell me “Water down dere, Momma. En ba’ement, Momma. Buck It. Water en ba’ement.” He narrates everything he sees or thinks these days. Adorable really. Except when it includes words like bucket and reminders of your quickly decaying life.
“Momma, hole up dere. Hole Momma’s seel-ing. Flour on floor. Make cake wi’ dat. Momma, make cake?” He comes running to the living room to beg me to make a cake, but my mind is still stuck on that damn hole. I wish I could just sit on the couch. I wish I could ignore it. I wish there was an explanation, but…?
Oh, yeah. There’s a hole in the ceiling. A hole the size of my fist. (The “flour” is the fine chalky white bits of paint and drywall all over the floor.) It would seem we have new friends who would like to share our home. Squirrels. They’ve clawed through the mesh over a vent on the outside of the house.
AAAHHHH!
I’d love to have a shoulder to cry on.
Just my luck, the Unsupportive Louse arrives home at this very moment. He does some hairpulling, some “hemorrhaging money” and “shoulda stayed in the studio” yelling, and then lets me go garden to relax myself.
Day’s over, right? Oh no, not yet. God has more in store for you!!
I knocked a beautiful, bright green tomato right off the vine. The Energizer Bunny then pulled a second, tiny green tomato off the vine. “I he’p, Momma. I pick ‘mato! Turn red now!”
Now here’s the clincher. The beautiful pumpkin plant that had several tiny little starter pumpkins on it last week…now has 2 GOURDS. No mistaking them, they’re not pumpkins, they’re gourds. Whatever, I know a pumpkin is a gourd, that’s not what I’m talking about. These are stupid, useless, warty yellow gourds. I bought pumpkin seeds.
Really, God? What must I do??
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
"Yes, Mother, I'd love to carpool."
So, The Walking Guilt Trip called me today.
Her first words were, "Do you want to carpool this weekend?"
Crap. This weekend. What is this weekend??
I racked my brain, I swear to GOD I racked my brain as hard as I could before I meekly curled myself into the fetal position and whispered, "What is this weekend?" At this point my mind pretty much beats itself, but The Walking Guilt Trip doesn't accept the abuse as true guilt, she prefers to do the dirty work with her own two hands...or her own two lips as the case may be.
"Well, it's fine if you don't want to go. I only asked because you'd said you wanted to go, but there's no reason for you to go if you don't want to. I just thought you'd might like to, but I don't want to force you."
"Go to what, Mom, you still haven't told me where we're supposed to be going?"
"Well, I did tell you, I told you when I asked you if you want to come, but obviously if you don't remember it's not important enough to you. So I'll just go by myself. It will be fine, I'm sure I'll know someone." If this sounds sweet and innocent to you, you're not adding the dripping sarcasm that is vaguely veiled as only a mother with the power to disguise guilt trips can vaguely veil anything.
"I'm sorry Mom, I just can't think of what it was you asked me to do this weekend. When did you ask?"
"I asked at least two months ago, you've had plenty of advance notice. If you planned something else, of course, that's fine, you don't have to go. Don't cancel anything on my behalf, I know you've got more important things to do." First, I'd like to point out that asking a longer time ago does not in fact make it more memorable in my mind. Two months ago in Michigan was practically winter, how am I supposed to think about anything that far away?? I have a two-year old, a husband who's lucky to remember my name, a live-in brother who can't even remember what month it is, and I'm supposed to remember something my mother asked me, in passing, I'm sure, AT LEAST two months ago? AND remember that it's this weekend?
So now, in an attempt to protect my poor brain from overdosing on guilt, I start throwing out things I think she may have mentionned to me a few months ago..., "Is it apple picking time? Do you want to go to that new restaurant that's supposed to be opening...is it already open? Did I miss that? Crap, sorry if I did. Was there a car show you wanted to go see? Wait, was that last weekend? Om, never mind. What about the art museum, is that opening back up already? Oh, no, I think I saw people going in there recently, didn't I?"
WRONG strategy.
"Yes, the restaurant opened last month, I already went with Karen since you were so busy, and the car show was a few weeks ago, remember, I brought The Energizer Bunny a little car back? I had to go by myself to that, no one was available that day. I'm not sure what you were doing, but I'm sure you would have called if you'd really wanted to go. And the Art Museum has been open for awhile now, but they already took down their special exhibit. I'm sure it will come back sometime, they usually rotate every few years, I'll just go next time."
I never did figure out what I was supposed to be carpooling to this weekend.
Her first words were, "Do you want to carpool this weekend?"
Crap. This weekend. What is this weekend??
I racked my brain, I swear to GOD I racked my brain as hard as I could before I meekly curled myself into the fetal position and whispered, "What is this weekend?" At this point my mind pretty much beats itself, but The Walking Guilt Trip doesn't accept the abuse as true guilt, she prefers to do the dirty work with her own two hands...or her own two lips as the case may be.
"Well, it's fine if you don't want to go. I only asked because you'd said you wanted to go, but there's no reason for you to go if you don't want to. I just thought you'd might like to, but I don't want to force you."
"Go to what, Mom, you still haven't told me where we're supposed to be going?"
"Well, I did tell you, I told you when I asked you if you want to come, but obviously if you don't remember it's not important enough to you. So I'll just go by myself. It will be fine, I'm sure I'll know someone." If this sounds sweet and innocent to you, you're not adding the dripping sarcasm that is vaguely veiled as only a mother with the power to disguise guilt trips can vaguely veil anything.
"I'm sorry Mom, I just can't think of what it was you asked me to do this weekend. When did you ask?"
"I asked at least two months ago, you've had plenty of advance notice. If you planned something else, of course, that's fine, you don't have to go. Don't cancel anything on my behalf, I know you've got more important things to do." First, I'd like to point out that asking a longer time ago does not in fact make it more memorable in my mind. Two months ago in Michigan was practically winter, how am I supposed to think about anything that far away?? I have a two-year old, a husband who's lucky to remember my name, a live-in brother who can't even remember what month it is, and I'm supposed to remember something my mother asked me, in passing, I'm sure, AT LEAST two months ago? AND remember that it's this weekend?
So now, in an attempt to protect my poor brain from overdosing on guilt, I start throwing out things I think she may have mentionned to me a few months ago..., "Is it apple picking time? Do you want to go to that new restaurant that's supposed to be opening...is it already open? Did I miss that? Crap, sorry if I did. Was there a car show you wanted to go see? Wait, was that last weekend? Om, never mind. What about the art museum, is that opening back up already? Oh, no, I think I saw people going in there recently, didn't I?"
WRONG strategy.
"Yes, the restaurant opened last month, I already went with Karen since you were so busy, and the car show was a few weeks ago, remember, I brought The Energizer Bunny a little car back? I had to go by myself to that, no one was available that day. I'm not sure what you were doing, but I'm sure you would have called if you'd really wanted to go. And the Art Museum has been open for awhile now, but they already took down their special exhibit. I'm sure it will come back sometime, they usually rotate every few years, I'll just go next time."
I never did figure out what I was supposed to be carpooling to this weekend.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Double-Mint Famous
I left you hanging yesterday, and I know you're concerned. I told you I'd been nominated for TWO (not one, but TWO) awards, and I only expanded upon one of them. I don't want you to die of curiosity, so I'll hurry to get this blog finished up and posted (between "real" work of course...but if it makes you feel better, I don't plan on leaving my desk for lunch...again...you'd BETTER love me for this!)
I've decided it isn't in fact blogger.com that hates me (that would just be silly, now wouldn't it?) but in fact it is my work computer that hates blogger.com (which makes complete sense) and it is my work computer that is not allowing me to post the damn picture in the MIDDLE of the fricking blog instead of at the top. But whatever. I endeavor to NOT CARE.
AHA!!! I am RIGHT! My laptop let me move the very same picture my work computer refused to let me move!! My work computer DOES hate blogger.com!! I cannot say I'm surprised, but slightly offended none the less.
So, this award is also from Rick at The Daley Rant because he loooooves me. (It's all right, you don't have to admit it, I already know) Or because he's lazy. But I prefer the former. So, on to the rules
- each Superior Scribbler must nominate 5 Superior Scribblers
I rebel. I'm nominating 3. This is because I decided not to doubly nominate people, or nominate people who had already been nominated and it seems this decreases my pool considerably. So 3 (extremely deserving people, I might add) it is.
- each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and blog that has won the award.
That Girl From Shallotte
Mindful Drivel
Brit Out of Water
- each Superior Scribbler must show the award on their blog (check) and link to this post
- each Superior Scribbler must add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List (check)
- each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on their blog. I'm not entirely sure why, but they're here anyway.
Now, I must say, this one did not command me to actually TELL these people that I nominated them...SOOO tempted not to and wait until they see it for themselves. Visit my blog and THEN you will be worthy!!!
All right fine, I'll tell them. Wouldn't want to upset them, after all...
I've decided it isn't in fact blogger.com that hates me (that would just be silly, now wouldn't it?) but in fact it is my work computer that hates blogger.com (which makes complete sense) and it is my work computer that is not allowing me to post the damn picture in the MIDDLE of the fricking blog instead of at the top. But whatever. I endeavor to NOT CARE.
AHA!!! I am RIGHT! My laptop let me move the very same picture my work computer refused to let me move!! My work computer DOES hate blogger.com!! I cannot say I'm surprised, but slightly offended none the less.
So, this award is also from Rick at The Daley Rant because he loooooves me. (It's all right, you don't have to admit it, I already know) Or because he's lazy. But I prefer the former. So, on to the rules
- each Superior Scribbler must nominate 5 Superior Scribblers
I rebel. I'm nominating 3. This is because I decided not to doubly nominate people, or nominate people who had already been nominated and it seems this decreases my pool considerably. So 3 (extremely deserving people, I might add) it is.
- each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and blog that has won the award.
That Girl From Shallotte
Mindful Drivel
Brit Out of Water
- each Superior Scribbler must show the award on their blog (check) and link to this post
- each Superior Scribbler must add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List (check)
- each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on their blog. I'm not entirely sure why, but they're here anyway.
Now, I must say, this one did not command me to actually TELL these people that I nominated them...SOOO tempted not to and wait until they see it for themselves. Visit my blog and THEN you will be worthy!!!
All right fine, I'll tell them. Wouldn't want to upset them, after all...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
It's Okay, You Can Have my Autograph
Dude, I'm famous! Some very important bloggers made up very important awards and I have been nominated. Obviously I am famous. Not only that, I've been nominated for TWO blogging awards!! Take that, Unsupportive Louse, this blogging crap *isn't* just a waste of time! HA!!
Good thing too, 'cause I apparently am trying really hard to get myself fired this morning, so maybe I can use this whole famous thing to make a buck. Or two. I don't know, but I needed the pick-me-up, so thank you very important bloggers for making up very important awards.
To keep you in desperate suspense, as any good writer is prone to do, I will only address one of the awards now. (And well, I am at work...you know, the "real" job..., and did already get a good flogging this morning, I'm not sure how much more I can really handle, so it might be prudent to stick to one for the moment...)
Ok, because Blogger.com knows I'm having a crappy day, it has decided not to let me put the little award picture down here. It has decided it will stay at the top of the blog. So whatever. It'll stay at the top. See if I care.
Now, for my tasks.
1- Thank the person who nominated you. check. You can thank him too, if you'd like, for making your favorite blogger famous and possibly, even you, by association of course.
2- Copy the logo and paste it in your blog. Uh done, but not here, cause life sucks at me. (I don't suck at life, I swear, it just sucks at me)
2- Copy the logo and paste it in your blog. Uh done, but not here, cause life sucks at me. (I don't suck at life, I swear, it just sucks at me)
3- Link to the person who nominated you for this award. Rick at The Daley Rant was crazy enough to nominate me. He also has a cool query letter blog for any aspiring writers out there (and really, aren't we all?)
4- Name seven things about yourself that people might find interesting.
4.1- I haven't eaten lunch yet, but I HAVE eaten two gi-normous cookies. (Despite the fact that I cannot help myself but to eat any and all sugary products placed vageuly near me, I am not yet ginormous myself. I'm trying to stave it off with running and biking...but give it 15 years, I'm still young.)
4.2 - I have insomnia. I blame this on actually being a REAL night person (which is wholly different from you people who *think* you're night people...) who goes to bed early only because I have to get up early. If it were up to me, I'd stay up until 4 every morning and not get up until 11 or 12. Hence, going to be at 10:30 is very difficult for me.
4.3 - I'm addicted to Facebook. Like, for real. I may have checked it three times while writing this blog. So far.
4.4 - Last week I was told by a high school friend on Facebook that I looked like I was still in high school and I'm still giddy about it.
4.5 - When I was little, I wanted to be a psychiatrist, an artist, an author, a teacher and a scientist. All at the same time. I was sure I could swing it. (Science teacher who does a few real experiments on the side, draws while the students are working, writes at night and sees patients on weekends. Duh. And I didn't just make that up now, I really thought it through back then.)
4.6 - I had my whole life planned when I was little, down to marrying someone with the last name West (at age 23, of course) so that I didn't have to change my name or choose my real last name over my step-father's last name (as a middle name) which I knew would upset him. I hate to upset people. My first college boyfriend's last name was West. When I discovered this (on our third date, whatever, it's not like it was a one-night stand, I just didn't know his last name, all right? Get over it.) anyway, when I discovered it, I was sure it was either a sign I should marry him instantly or get the hell out of town as quickly as I could. (In the end, I did neither.)
4.7 - I'm still that insane.
5. Nominate seven "Kreativ" bloggers.
6. Post links to said Kreativ bloggers.
I'm just gonna combine 5 and 6, cause I think they're only split up so previously mentionned Very Important Blogger could have seven rules.
5/6.1 Chief
5/6.2 Azucar (sorry, don't know how to get the accent on the u...)
5/6.3 Kel
5/6.4 Amy
5/6.5 Backpacking Dad (I don't know his name)
5/6.6 Different Girl (also don't know her name)
5/6.7 Kate
7. Comment on Kreativ bloggers blogs so they know they've been nominated.
While I'd prefer for them to have to return to my blog and read it to find out that they've been nominated to be as cool as me, I'll do this, since it's a rule. And I'd hate to break a rule. It might upset someone.
By the way, I spent way more time deciding which 7 to use for this award and which 5 to use for the other award, considering they're Very Important Awards *made up* by Very Important Bloggers.
And, with that in mind, I would like to post a link to a very, very profound comment.
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