I’ve been in the blogging community now for about five months.
What I’ve discovered is that I couldn’t live without it now.
Not only do I love writing, but I love reading. It’s like I’m allowed to walk past your windows late at night when the lights are on in your home, and peak inside not that I actually know what peeping is like, I’m just saying it’s probably a lot like that.
I have so many bloggers that I love, some have become friends to me like Aleksandra over at Busy Working Mama and Poppy over at Funny or Snot…in Poppy’s case though, I think I like her a lot more than she likes me, but that’s ok, I’m oblivious like that. I was the kid in kindergarten who’d follow you around even when you made it clear I had crusties in my nostrils. Self-respect is a small thing to give up when you’re hanging around with the kids who have Twinkies for desert when your mom sent you with that itty bitty box of rock-hard dried raisins.
And then there’s Jen at Booty and Brains who I’ve actually met, and our reunion was like a scene from a movie as we ran into each other’s arms. It was both heart warming and erotic, because seriously, Jen has a great ass.
The reason I’m writing this post is to say thank you to all of you who give me the time of day, who read my
drivel posts, who take the time to comment, and leave me awards. I do appreciate everything. I take nothing for granted.
The other day, one of my favourites, Kelley at Kelley’s Breakroom, left me an award, which I want to thank her for, but I also want to address the reason why I don’t usually then write a post in which I write about awards.
It’s not because I don’t care, because believe me, I do love me some validation.
I’ll take it anyway I can get it.
The thing with a bloggy award though, is that it requires you to write seven things about yourself. I do love
me writing about myself, but seven things? First of all, why seven? Why not a nice round number like ten?
But it’s hard work trying to think up seven things that aren’t boring. Oh, sure I could say things like: I love Chinese Food and I’ve been sleeping in the same ratty nightie for the past 15 years (don’t worry, it gets washed frequently enough).
However, in the spirit of the blogging community, and everyone who has taken the time to give me an award, here are seven things that nobody knows about me except my husband, my kids, and everyone else I’ve told this shit to:
1. Sometimes I’m so busy, I can’t find the time to wash my hair. I can go for 12, sometimes 13 days without washing it….Oh, don’t act so grossed out! Grease buildup in your hair is very healthy. You should see my hair when it’s clean: it’s like fucken Rapunzel’s. And anyway, there’s nothing a good hairclip and a baseball cap can’t hide. Now you’re actually starting to question the last time I washed my nightie, right?
2. Now that I have 2 teenagers, I don’t know how my parents ever tolerated me. The bullshit that comes out of my 14 year old’s mouth makes me want to slap him. The other day he was actually trying to make me believe that a friend of his, another 14 year old, has $46,000 in his bank account from laying bricks as a summer job. I’m like, “Dude, he’s 14! Maybe he inherited that or his parents have saved that for him, but there’s no way, he made that much money from laying bricks. Did he start working when he was 3?”
I’m not even going to tell you what my son replied because it was more bullshit. But suffice it to say, the same shit came out of my mouth when I was a teenager, and I’d like to thank my mother right now for not giving me a cardboard box, a tin cup, and telling me to try my hand at being a hobo, because I am seriously moments away from doing that with my kid. “Dude, there’s a bridge around the corner. Why don’t you try your hand at living under it!”
3. I once married a man because he had a tatoo of a cartoon fox on his arm. I know, right!
4. I once divorced a man because he had the IQ of the cartoon fox tatooed on his arm.
5. Sometimes I want to quit nursing school. The only thing that keeps me in it is the fact that I have the cutest bubble gum pink hoodie with the faculty logo on it, and I like showing it off around the halls of the university.
6. I hate the sound of people chewing. Especially my husband.
When I hear him chewing, I have to stiffle an overwhelming urge to clunk him over the head with my plate…or send him to live under the bridge with the teenager.
…and…see, I can’t even come up with a seventh.
If I do think of one, I’ll add it as an addendum.