Hi! Hi. How are things? Good? Your Monday going great? What? Mine? Yeah, it’s fantabulous. As Mondays are, you know. I mean, what isn’t exciting about a Monday, what with the working and the deadlines and the rushy-rushy nonsense? Nothing, is what. Mondays are JUST THE BEST.
Anyway! So let’s talk about blogs, okay? I know, I know, we talked about blogs YESTERDAY. And we’re doing it again! Today! Suck on it, haters, I got some THINGS that need SAYING, you feel me? Why am I talking like I’m from the street? I don’t know. I think I might have accidentally left the television on Law and Order: SVU last night while I was puttering around the living room or something.
So I do this blog thing. And listen, I just dig it the most, baby. It makes me irrationally happy. Like, I’d probably rather blog than do almost anything. Which is good, because otherwise, it’s a little confusing why I’m here at all. And I’m super-happy with this blog, and the work I do over at The Loser’s Table (which I have to do more of, speaking of – SORRY SORRY LOSERS I AM COMING RIGHT OVER SOON I PROMISE) and Insatiable Booksluts (again, I promise, new Death Match as soon as I can! Damn you holiday season full of busy-ness!) Do I know what I’m doing? Eh, I don’t know. Sort of? People read what I write. People seem to like it. I like the people who seem to like it an awful damn lot.
Here’s the question I get a lot. Is this me? I mean, is this how I really talk in real, real life?
Yes. And no.
If I love you and I send you an email from real live me, does it sound like this blog? Yes. Sometimes. I use my all-caps. I like parenthetical asides. I make words up all willy-nilly if the English language doesn’t have a word that quite suits what I want to say. Sure. Sure I do that. Because listen, if I’d created a completely different persona to write my blog with, I think it would have gotten old quickly, and I would have probably dropped it like I’ve done with the millions of other things in my life I’ve gotten bored with and moved on from. Like quilting, and beading, and sleeping 8 hours a night.
The people who know me best have said that reading this blog is like having a conversation with me daily. So yes. Yes, how I write here is very much how I write (and talk) in real life.
But also, I’m not always this hyper. Sometimes I’m a calm kitty. I know! Total shocker, yes? It’s called exaggeration. I do it for effect. It makes things over in these parts more EXCITING. But sometimes I write nice, calm posts. Like the John Lennon post last week. I’m totally bendy. I can do it ALL, baby.
Anyway, this is going off-topic so far that we’ve gotten to the bad part of town and we need to lock all the car doors in case someone tries to get in the car while distracting us by squeegeeing our windows with a dirty squeegee.
I don’t have any advice on HOW to write a blog. I just WRITE a blog. Is it good? Subjective. Maybe. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s just a hell of a lot of fun for me, and if you get that, cool, you can hop on my trolley, and if you don’t, great, another trolley’s coming right up, maybe you’ll like that conductor better, I don’t know.
So this weekend, a friend re-posted one of my posts (the one about “it is what it is”) on Facebook, and tagged a couple of his friends who he thought would enjoy it.
That resulted in this: the single most enjoyable blog critique I have ever received in my LIFE.
“I got to the second paragraph and realized I’d need to drink heavily before reading the rest. Where does one sentence stop and another begin? How do you justify entire and completely different thoughts parenthesized within a single, 6-line sentence? WHY DO THINGS NEED TO BE CAPITALIZED? I haven’t finished reading it yet, but I guess it is what it is”.
Now, before you, my loyal and loving minions, get all up-in-arms and “what the hell” and “what a douche” – please know I am not in the least bit offended by this. This has brought me more joy than you can even imagine. It is SO PERPLEXED. And it is SO INDIGNANT. Also, everything is spelled correctly (“parenthesized” made me shiver with delight) – and it’s a commenter on Facebook, where spelling and grammar are, as I’m sure you’re all aware, apparently optional. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with this person right now. AND, you KNOW he’s in love with me. Because, if we’ve learned anything from third grade, it’s that the boys that insult you the MOST also LOVE you the most, right? Yes yes yes.
I’m going to ignore the fact that later on in the conversation he told me that my usage of caps lock was “trite and over-done” because our burgeoning love is JUST THAT TRUE and JUST THAT RIGHT. Also, I hate conflict. I was telling @lahikmajoe about this this weekend. One time, when I worked at the video store, my big old mouth almost got me in a fight. Because there was this chick that worked there. And I was pretty sure she was an out lesbian. So someone said, in conversation, “you know, that girl who’s so mean to everyone” and I said, “Yeah, I know, the lesbian?” NOT DEROGATORILY I LIKE LESBIANS VERY MUCH. It was like saying, “the one with brown hair” or “the one with the nose ring.” I don’t give a shit what gender gets you off, for the love of Pete. Anyway, someone passing by heard that and told her “Amy called you a dyke” (I would NEVER EVER SAY DYKE) and so she showed up at the store one night when I wasn’t working and told my BFF to call me and get me there so she could kick my ass in the parking lot for calling her a dyke. (A., why’d you come on a night I wasn’t scheduled? B., I was like 23 at the time, that’s a little old for a parking-lot rumble, no?) So he called me and told me “Under no circumstances come here because she is scary. Also probably a lesbian so I’m not sure why she’s so mad.” And I kind of wanted to come there? Because I’ve never been in a fight, and maybe you should experience everything once. But he was all “NO NO AMY STAY HOME NO ONE LIKES FIGHTS” so I did. Then a year later she came into my new place of employment with a woman and they were holding hands and also kissing so I’m a little perplexed as to why she wanted to kick my ass for something that was true, but I guess that’s neither here nor there. I really didn’t say dyke. Who says dyke? Assholes, that’s who.
Dear Facebook Friend of a Friend Whose Name I Will Not Use Because I Think You Might Sue Me So I Will Call You Randy (aka Randy):
First, thank you. Thank you for one of the most enjoyable blog critiques I’ve ever had. No! I’m completely serious. I know it sounds like I’m being sarcastic? But I’m not. There was a skit once, on Kids in the Hall, where Dave Foley was sad because everything he said came out sarcastic, and he was so lonely because no one wanted to befriend the sarcastic man. I am the lonely sarcastic man in this scenario, Randy. I mean no sarcasm in this remark.
Let’s break this down, shall we?
First, thank you for reading a whole paragraph and part of a second. That’s further than a lot of people get! You’re the best. Are we in love? I think we might be. I like the direction this is going, Randy. I like it very much.
Second, as I told you on Facebook, yes. I always recommend that any of my readers drink heavily. Unless you’re in AA. Then probably don’t. I’d hate to hinder your recovery. That would be a total douche move on my part. And don’t tell me if you are in AA. The second A prohibits you telling me, I’m pretty sure. Listen, if you drink, I recommend Saturdays. We have Wine Saturdays on Twitter. Do you have a Twitter account, Randy? If you do, you should follow me. I’m a hoot over there. And as we’re totally in love now, I think you’d probably want to follow me. We could talk about cute stuff in our Twitter feed and people would know we were in love, and it would just be the best. In order for this long-distance relationship we’re in now to work, you really have to put some effort in.
As for where one sentence stops and the other begins, the rule of thumb is: follow the period. See? I just used one there. And another! Sometimes I end sentences with question marks; sometimes with exclamation points. Once in a while, I totally utilize an interrobang!? But you get the idea, Randy. End stop; new sentence, starting with a capital letter. Or sometimes with a new paragraph, I suppose. See how helpful I am? Just what you want in a mate, right? Thought so.
Justification of my parenthetical asides? Well, Randy, sad to say, I have none. Wait, no. That’s not wholly true. I have undiagnosed ADD, and sometimes I think of something SO EXCITING I can’t wait to share it. So I pop it in, parenthetically. I’m sorry if you think it didn’t flow. It probably didn’t. We’re still totally in love though, right? I’m a little worried you might not want me to meet your family now, and I’m pretty sure I’d rock at family-meeting.
Now, let’s discuss caps lock. That’s a dealbreaker, my adorable new sweetpea. I love my capslock. And my capslock loves me! I’m sure you totally spent your whole weekend reading all of my archives, and also my FAQ, where I explain my capslock usage, but in case you need a refresher: I actually KNOW that italicizing is classier and the way you’re SUPPOSED to do things. I don’t like doing things the way people tell me to, Randy. (Probably you’ll get that once we move in together. When’s that happening, by the way? Soon, right? I think you’ll like what I bring to the table. I have a red toaster. A RED TOASTER RANDY. I bet you have just a boring white toaster or something! Think of the joy you’ll get when making toast in my – I mean OUR – red toaster! The most joy, Randy. THE MOST JOY. Oh, wait, did I lose my train of thought? HOW UNLIKE ME RANDY.) So to answer your question: why? Why do things “need” to be capitalized? Well, they don’t NEED to be. But how boring would life be if we just did the bare minimum? You don’t seem like much of a go-getter, Randy, to tell you the truth. Like, I bet you don’t even like socks with wacky things on them. I would totally buy you wacky socks, Randy. AND WRITE YOU LOVE LETTERS ALL IN CAPS RANDY. Let’s do this.
Here’s what I like most about your comment, Randy. It ends on a note of hope. “I haven’t finished reading it YET.” (Capslock most definitely mine.) Yet? YET, Randy? So you’re going to, then. Don’t even tell me we’re not totally the most head-over-heels in love you’ve ever seen. I’m pretty sure this is that meet-cute they’re always talking about in romantic comedies, isn’t it. WON’T WE LAUGH AT OUR WEDDING RANDY. Whoo. Listen, though, I wrote a whole post about wedding rules, so you’re going to want to read that to brush up on my dos and don’ts. Like, if you face-cake-smush, we’re going to throw down.
Also, just to briefly address your comment of “trite” and “over-done” from last night: I’ll try harder, baby. I’ll work my way up to “hackneyed.” And – do I dare say it? – I’m going to strive for “jejune.” I’ll do that. I’ll do that for YOU. I’m totally into making this work. I’d do anything for love, Randy. NO I WON’T DO THAT RANDY.
So, in conclusion, Randy, I’m so glad we’re in love. And just so you know, I discussed it with my Twitter feed and when you propose (I’m really into platinum rings, just BTW, no, no, babe, nothing gaudy, I’m totally low-maintenance) I have to clear my acceptance with my minions, because if they’re not happy, NO ONE’S HAPPY RANDY. Don’t worry though, darling. I’m pretty sure they’ll love you. I mean, your impeccable grammar usage alone already has me all fluttery.
I eagerly await our lifetime of love together, Randy. I’m readying my capslock now.
LOVE, AMY. (SIDE NOTE: I don’t really have a side note. I just know you love them. IT’S ALL FOR YOU DAMIEN.)