FIRST! Before our regularly-scheduled fun. If you are reading this in a RSS-reader, do me a favor, and, just for today, click on over to my blog. Same if you’re reading this via email. GO GO GO!
CHECK OUT MY FANCY NEW HEADER YO!
My honey badger of a friend Cara, who is one of the most amazing graphic designers in all the world (also one of the most amazing friends, writers, photographers, co-conspirators, and all-around humans, but those are geekouts for another day, and also, I AM MEETING HER IN PERSON IN OCTOBERRRR) made me a HEADER! My OWN header! For my OWN BLOG! And isn’t it SO GORGEOUS? I look like a REAL BLOGGER! Who BLOGS ABOUT REALNESS! I am so excited I want to spin around in my chair right now.
Click on her link and check out her work. She is AMAZEBALLS. Probably you’ll want her to design something for you! Or take some photos for you! Or maybe you even want to buy one of her amazing posters! YOU CAN! And YOU SHOULD!
THANK YOU CARA!!!!
Also, in NEWS OF EXCITING, I’ve been planning this for a while but wanted to wait til I had something cool for the profile picture, but I think we all know that with my copious free time, THAT’S never going to happen. SO HERE. I made a FACEBOOK PAGE. For Lucy’s Football. Isn’t that the most exciting? I know it is. Now we can ALL BE FRIENDS. It’s pretty spanky, yes? Yes, yes it is. Go be my friend, I’ll post random stupid shit and we’ll all laugh. If you put emo updates on my page I’ll totally mock your asses. MAKE SURE YOU KEEP MY PAGE AWESOME.
NOW HERE WE GO CHICKADEES!
I am utterly and completely filled with exhaustion, you guys. I HURT, I’m so exhaustion-filled. BLERGH.
Every year I tell myself, I WILL LOOK FOR, AND FIND, A NEW JOB BEFORE NEXT TAX SEASON DAMMIT. I never do. I’m the Queen of Stasis. Stasisania. Stasisville. Stasistonia.
Also, I’m fairly sure all this stress is giving me an ulcer, because I’m eating all the antacid. Although I’m also eating all the wasabi peas, so the two could be related. YUM WASABI PEAS. It’s like a game I play with myself, eating wasabi peas. “YUM! Ow. OW! Yum. Ow. OW!” Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Also, the Rite Aid was out of my favorite antacid. I think that’s a sign of a massive conspiracy, right there. Who runs out of the best antacid in the world? What kind of drug store allows that to happen?
AND, it became very clear to me that I was entering cranky-land, population ME, when I started getting annoyed by EVERY DAMN LITTLE THING. Like, let’s take my visit to the Rite Aid. Not ONLY did they not have my antacid, they put PRICE STICKERS on the bottles of the store brand antacid RIGHT OVER the section that said “comparable to…” so I couldn’t tell what it was comparable to so I could buy the one that was most comparable to the one I wanted. So THAT made me stompy-stomp. Then I got to the register and had to wait like A MINUTE because no one was around and I was all “HUFF HUFF” and then the woman showed up and the first thing she said, as she was walking up, was, “Do you have a Rite Aid card?” in this totally hectoring tone as if she wasn’t going to wait on me if I said no. YES, LADY. Not ONLY do I have a Rite Aid card, I AM A GOLD MEMBER. TWENTY PERCENT OFF EVERY DAY. BAM. IN YOUR FACE.
Then I realized none of these things were things that would make ANYONE upset if a., they weren’t overtired, b., their stomach wasn’t on fire with either stress or wasabi peas, c., they hadn’t just worked ten hours straight without a single break at all and I think that’s against about 43 kabillion labor laws.
So I very nicely paid for all the less-desirable antacid and also LADY-VITAMINS (I think what makes them lady-vitamins is iron? I don’t know. They say “FOR WOMEN” on them) and then went to my car and listened to loud music on the way home and sang along obnoxiously. That helped.
Anyway, I’ve totally been remiss in thanking Cassie at Books and Bowel Movements for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award. It is very similar to the time I was nominated for a similar award, and I couldn’t accept it, because I don’t like pyramid-scheming others into playing. I don’t mind being pyramid-schemed, but I don’t like doing it to others, even though you all know I love to win more than I love dairy products. Here are my reasons. Ready?
- What if they hated me forever for it? I don’t know if I could live with that kind of rejection.
- I’m supposed to choose fifteen bloggers. I don’t like choosing people, for a variety of reasons. It feels like gym class, is one. I don’t like having to be the one to choose people. Someone always gets left out. Someone always gets their feelings hurt. And that someone is ALWAYS the most vocal and says something like “what, I’m not GOOD enough for you? Oh, I see how it is” and then you feel like a big old exclusionary asshole even though that’s not why you left them out and it makes you rethink your whole life plan. It’s the same reason I don’t like to do #FF on Twitter. Someone always gets a huge old knicker-twist. Then I have to buy more antacid. No one likes that, especially since we’ve established my Rite Aid seems to be bogarting the good antacid and possibly selling it for inflated prices on eBay.
- It seems like WORK. And I work a lot. I don’t want to work on my time off. I want to eat popsicles in the dark and talk to you all about penguins or something.
BUT. I will thank Cassie EVER SO MUCH for the award. Because it makes me have happy tingles that Cassie reads my blog, and likes it enough to think of me. Let me tell you some things about Cassie and how awesome she is:
- Not ONLY is she just utterly drop-dead gorgeous, the girl writes like a dream. Seriously. I think someone should hire her to write propaganda. Because I can NOT read one of her posts without wanting EVERY SINGLE BOOK MENTIONED IN IT. Every word has its place; every quote is perfectly chosen; the layout of her blog is beautiful. Seriously, click up there and check her out. You won’t regret it, especially if you’re a lit rat like I am.
- She has MAD SKILLZZZZZ. You should see her photography! I’m kind of a little jealous (FINE, A LOT), because she can write, she’s funny, she’s intelligent, AND she has an artistic eye.
- She seems to have fun in everything she does. I like that when I read a blog. When you can see the person who’s writing it in the words, and that person is someone you know you’d like to know in real life? That’s successful blogging, to me, right there.
So, Cassie, even though I am totally REJECTING the award, it is not out of anything but LOVE. And also fear. Fear of having to choose fifteen people and leave off others who might get yelly. I do so hate the yelly people. YELLY PEOPLE. PLEASE STOP IT. (Also, side note? If you notice yourself getting left out of things a lot? And you always make a huge stink about it? Odds are good THAT’S WHY YOU’RE GETTING LEFT OUT. Shush. People will come, Ray.)
I LOVE YOUR FACE CASSIE.
Also, I was supposed to hang out with Twitter people tonight, which fell through when one of us had to work late (me) and one of us had a meeting and the last one might or might not go on his own, I don’t know. This is sad, because how exciting would that have been? THE MOST. (I would say the Twitter people’s names but I don’t know if they want me to. I don’t want to be obnoxious. Shit, I already am. FINE. I don’t want to be OBNOXIOUSER.)
But don’t even try telling my dad you’re going to a bar to hang out with people you met on the internet. DO NOT.
Dad: Call me tomorrow. I’m watching basketball now.
Me: Can’t. I think I’m going to a bar to hang out with some people.
Dad: What? What people. What bar. ARE THEY INTERNET PEOPLE?
Dad: NO WAY. YOU STAY HOME. That is MURDERTOWN.
Me: It is not. It’s like an event. Other people will be there.
Dad: That’s what they tell you, but when you get there they murder you.
Me: I don’t think they will. They seem very nice.
Dad: They ALWAYS seem nice. Until the murdering starts.
Me: I’ve known them for MONTHS. That’s one elaborate ruse.
Dad: Killers have a lot of time on their hands. DO NOT GO.
Me: No, remember, one is the guy you totally bonded with because when I blogged that you thought Mom was trying to make you think you were crazy he said she was Gaslight-ing you and he accuses his wife of that, too? You said he was ok. You commiserated with him.
Dad: Oh. Yeah. I remember that. That poor guy. What about the other guy?
Me: He is very nice. He is not a killer.
Dad: No, I’m pretty sure he is. No one ever says, once a killer is discovered, “that guy seemed so killer-like!” They always say, “I am shocked! That guy seemed so nice!”
Me: THEY ARE NOT KILLERS.
Dad: Also, bars are where killings happen. If you show up and the lights are off, don’t go in.
Me: But how will I know if they’re having a surprise party for me?
Dad: NOT FUNNY. Also, if you show up and underneath the sign that says the name of the shady bar they told you to meet them at you can see another sign peeking out that says “Murders Here” or something, DON’T GO IN.
Me: I’d never enter a murder bar with such shoddy sign coverupmanship. That shows a total inattention to detail. I mean, after something like that, how could you even expect them to murder you efficiently?
Dad: Also, call me when you get there. And while you’re there. And when you leave. And when you get home.
Me: I didn’t call you this much when I was a teenager. You do know I’m in my late thirties and live four hours away from you, right?
Dad: So I know you’re not murdered.
Me: But what if I was murdered? What would you even DO about it? Would you avenge my death? Would you become Inigo Montoya?
Dad: No. Swords are a stupid weapon in this day and age. Too risky. Also, hard to conceal in your jacket.
Me: OK, so don’t go, and if I go, don’t go in, and if I go in, call you 47 billion times while there. I’m going to have a really good time. Maybe I should just stay home and call you, it’d kind of be the same thing.
Dad: YES. That’s PERFECT. Do THAT.
Well, Dad was glad to know that plans fell through. No, wait, scratch that. When I called him tonight, he FORGOT I EVEN HAD PLANS. I’m not kidding. It had already slipped his mind. In his defense, he’s really focused on basketball at the moment. IT IS ALL HE CAN THINK ABOUT. Well, basketball and murdering, I guess.
Ooh, new band name. Basketball and Murdering.
Happy Tuesday, my little cherry tomatoes! May your Tuesdays be a billion and one times better than your Mondays (but, obviously, nowhere NEAR as good as your Saturdays. Let’s not be crazy, here.)
(OH! And I KNOW it’s International Storytelling Day today and I said I might tell you a story about trees because the lovely SJ asked me to in my comments. but I don’t have the mental facilities to do so. Please forgive. I’ll try to come up with some sort of tree-story later. Will it still count?)
(OH! Also, I updated my blogroll, because I’ve been horrible about that. MAN are there a lot of amazing bloggers over there. So if you ever find yourself with way too much free time on your hands, and you think, WHATEVER WILL I DO? I know! You could read one of those blogs! And you’d be so happy, you know?)