Tuesday, August 30, 2011

A Post That DOESN'T Suck

You guys remember when I wrote that crappy post that was totally unfunny?

Of course you do.  It was like three hours ago.

It turns out I didn't have to put you through the torture of that crappiness (although I'm kinda glad I did, because I received copious amounts of love and support from you guys and it was awesome and made me feel warm and fuzzy, kinda like those socks I'll be writing about), because today I have a guest poster!

Now before you think I'm the worst host in the history of guest posting hosts, I didn't forget I had a guest poster.  I actually thought I had one, and then thought they were posting tomorrow, and then I was very confused and thought maybe I entered the Twilight Zone or was in a parallel universe or something.

But lucky for me, and you guys, today is the day!  TODAY IS THE DAY!  My guest poster is here!  In order to make up for the horrible lateness in which I am posting this, I will not post another post until Thursday giving you all adequate time to read his post and ooh and ahh.

My guest poster is actually here as part of his virtual book tour.  That's right twats, I have a real life writer on my blog.  My guest is Tyler Tarver of the hilarious tylertarver.com.  Tyler describes himself as mainly a person, but also a human being.  Which, at first, made me leery of him because honestly, how can one person be both of those things?  Somehow Tyler manages to pull it off.

Did I mention Tyler is hilarious?  Because he is.  Also?  His blog sometimes makes me feel drunk in that, wow is there alcohol in this punch because I totally didn't taste it but now I can't walk straight and has anyone seen my shoe, kind of way.

That, my friends is talent.

I was so totally stoked when Tyler asked me if I'd like to be part of his book tour, partly because I want to support an awesome writer such as he (such as him?), and also because I think he is going places, like probably to Home Depot to get light bulbs and the grocery store to get food, but MAINLY because I like to leach off the fame of others.  I figure if I host a published author on my blog maybe, by osmosis or the property of transference or whatever I will become published too.

Just kidding (kind of).  Today's not about me.  It's about Tyler Tarver.  The book he wrote is called Words & Sentences.  I bought the book and, you guys, he does not disappoint.  The book is indeed filled with words and sentences.  How Tyler managed to pull off something so cutting edge I shall never know, but I'm glad he did because It.  Is.  Awesome.

So now, without further ado, heeeree'ssss Tyler!

DEAR HANSEL AND GRETEL,

Hey you 2. What’s up like a Disney movie? I’m kidding, you’re both idiots.

That was harsh, allow me to explain, or don’t, you’re both fictional. I think you both lack the mental capacity for common sense. Why? Let me break it down like K-Nex.

a) You followed a witch to her house. Unless it’s Hermione Granger, I’m not going. If it is, I’m running whilst carrying her. Sorry Amanda.

b) You left bread as your “foil proof plan”. Seriously? Ok, this was kinda a good idea, but why didn’t you just run into the woods. She’s an old witch for goodness sake. Goodness sake? What’s that.

Okay, so maybe it’s just one reason, but you still should never follow a witch into the woods. Especially if she’s a cannibal witch with high standards for meat quantities.

I had to google your name to know how to spell it. I’m looking at you Gretel.

What kinda name is that? Gretel. It sounds likes what soup turns into if you leave a little bit in the pan on the skillet and it gets really crispy, like a hard Pringle.

Have you guys ever been to a baseball game?

I doubt it, from the sound of it you have pretty neglectful parents to let you roam around in the woods with bread when you’re too stupid to not follow witches.

What do you guys do for a living?

That story is like 20 or 100 years old, so I bet you guys probably work at a gas station or are dead.

What’s it like to live in the part of heaven where stupid people live?

I’m sorry for being so mean to you guys, it just really bugs me that you were so irresponsible. I bet you’re the kind of students that say they did their homework and left it at home but really are lying and didn’t even start it.

Hansel, you seem cool.

Love,

Tyler

Ps Seriously, your parents were probably on drugs when they named you guys.

Tyler Tarver is a certain height. You can check out his website tylertarver.com, subscribe to it here, check him on Twitter @tylertarver, or just buy his brand new toilet book which he won’t shut up about titled Words&Sentences that four people have said is “funnier than sliced bread.”

That was awesome, right?  And funny!  If you didn't think it was funny you are probably dead and that makes me sad but don't worry, I'll say nice things about you at your funeral.

His book is filled with funny stories just like this!  So go buy it!

Thanks for guest posting Tyler and including me in your book tour!



I Can Totally Relate

Have you guys seen the previews for that new show?  The one with the people and the baby, you know, that guy from, um some movie.

Crap.

Hold on, I'll go look it up...

Okay, it's called Up All Night.  It has Christina Applegate and Will Arnett and a baby.

You know what I'm talking about?  It doesn't really matter if you do.  This post will be equally lame whether you know what I'm talking about or not.

It's not my fault that it will be lame.  Because the voices?  They're gone, you guys.  On any given day I have 47,000 voices running through my head.  Yes, it is loud.  But also entertaining.  And now they are gone.  And I am lonely.  And have nothing to write about.  Except how I can relate to a tv show I haven't even seen yet.

The husband and I were eating dinner, cooked by yours truly in a fit of insanity, and there was a preview for Up All Night.

The husband: I can't decide if that show's going to be funny.  I suppose if I had a baby I could relate and it would be hilarious.  Actually, if it's about how they're tired all the time, then I can totally relate.

Me: If it's about how they feel like their life is out of control, their house is always a mess, they never have time for anything, they have no balance in their life and they're tired all the time, then I can totally relate.

You know what's great about relating your out of control life to a tv show?  At the end of the day, the director says cut, and the actors abandon the out of control life they just portrayed, do a happy little jig, and scoot on home to their rich, private cook, housekeeper, nanny, personal masseuse, personal trainer life and are never tired.  I assume.  Cuz I'm in a the-grass-is-greener kind of mood.

I'll probably end up deleting this post because it's so lame.  But I guess if you're reading it, I didn't delete it.  Hahahahahaha.  That was so funny.

I'm losing it. 

Actually, I've already lost it.  I have nothing left to write about.  No funny.  No short stories.  From now on this blog will consist of me outlining the details of my sock drawer.  It probably won't be as awesome as it sounds.  Or maybe it will be.  We'll just have to wait and see.

With breath that is bated,* we shall see.

*Name the tv show that line is from and win a totally awesome prize!  If I can't keep you guys coming back with the totally awesome content that is no longer this blog, then I will have to bribe you with prizes.  And you guys know how awesome my prizes are.

P.S. Please don't unfollow me because of this crapiness.  I promise I will get my funny back.  If I have to pee my pants in public, throw myself down the stairs, molest a stranger or drug the husband so he makes out with household furniture in his sleep, I will get my funny back.


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Bacon Winners! And? I Tell Someone to Eff Off.

So yeah.  I told you all I'd announce the answers to the bacon quiz and the winners on Friday, and for many of you it's probably Saturday, which means I'm a liar.  But honestly you guys, you should know by now I don't do well with deadlines.

Yes I realize the deadline was created by me, but still.  DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH PRESSURE THAT IS?!

I apologize for the yelling, but it's kinda hard for me to hear myself right now due to this wicked awesome head-cold thing I've got going on.  Also, I think it's entirely possible I'll be giving birth to a hippopotamus later tonight.

Yeah, I'm not sure why either.  It's just this feeling I have, you know?

Anyhoudini, the answers are below and...we have a winner!  It's possible that some of you will contest me on some of the answers and to you I say, "you're probably, right."  I went to two sites to find the trivia for this quiz and did absolutely no fact checking.  It's called good journalism people, or something.  Whatever.  All I know is that you should never doubt your sources. Also?  When necessary, make stuff up.

(Correct answers are in green) (And be sure you keep reading after the quiz cuz I tell someone to EFF OFF!)

1. Bacon bits sold at supermarkets are actually vegetarian.

a. True
b. False

2. Bacon contains some vitamins and antioxidants.
a. True
b. False

3. Bacon usually comes from:
a. the butt of the pig
b. the belly of the pig
c. No animals were harmed in the making of bacon, because denial and all

Technically, b is the correct answer.  However, for those of you living in denial like me, c will also be accepted.

4. Bacon is tastiest when it is:
a. barely cooked
b. slightly rubbery
c. crunchy and crumbly

Some of you had said this is subjective, and to you I say YOU ARE WRONG! 


5. Kevin Bacon's ancestors were pig farmers and traded the first units of bacon on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange
a. True
b. False

I completely made this question up and have absolutely no idea if this is true; however, I'm guessing it's false.

6. People who don't like bacon are:
a. robots
b. aliens
c. robot aliens

I have a feeling this one that many of you will contest, so let's review the choices, shall we.  We know choice a is incorrect, because while robots may in fact like (or dislike) bacon, they are not PEOPLE.  And we all know choice c is incorrect, because robot aliens are sent to steal our bacon, so obviously, they love it.  Therefore, b is the correct answer.

But aliens aren't PEOPLE either.

Yeah...but...er...well.

Crapdammit!

Fine.  I will accept choices b and a as the correct answer.

But choice c includes robots and aliens in the answers, so by defa-

Okay, okay!  Relax.  I will accept all answers.  Honestly, take it down a notch.  It's not like there's some totally awesome prize for the winner.


Oh, wait.  YES THERE IS!

7. A micro nutrient found in pork products like bacon could actually boost the intelligence of an unborn child.
a. True
b. False

This is true according to the website I got it from.  That website may or may not be full of crap.


8. Which country consumes the most pork?
a. United States of America
b. Denmark
c. The United States of Sarcasm Goddess
d. Canada

Some of you asked if this was per capita or something else official and sciencey sounding, and I have no clue.  Honestly, people.  I just gather the information from possibly fallible or uniformed sources and tout them as fact and then either praise you or chastise you for your answer.  Duh.

9. Eating bacon makes you more awesome than The Sarcasm Goddess
a. True
b. False

This one was obvious, but hey, I had to throw in one gimme.

10. Which of the following statements is true?
a. The Sarcasm Goddess has always liked bacon, but her like turned to love when the husband made her breakfast seven years ago and proposed. The breakfast consisted of bacon cooked four different ways including a bacon quiche which contained her engagement ring.

b. The Sarcasm Goddess does like bacon but not nearly as much as everyone thinks she does. An innocent tweet months ago somehow spun out of control and now she has this incredible bacon-loving image she has to live up to, causing her insane amounts of anxiety.

c. The Sarcasm Goddess cooks in bacon in the microwave, not on the stove because when she was very little, another little girl in her grandmother's neighborhood was cooking bacon on the stove, knocked over the frying pan and was burned very badly by the grease. It was so bad the ambulance had to take the little girl to the hospital and The Sarcasm Goddess has been traumatized ever since.

It broke me heart that so many of you thought b was the correct answer.  It's like you don't even KNOW me!  *sob*


Even the husband got this one wrong.  He said, "you don't love bacon that much.  you don't eat it every day." 

"Oh really?" I said.  "I had it for lunch today and I had it for lunch yesterday.  And if we had it in the house, I'd be eating it right now."

Sadly, c is the correct answer.  I don't know what ever happened to that little girl, but I will never forget that day.  It was awful.  And so, I urge you bacon lovers, please be careful when cooking the most delicious of all the delicious foods.

And now for the winner!

We actually have a tie!  Who'da thunk that would have happened?

The winners are Kid Id and Coffee Luvin Mom!  Woo hoo!  Congratulations you crazy bacon whores.

I know you will be more than excited to claim your prize:




That's right!  It's a button!  Feel free to whore that thing all over your blog, make some t-shirts, have it blown up into a banner, make buttons, table cloths, satchels, whatever.  Go crazy.  You earned it.

I was going to make a button for all of you who participated, but you guys.  I.  Am.  So.  Lazy.

Also?  I have to go tell someone to eff off.

So today, as so dubbed by friend Just Jennifer, is Fantasy Eff Off Friday.  The instructions are to write a post about something you need to get off your chest and say "Eff Off" to that you normally can't IRL (in real life).

It will probably come as a shock to many of you that I had a really hard to time thinking of someone I wanted to tell to Eff Off.  Not because I'm a particularly violent stabby person, contrary to what some of my tweets may indicate.  But, well I'm trying out this whole "just go with it, don't worry about stupid asshats, be happy" kinda thing.

Apparently it seems to be working because, although I still encounter people every day too dumb to function, they seem to make me less stabby than normal.

However, I really wanted to support  my friend Just Jennifer on her first meme, so all day long, through my head-cold induced haze, I thought and thought about who I could tell to eff off.  And all day I was drawing a blank.  But then.  I ate lunch.  And my tooth starting hurting.  Again.  For like the twelveteenth day.

And then I knew exactly who to tell to Eff Off.   My Dentist.

I would go to the dentist for said aching tooth, but he's an asshat. And every time, EVERY TIME, I go, it costs $200.  TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS.  The first time I went he didn't even clean my teeth.

Technician: Okay, well just have a seat in this office room and the dentist will be with you shortly.

Me: Uh okay.  So um, is he going to be cleaning my teeth in here?

Technician: Oh, no, not today.  It's your first time here.  Dr.  Asshat always says he doesn't treat just the mouth, he treats the whole person.

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Technician: Didn't they tell you on the phone you'll be here for three hours?

Me: I'm sorry, I think I blacked out for a second.  Did you say three hours?

Technician: Mmm hmmm.  That's right.  He wants to get to know you first.  He wants to know where you grew up, your favorite color, all your hopes and dreams, do you have children, do you plan to have children, what's your favorite time of day, your favorite movie...

Me: Listen, I know most girls require a guy to buy them a drink and listen to tales of their childhood before he starts shoving foreign instruments in their mouth, but I'm not one of them.  At least not today.  You tell him to cut the small talk and get in there.  I got shit to do.

I know.  I should have left right then and found a new dentist.  But did I mention how supremely lazy I am?  It took me four years to make this appointment.  If I had to open the phone book again and randomly pick another dentist, I'd be 87 by the time I got my teeth cleaned.  And by then all of my teeth would have fallen out and the whole thing would have been one epic exercise in futility.

Every time I go to this guy and his supporting cast of clowns, it's never a straight forward cleaning.  They act like they're performing rocket science in my mouth.  I hate to break it to you lady, but it's a tooth brush and floss, you're not sending anyone to the moon.  I, on the other hand, will be sending your ass there if you put that goopy shit on my teeth again.  You know the stuff.  It hardens and won't come off for fourteen days and makes me talk with a lisp and drool all over myself.  Don't test me, bitch.  You come within three feet of me with that crap and I will cut you.

I can totally see why the visit costs $200, though.  The dentist spends three minutes stabbing my teeth with a metal pick and choking me with a tiny mirror like he's mining for gold in the back of my throat.  That there is a specialized skill.  You can't just find any homeless crack addict off the street to perform something that requires so much precision.

I'm pretty sure that cavity he filled two years ago wasn't even a cavity.  More like a "I need a new yacht fund."

Well you know what Dr. Asshat?  You and your yacht can go Eff Off.  I'll just let this new cavity continue to grow until it spreads and my whole face rots off.  Ha!  I showed you!

P.S.  See you next Tuesday at 2:00?  Great. (You know how terrible I am at breaking up with doctors.)  I'll be the one with the briefcase full off unmarked hundred dollar bills.

P.P.S.  Until then?  Eff off.

P.P.P.S.  I was just kidding. Please don't stab me with that tiny pickax thing.




Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The One With All the Bacon

So.  I'm sure you've all heard by now that one of Mama Kat's prompts this week is the Top Ten Reasons Bacon is Awesome.  Of course we have Mama Kat to thank for this because she is our amazing host, but we also have Carri Brown (Mommy's Little Monster) to thank because she inspired the post.  And I like to think that I inspired Carri Brown - cuz everything's always about me even when it's nothing about me - so therefore you all have me to thank for this week's awesome prompt.

You're welcome.

Okay, for serious now.  If you're my twat, then you know the amount of bacon talk on twitter borders on obscene.  So it was no surprise that a few of you were all, "hey did you see Mama Kat's prompt about bacon?"  Because honestly, if anyone has ten reason bacon is awesome it's me, right?

Umm...

Well...

You see.  Umm...Well...Me and pressure?  Well we don't get along.

Pressure?  What do you mean?  Make a list containing ten reasons bacon is awesome.  It's not that hard.

Actually, it is.  Have you noticed how I tell stories about the husband, but I've never actually written a "why I love the husband so much" post?  There's a reason for that.  You see, when I love something sooooo much, it's hard for me to put it into words.

Yes, I realize the tragedy of this.  I am a writer and the times when I need words the most, they fail me.  Combine that with the pressure to write something heart-warming, inspiring, funny, or witty about bacon, and, well, has anyone seen my anxiety meds?

I mean, honestly, what else do I have to say about bacon other than one: I love bacon, two: I eat bacon for breakfast lunch and dinner, three: I like to strip naked and roll around in bacon, four: I...wait, WHAT?!

Okay.  Here's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to take a little tiny itty bitty liberty with Mama Kat's prompt.  Hopefully she won't be pissed and stabbed me in face.  I don't know if you guys have heard or not, but twitter is violent.  Seriously, all you have to do I tweet: "I'm so pissed I'm going to stab someone" and within seconds an entire volunteer army is amassed outfitted with scissors, knives, forks, really sharp number two pencils, and ninja stars.

It's really quite inspiring.

As I was saying, I'm taking liberties.  Instead of talking about why bacon is so awesome, I'm going to give a BACON QUIZ!

I know.  You're so excited you want to pee, but please, try to control yourself.  Or don't.  It's really up to you.

Leave your answers in the comments and whoever gets the most right gets a special super de-duper totally awesome prize.  Or, you know, it might kinda suck.

Just kidding!  It'll rock your world.

Are you ready?

Here we go.

Wait!  I forgot something.  You cannot research the answers on the internets. 

How will I know if you do? 

Oh, I'll know. 

And you'll be sorry.

I'm watching you...

BACON QUIZ!
 
1. Bacon bits sold at supermarkets are actually vegetarian.
a. True
b. False

2. Bacon contains some vitamins and antioxidants.
a. True
b. False

3. Bacon usually comes from:
a. the butt of the pig
b. the belly of the pig
c. No animals were harmed in the making of bacon, because denial and all

4. Bacon is tastiest when it is:
a. barely cooked
b. slightly rubbery
c. crunchy and crumbly

5. Kevin Bacon's ancestors were pig farmers and traded the first units of bacon on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange
a. True
b. False

6. People who don't like bacon are:
a. robots
b. aliens
c. robot aliens

7. A micro nutrient found in pork products like bacon could actually boost the intelligence of an unborn child.
a. True
b. False

8. Which country consumes the most pork?
a. United States of America
b. Denmark
c. The United States of Sarcasm Goddess
d. Canada

9. Eating bacon makes you more awesome than The Sarcasm Goddess
a. True
b. False

10. Which of the following statements is true?
a. The Sarcasm Goddess has always liked bacon, but her like turned to love when the husband made her breakfast seven years ago and proposed.  The breakfast consisted of bacon cooked four different ways including a bacon quiche which contained her engagement ring.

b. The Sarcasm Goddess does like bacon but not nearly as much as everyone thinks she does.  An innocent tweet months ago somehow spun out of control and now she has this incredible bacon-loving image she has to live up to, causing her insane amounts of anxiety.

c. The Sarcasm Goddess cooks in bacon in the microwave, not on the stove because when she was very little, another little girl in her grandmother's neighborhood was cooking bacon on the stove, knocked over the frying pan and was burned very badly by the grease.  It was so bad the ambulance had to take the little girl to the hospital and The Sarcasm Goddess has be traumatized ever since.

Good luck!  The answers, the winner and the prize will be announced on Friday.

I'm Not the Only One Who Thinks I'm Awesome

Guess what time it is!!!

Sarcasm Goddess Award Show time!  I know.  It's been so long since our last show.  Normally our shows are filled with awesome drawings by yours truly, but all the animal hosts are freaking out about the impending Hurricane of Doom.

So instead I will be hosting tonight's show.

Now, these shows are supposed to be all about you, but as per usual, it's going to be mostly about me.  What can I say?  I. Am. Awesome.

Would you believe I have been given three, that's right THREE, awards since our last show.  I am perfectly prepared to brag, but first I'm going to give out a long overdue award.

I have had so much fun with blogger on twitter it should be illegal.  In fact, it probably IS illegal.  Please don't contact the authorities.  She is the lead singer of our band #VaginaShenanigans, she is a lover of bacon, she did the most fantastic robot vlog, and she's down right pure unadulterated awesomeness.  Please join me in congratulating Kristi Gilbert aka @TheRobotMommy for her amazing award.



Are you wondering how to get your very own custom award?  (Of course you are.  That award was amazing.)  It's really quite simple.  All you have to do is become a follower.  And then...well...I'm not sure what you should do next.  I used to require people to ask for one, because in doing so they were agreeing to not be offended by the award.  But that seemed a little like asking you to beg so instead I just said to mention bacon in the comments and that way I would know you want an award and were agreeing not to sue me, cry or eat your hair in response to your award.  But now, bacon is a part of every day conversation and is mentioned so often I have no idea if people are just expressing their love of bacon or telling me they want an award.

The result?  I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!  I've been seven kinds of anxious about this so basically if you are a follower and I owe you and award, lemme know.  Kay?

Now.  It's time for the Comment of the Week. You guys are making this ridiculously hard to pick a Comment of the Week.  EVERY SINGLE COMMENT makes me so happy I pee all over myself.  Honestly, do you guys read the comments?  Cuz you say the greatest stuff.  The awesomeness of my posts, which are pretty freaking awesome, pale in comparison to the awesomeness of your comments.

Since I'm so behind on the show, I'm only choosing comments from the Stop it Social Media post to the Summer Blog Social post.  The next show's Comment of the Week will be selected from the posts after Summer Blog Social.

Like I said, it's impossibly difficult to choose just one Comment of the Week.  So this week, I've asked a very special guest to choose a Comment of the Week in addition to my comment of the week.

The special guest?  The Husband.  I know.  It's exciting.

Drum roll please:

My choice for Comment of the Week goes to:
MamaMash for her comment on Mistaken Identity: What.  This seems completely normal.  I often contemplate molesting strangers on slow bloggy days.

You gotta love a fellow stranger molester.  (If you are feeling a little disturbed by this you obviously haven't read the post.  I forgive you, but GO READ IT NOW.)

And now...the Husband's choice for Comment of the Week:
Lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog's comment on Summer Blog Social: Must be a female thing.  I mentioned my junk once on twitter and lost 100 followers and had to sleep on the couch for two weeks.  Hilarious.

Now we've come to the portion of the show in which we talk about me.  Finally.  Honestly, you guys are such attention whores.

You may be tempted to stop reading - you know, cuz there's only so much reading about how awesomesauce I am before your head explodes - but don't!  Cuz one of the best things about getting an award is passing it on to someone else.  And that someone else could be you...

The first award I received is from one of my new bloggy friends Jennie of Fond of Blond.  If you are not reading her blog then there is something seriously wrong with you and I would yell at you, but I kinda just feel bad for you.  The award she gave me is..



WOOT!  Thank you so much Jennie!

The rules of the coveted Liebster: "The Liebster Blog Award is designed to bring additional recognition to those bloggers with less than 200 followers. If you receive the award, you should link back to the blogger that nominated you and nominate five more blogs. Also, don’t forget to let them know that you nominated them."

I love the concept of this award because it has to be given to bloggers of less than 200 followers.  Some of my favorite blogs have less than 200 followers, but they totally should have 200 followers cuz they are fan-freaking-tastic.  So, I am passing The Liebster on to:

1. Elise at Things That Are Not Bagels
I've mentioned this before, but Elise once saved me from being eaten by an alligator...in my dream.  Which totally counts.  I know I can always count on Elise.  Last week when I announced on twitter that I was totally pissed and going to stab someone, Elise grabbed her sharp instruments and then asked who we were stabbing.  That's true friendship friends.  Also?  I'm so totally in love with her blog.  She is witty, hilarious, and a great story teller.

2.  Yvonne at Attracted to Shiny Things
What can I say?  This chick Cracks.  My.  Ass.  Up. She raises awareness about plant rape - it happens, ya'll - and writes letters to klout for her lack of klout for #shittinginthepark.  If I ever get arrested, it'll be with this girl.

3. Suniverse at Suniverse (she's sunonymous)
The fact that she is does not have 200 followers is a crime against humanity.  Not only is she hilarious, she tells it like it is, and says things I wish I could say but don't because of my stupid self-imposed censorship.

(That's right.  This blog is the censored version of me.  Scared?  You should be.)

4. Jen at Just Jennifer
As I've said before, Jen is Just Plain Awesome.  We quickly became twitter and bloggy bff's even though one time, many many years ago she came to Florida and didn't visit me.  The fact that neither of us knew the other existed is no excuse Jen!

5. Kristi at The Robot Mommy
You guys, she's a robot!  But not an evil one.  I've mentioned above some of the reasons why she is so awesome, so it's obvious why she deserves this award.  Check out her blog, or pay the price.

The next award I received was from...Kristi at The Robot Mommy.  You guys!  I don't know if I've mentioned Kristi before - did you know she's a robot?! - but She.  Is.  Awesome.  Lookit this award she gave me. 


Jealous?  Well you should be.  Thank you, robot mama.  You're the labia to my leg warmers.  Or maybe the leg warmers to my labia.  Either way you, me, labia, leg warmers, 'nuf said.

Now, I did mention at the beginning of this show that I received THREE awards, but I think I'll save the other one for another show.  I need to go stock up on water, batteries, and of course, bacon, for Hurricane of Doom.  If you don't hear from me later in the week, assume I have perished.  In lieu of flowers, please send cash directly into my bank account.

You're welcome.

What?

BACON!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Come Find Me!

Guess what!  Guess what guess what guess what!  I'm doing a guest post today!

EEEEE!!!!!

Although this is not my first guest post, it's the first time I was directly asked to guest post, and I could not be more excited!

So where am I?  I'm chillin at Just Jennifer or as I like to call her Just Plain Awseome's blog.  Just Jennifer and I met on twitter and we quickly became bloggy BFFs.  Please travel on over to Just Jennifer's blog and say hi.  Don't worry, it's a short flight, we don't charge for baggage and the drinks are free!

And while  you're there, don't forget to check out some of Just Jennifer's posts too.  She has access to free wine.  This is a friend you want to have, people.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

It's Like High School All Over Again

In high school there were the cool kids, the popular crowd, the ones who told the rest of us how to dress, act, think and feel.

It's been ten years since those glorious angst-ridden days, and looking back I can't even remember who the cool kids were, but I can assure you, I was not one of them.

This didn't bother me because 1.) I was too clueless to realize how totally uncool I was and 2.) I had an awesome group of really great friends, many of whom I'm still really close with.

When I graduated, I was under some delusion that high school was actually over.  All the petty bullshit is finished, I (naively) thought.  For the first four post-high school years aka college, this was true.  Or maybe it wasn't.  I lived in such a tailgating, football games, parties, lounging by the pool go to class, study hard, get a degree so you can get a good job haze to know what was really going on.

And then I entered the real world, got a job, and Oh.  Mah.  Gah.  You aren't seriously telling me adults act this way!  The cattiness, the backstabbing, the gossiping, the drama.

OMGTHEDRAMA!

For the most part, I stay out if because I am mature a professional too tired to give a shit.

But as much as the workplace is just like high school with its cool kids and cliques, it is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING compared to twitter.

Just like in high school, I managed to find my crowd.  I've made some really great friends who I think are all pretty kick-ass.  I have no idea if we're the popular crowd or not, and I don't really care because we all think we're pretty awesome and we have THE BEST time together.

Although I am clueless about where I fall on the popularity scale, I still know the cool kids exist.  And those cool kids reign supreme.  Or rather, one kid.  One giant robot cool kid that reigns from the clouds and shouts down at us, telling us how (un)meaningful, (ir)relevant and (un)important we really are.

That kid is Klout.

Those of you on twitter know exactly who I'm talking about.  Those of you who don't are probably all, huh, who the hell is Klout?

And my answer to you is:

Exactly.  Who, or rather what the hell is Klout? And more importantly, where the hell does Klout get off, thinking it can tell us what topics we have "influence" about?

Klout will tell you there is an order, a system, a reason, for the manner in which they dole out the topics they deem you influential about, but DO NOT BE FOOLED.

Klout reels you in, making you think you're pretty and popular and way cooler than you really are by telling you you are influential about topics that are deeply meaningful to you.  Like bacon.  And sausage.

You spend a few weeks walking on air.  You take extra time getting ready in the morning, carefully selecting your outfit, doing your hair, plucking your unibrow and lining your lips in the perfect shade of rasberry razzle dazzle lip gloss.  You must look perfect - you're a part of the In Crowd now! 

Then, one day out of the blue Klout tells you you're influential about Hootsuite.  And you're all, "Huh?  I don't even know what Hootsuite is, yet Klout has declared I influence others to take action about, think about, dress like, look like, wanna be like Hootsuite?  Um...okay!" 

You know better than to question Klout for long, lest you fall from its good graces.  And besides, you're getting more popular by the day! 

The next thing you know Klout is telling you you're influential about children and you're like, "what a minute. children?  i don't even have children and the only thing I know about them is that they usually annoy me on airplanes."

You're starting to suspect Klout is screwing with you.  Making you believe you're pretty and popular, getting you all excited about prom. But then you show up and they dump pig's blood on you.

You really want to tell Klout to take a long walk on a short pier, but it tells you you're influential about unicorns, and well  OMG UNICORNS!  I LOVE UNICORNS!  AND NOW THE WHOLE WORLD WILL TOO BECAUSE I AM INFLUENTIAL!

You're so excited you could posivitely pee!  In fact, you do!  All over yourself.  But who cares!  UNICORNS!

Klout's talons are really in deep now.  You don't know your head from a hole in the ground, so high are you on unicorn love.  You don't realize it, but you are weak, vulnerable, proudly wearing your heart on your sleeve just waiting for someone to come by, rip it off and stomp all over it.

It's not long before that someone comes, and that someone...is Klout.  In the blink of an eye, it takes your unicorn influence away.  And your bacon influence.  And sausage.  In fact, it takes all your influence about super awesome things away and leaves you influence in used dental floss or dust mites, or bed bugs, or something equally lame and disgusting.

You are stripped of your cool kids status and sent straight to loserville.

I see it happen every day.  To good people.  To funny people.  To awesome people.  People like me and you. 

How does one recover from something like this?  How do you pick up the pieces, and the used floss, and move on with your life?

I don't know the answer to that.  I probably never will.  But what I do know is that I'm sick of seeing decent people being used and tossed aside like yesterday's garbage.  So sick, in fact, that I'm going to do something about it, and I hope you all will join me.

I'm going to de-join Klout and never utter its name in another tweet, blog or real life conversation - not that I actually talk about them in real life now, cuz that would just be weird or...lame or something. 

It may seem like a small inconsequential thing, but if we ALL do it, if we all refuse to acknowledge Klout's existence it will have no choice but to slink away, with its head hung low, never to be seen or heard from again until we all forget it even existed.

Or... we could just make fun of it, say bad stuff about it on twitter and write it letters like the one I wrote below about my good friend @carribrown being stripped of her unicorn klout.


Dear Klout,

I don't know what kind of honky-tonk crackhead outfit you're running over there, but clearly you are out of your effing mind.  Recently you stripped my vodka loving friend @carribrown of her influence in unicorns.

Are you kidding me?  Are you f*cking kidding me!

@carribrown influences me every day, EVERY DAY, about unicorns.  In fact, until Ms. Brown, I doubted the very existence of unicorns.  But thanks to her magnificent influence I not only believe they exist, I am on a quest to find one.

That's right.  I've quit my job, sold all my possessions and have embarked on the greatest journey of my life.  I have absolutely no idea where or how one goes about locating a unicorn, but I assure you, I will find one.

The road traveled will not be an easy one.  In fact, my feet are already killing me.  In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea selling my tennis shoes with great arch support.  But honestly, who knew walking 327 miles in heels would be so painful.

I probably should have kept my car too, but I didn't want to scare the unicorn away when I found it.  Unicorns are very serene animals.  They don't appreciate loud noises, but do love skittles, have an affinity for pretty colors and bop to the happy beat of Jack Johnson.

How do I know all this?

@carribrown that's how!

Thanks to @carribrown, I've not only set off on my quest to meet one of these majestic creatures, I've also started a foundation United for Unicorns that raises awareness about unicorns in the efforts to dispel all the terrible rumors about them.  You see, some people think that because unicorns are magical, they are evil.  But as @carribrown will tell you, they only use their magic for good.

Unlike you, Klout, who does not have magic, but is most definitely evil.

I'd like to think this was a mistake.  A gross oversight of the HR department.  Perhaps you were thinking of @carriebrown, as in Carrie with an E.  I don't know who she is, and she very well may not be influential about unicorns - only a very select few are - but Carrie with an E's influence should have no bearing on Carri without an E's influence on unicorns.

I'd like to believe you will recognize this injustice and restore unicorn influence to @carribrown, but I have seen how carelessly you distribute and take back your topics of influence and therefore, I have little faith you will do the right thing.

But just remember this, Klout.  What goes around, comes around.  One day, when you least expect it, you will be stripped of that which you hold most dear.  I'm not really sure what that is, but when I find out...watch out.  Seriously.  WATCH.  OUT.

Sincerely,
SG


Linking up with lovelinks! Woot!

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Note

Time for more John and Darcy.  If you need to get caught up, click here.

Also, I'm so excited to say that I've been given two bloggy awards by two awesome bloggers.  Eeeee!  I will be announcing my awards, my award givers and who I will be passing them on to soon.  But a BIG thank you to the two ladies, you know who you are, who positively made my day by thinking of me for an award!

And now, heeerrreee's John and Darcy!

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four - The Note

I usually spent seventh period study hall in the library.  Technically, I didn’t have to stay at school – the benefits of being a senior – but I wasn’t exactly eager to go home.

I grabbed a book from a cart of returns waiting to be re-shelved and went to my favorite table by the window.  I flipped open the book, but instead of reading the words on the page, I read the scribblings on the table.

Matt wuz here.
 

Amanda O’Leary class of ’08.
 

I love Hunter Davis.
 

J.B. and A.S. 4ever.

I reached into my backpack for a pen and contemplated my greatest act of rebellion.

“Hey.”  John startled me mid “D” and the result was a long streak of ink across the table.  It seemed fitting somehow, that this was the mark I would leave on Franklin High.

He sat down and flung his backpack on the table.  “Care if I do my homework here?”

I shrugged, picked up the book and scrunched low in the hard plastic chairs, pretending to read while ignoring the racehorses suddenly thundering in my chest.

John grabbed a text book and notepaper from his bag.  A loud crack of thunder made us both jump and look out the window.

“Wow, it’s really coming down,” I murmured.

“You want to go run in it?”

I looked at John, his green eyes dancing playfully.  “In the rain?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to get wet.”

“You only like getting wet if it involves skinny dipping?”  He smiled and I raised my book to cover my face, sinking lower in my chair.

“That must be a really long page.”  John said a few minutes later.

I flipped the page.

“You’re going to get a reputation of being a stalker, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”  I turned the page again.  "The dock, the picnic table, now the library.  If I go missing, you’re going to be a person of interest.”  I turned another page, the sound of the paper cutting through the air disturbed the silence like a bullet from a gun.

John laughed, warranting a look from Mrs. Hildcrest.  “What if I go missing with you?”

I dropped the book on the table in a futile effort to stall the hammering in my chest.  “Shouldn’t you be lifting weights or something right now?”

John raised his eyebrows.  “You know what I normally do during seventh period?  Who’s the stalker now?”

“I-"

“Darcy!”  I looked up to see Annabeth standing wide-eyed behind John.  Is that John Campbell? she mouthed.

Yes, I mouthed and had to suck in my cheeks to keep from laughing at John’s confused look.

He followed my eyes over his shoulder.

“Hey John!” Annabeth squealed.

“Hey…”

“Annabeth,” I supplied, rolling my eyes.

“Right.  Well, I have to go.”  John gathered his stuff and stood up.  “See you, Darcy.”  He slid a folded paper across the table, smiled at Annabeth and walked away.

“Oh Em Geee!” Annabeth collapsed in the seat John had just vacated.  “John Campbell was sitting with you.  What did he want?”

I shrugged and cupped the note, hoping she wouldn’t notice.  “Who knows?  He’s…weird.”

“Weird like how?”  Annabeth watched John walk out the door and sighed.  “Oh who cares, he’s gorgeous.”

“Annabeth!  I thought Adam was the man of your dreams.”

Annabeth wiggled in her chair.  “I really like him.  Like, really like him, but I wouldn’t go that far.
Besides even if he was the man of my dreams, John is the stuff fantasies are made of.  Do you think he looks as good naked as everyone imagines he does?” she asked, lowering her head conspiratorially.

The image of John stripping on the dock flashed through my mind, turning my cheeks to fire.  I looked down to hide my blush.  “Probably.”

Annabeth’s backpack vibrated.  She checked to make sure Mrs. Hildcrest was occupied with another student before pulling her phone out and reading the text.

She smiled and shoved her phone back in her backpack.  “Adam.  He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

“Cool. Where you going?”

“Giavanni’s .”

“Wow.”

“I know.”  Annabeth wiggled her eyebrows.  “You know what that means.”

“Umm…”

“I need to buy condoms on the way home!”

“Annabeth!” I glanced at Mrs. Hildcrest who gave me a disapproving look.  I lowered my voice.  “You’ve been dating what?  A week?  And you’re already going to sleep with him?”

“Well, no.  I mean, maybe.”

“Annabeth!”

“I’m kidding!  I just want to be prepared.  You know, just in case.”

“Just in case he accidentally ends up inside you?”

“Exactly,” Annabeth giggled.  “And you can’t just leave that stuff to the guys.  Adam’s probably had the same condom in his wallet since seventh grade.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day.  Annabeth jumped up, grabbing her backpack.  “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“See ya.  Be good.”

“I won’t,” Annabeth laughed over her shoulder.

I watched her leave and waited until the library was empty before unfolding the note from John.  I took a quick look around to ensure I was alone before reading what he wrote.

I’m going to the dock tonight.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Five Minutes

A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
-Thomas Mann

Stream of Consciousness Sunday.  Set a timer, write for five minutes.  No pausing, no pondering, no editing.  Just write.  For five minutes.  Go.

OMG OMG I have to write for five minutes.  Stream of consciousness?  Okay well, here’s what going through my consciousness right now: I don’t wanna go to work.  I don’t wanna go to work.  I need to take a shower.  And do laundry.  Dammit! It’s 11:30 on Sunday night and I need to do laundry.  Why don’t I ever plan ahead?

Maybe I can just dig through the dirty laundry and find something that doesn’t smell too dirty.
 
Ew.  What is wrong with you? 

Hey!  No judging.  This is Stream of Consciousness Sunday.

Ooh!  A tweet from @jenannhall.  Am I allowed to look at it?  Does it violate the rules of Stream of Consciousness Sunday?  Why doesn’t anyone give you a manual when they come up with these memes?!

Meme.  Is that the word?  Can I look it up so I don’t look like an idiot?  You know, cuz I definitely don’t look like one right now.  I wonder how many times I’ve written your when I meant you’re.

This is not going well.  Three minutes in and all I’ve talked about is wearing dirty laundry.  I’ve read some of the other Stream of Consciousness Sunday posts and they at least resemble something of a regular, thought-out, non-psychotic post.

Can I really post this and pass it off as a real post?

I really want to go back and read what I’ve already written.  And edit it. 

I’m pretty sure the point of this exercise was to make me a better writer.  However, I’m pretty sure it’s going to make me lose a follower or twelve.

Awesome.

Is my time up yet?

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.
-E.L. Doctorow



#SOCsunday

How it Works:

Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.

Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.

Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.

Visit our host All Things Fadra and read the other posts.

Friday, August 12, 2011

The One in Which People Will be Lining Up to Marry Me

A little while ago, one of my bloggy BFFs Elise at Things That Are Not Bagels wrote a fantastic Letter-to-My-Future Husband, Who is Late post. Not only was it a great idea for a post, it was such a fantabulous letter that you will want to marry her instantly. And that doesn't just apply to the men. All you females will be running out to get a sex change right away so you can begin your beautiful life together as man and wife.

Sex change? Really? She can't be that much of a catch.

Oh I assure you, she is. You should go read her post and then come back here to read my version of the Letter-to-Future Husband. Or read mine first and then read hers. Either way, read them both. Got it?

Good.

Now most of you know that I have a husband, affectionately referred to as the husband. So the letter I'm going to write is to him as if he wasn't the husband yet, not to some future husband after the husband, cuz I only plan on having one husband, as long as the husband doesn't one day wake up and decide he is sick of my shenanigans and kick me and my 42,000 pairs of shoes to the curb. Or leave me for a lamp.

Here we go.

Dear The Future Husband,

Hi, how are you.  Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?

Actually, it's a little hot for -

You know, what?  I'm going to skip the small talk and get straight to the awesomeness that is me, your future wife.

If you like money, don't marry me because I will spend all your hard earned dough on shoes. And dresses. Dresses I only plan on wearing once. Because there will be pictures! And I can't wear the same dress to more than one picture taking occasion. This is called being practical, a trait you will come to love most about me. Like when we plan on taking a small three day trip and I decide I can't fit all my clothes - and shoes! - in a simple carry-on. You will so enjoy watching me sit on my suitcase-big-enough-to-fit-four-small-children-and-a-litter-of-puppies as I try to close it. Just as you will be positively delighted when I can't fit everything inside and start cramming stuff into your carry-on until it weighs as much as a baby rhinoceros.

I'm sorry, did I say my practicality is what you will love most? I meant my directional skills. And I don't mean my driving directional skills. Oh heavens no! Whatever you do, DO NOT take my advice when it comes to driving to a never-before-been-there destination. No matter what direction we are actually headed, I will always think we're going north. Except for those three times throughout the history of our entire marriage when I will actually know the right way, and you will not. Of course you will not listen to me, not because experience has taught you otherwise, but because you are A MAN. We will drive twenty minutes in the wrong direction, and I will sit like a dutiful wife with my mouth closed. I will not try to convince you that you are going the wrong way; I will just wait until you realize it. At which point I will not go, "HA HA! You were wrong! I was right!" and do the happiest little dance my seat belt and the small confined space will allow. And I will totally not get out my notebook to preserve this historic incident in perpetuity.

As I was saying, you won't so much love my directional skills as they pertain to north, east, south and west, but you WILL love the way in which I take charge in every situation and direct the shit out it. "Don't cut the lemon that way, cut it like this. Did you heat up your bread? Why did you put so much mayonnaise on it? Wipe some off. Rinse the fruit before you serve it and arrange it on the plate in ROY G BIV order. Did you wash your hands?"

Some will call this micro-managing. I call it being helpful.

You're welcome.

What's that you say? You're not a good dancer? Don't worry, I will teach you. Not by taking you to ballroom dancing classes, but by making you nimble and quick on your feet in the comfort and privacy of very own home that I will never clean. You see, all those shoes that I will be buying? Well 99% of them have heels. Very high, very pointy, very spiky heals. And I will leave them all over our bedroom floor, heal tip up.  You will very quickly learn the art of walking softly, hopping deftly, and turning on a dime. Or maybe you won't, because there are too many "landmines" as you will say, to avoid, and your feet will soon develop empathy for pin cushions.

As if all this wasn't amazing enough, you will spend the majority of our marital days laughing your adorable little head off. Because I am the funniest person I know. Seriously. I. Am. Hilarious. And not just slapstick, silly funny. But smart funny. And witty. And quick on my feet when it comes to comebacks and one liners. In fact, just the other night I was watching tv and a little boy asked his father how long it takes to get to heaven.

I said, "Your whole life."

If you had been there I would have been all, "did you catch that?! i said it takes your whole life to get to heaven. good one, huh?"

And you would have said, "where did you hear that?"

And I would have said, "nowhere! i just came up with it. right now!"

And you would have been, "wow."

I could go on and on about all the reasons you will love being married to me, but I feel I should keep some things a surprise.

Speaking of surprises, I don't know about you but I plan on being married a long time. Long as in, THE REST OF OUR LIVES. Did that sound threatening? I didn't mean it to. I meant it to be a promise, one that makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over. Like a cute little kitten you snuggle and nuzzle under your chin.

What? You're allergic to cats?

Hmmm... how about a grizzly bear then.

No? Well I'm sure we'll figure something out.

What was I talking about?

Oh yes, surprises. When you're married as long as I plan on us being so, it's important to keep things new.  Fresh.  Exciting.  If not, it's likely around year fifteen we'll be "accidentally" pushing each other down stairs and poisoning each other's food.

Luckily for the both of us, I am an expert at keeping things exciting. In fact, you'll never quite know what you're going to get with me. One minute I'm happy, skipping along singing a song, the next minute I'm like a possessed velociraptor spewing venom, and the very next second I'm crying and asking you to hold me.

Oh Em Geeeeee! I'm getting excited just thinking about all the fun we're going to have playing Guess Which Emotion She'll Have Next!

I bet you are too.

*Happy sigh*  We really are going to have the the best time together.

I am greatly anticipating the day we "accidentally" bump into each other at a party in college and I drug you and throw you in the back of my trunk and force you to marry me four years later.

Until then, I'll let you get back to eating Wheat Thins and watching tv with your roommate, and I'll get back to stalking you hanging out with my friends.

Forever and always yours, no matter how much you try to break free

Your Crazy-Ass Future Wife,
Me

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The Husband's "Other Woman"

Most people think the husband is incredibly normal.  But honestly, compared to me, who isn't?

The question the husband gets most often is, "you're married to her?  have you met her?"

Some of you are probably saying, "I have a general distrust of people who are normal."  And you should.  Happy-go-lucky-I'm-not-paranoid-and-don't-think-people-are-out-to-get-me people are actually not people at all.  They're robots -alien robots - sent to earth to steal our bacon.

Fortunately the husband is not one of those robots.  I know this because of that one Very Bizarre habit he has.  A habit that wasn't always bizarre - funny yes, sometimes a little scary, but mostly funny - until That One Night.

You see the husband, he talks in his sleep.  Not incoherent mumblings, but full blown, eyes awake, looking at you, nodding back and forth, sitting up, arguing with you, talking in your sleep.

The first I'd heard of this was in college when the husband's roommate entered the dorm, the husband sat up and said, "they're on the ceiling," and laid back down and went to sleep.  The roommate left the room and slept in the hall, or a ditch, or maybe a crackhouse, all of which would have been safer than being in the same room with the husband.

The longer the husband and I are married the more...interesting the "conversations" get.

The husband usually falls asleep before me because I am a vampire and sleeping at night is against my religion.  One night I was watching TV in bed and something totally hilarious happened and I lol'd.  Literally.  L. O. L.ing.  Loudly.  The husband "woke up" and was all, "huh what's going on? what happened?"

Me: Sorry, something funny on TV.

The husband: TV?  Huh what?

Me: Yeah, the TV.  Sorry I woke you.

The husband: Why are laughing?

Now some of you may say, "he's not sleep talking. he's awake.  your laughing woke him up."

I would agree with you.  Except for his eyes.  When the husband talks in his sleep, his eyes are totally creepy.  Vacant.  Glassy.  Like he's not really there.

That was exactly how his eyes looked when we were talking, so I knew he was asleep and therefore real conversation was futile.

Me: I'm laughing at the TV.
(although now I'm kinda just laughing at him, because even though he has creepy eyes, the whole thing is fantastically funny)

The husband: Humph.

He rolls over in a huff, turning his back to me, yanking the covers with him.  He.  Is.  Pissed.  Which is freaking hysterical, cuz the husband never gets pissed.  Like ever.  So to see him pissed in his sleep?  Well, what else is there to do but laugh?

Me: What's wrong?  Why are you mad?

The husband: I'm just trying to get a straight answer.

Bahahahahahaha!  A straight answer like, the TV made me laugh?

Next time I'll try not to be so confusing, honey.

The husband had no recollection of this the next day.  He never remembers these late night conversations.

I usually try to talk to him for as long as possible to see what kind of weird stuff I can get him to say, trying my best not to laugh.  Cuz soon as I do, he starts to realize what's happening.  He knows he's saying stupid crazy shit, but can't really wake himself up and stop.  This, of course, makes him pissed.  And is the highlight of my night.

Until That Night happened.

We were staying with our friends J and P.  We went to bed really late.  We were completely exhausted, up almost 24 hours for a full day of tailgating and watching the Gators obliterate whatever team it was we played that day.

I was awoken a little while later by a strange sound.  I rolled over and saw the husband waving the bedside lamp above his head like a cowboy does a lasso.

The hell?



Suddenly he stopped swinging the lamp.

And slowly...

gingerly...

deliberately...

brought the lamp to his lips for the most gentle kiss I have ever seen.


Me: What are you doing?

The husband: Creating a Hollywood moment.

What.  The f*ck.

Okay, sure honey. Whatever you say.

I rolled over and went back to sleep, leaving the husband to his beloved lamp.

The next morning we woke up and the lamp was laying on its side, the shade on the floor, and shockingly, didn't work any more.

The husband: What happened to the lamp?

You know what eight words I never thought I'd say to the husband in the entire history of our marriage? 

"You made out with the lamp last night."

And people say I'm the weird one.

Honestly.

Liked what you read?  Of course you did!  Then hit the little follow button.  It would make me so happy to see your face there.  Don't want to wait hours upon hours for my next post?  Follow me on twitter @sarcasmgoddess and get minute by minute vagina action.  I also talk about bacon a lot.  And sausage.  It's exactly as awesome as it sounds. 

Saturday, August 6, 2011

I Has Smartness

Those of you who know me, and by know me I mean read my blog, are my bloggy BFFs or my twat, and oh yeah, know me in real life -

What's real life?

It's that thing that happens outside of twitter and your blog. 

Never heard of it, but it sounds terrifying.

Oh it is.  That's why I try to spend as little time as possible there, except when I'm hanging out with my real life BFFs.

Did you notice how that first sentence isn't even a sentence?  It's an incomplete thought.  I know this because I has smartness.

But apparently some people think I don't.

If I had finished that first sentence it would have said: Those of you who know me know that I am a highly intelligent articulate person.

We all agree with this, yes?

Yes!

Well you know who doesn't agree?  A one @jeffblakely22.

Now please believe me when I say I don't want to feud with anyone on the interwebs.  I'm a can't-we-all-just-get-along-and-eat-bacon-kinda girl.  But when I am so viciously attacked, I must respond!

Viciously attacked might be slightly overstating the incident.  But you know what they say about assumptions.  They make you an asshole.

The whole thing went down on twitter because of course it did.  Now while I do has smartness, I also have tech-tardedness so instead of inserting the conversation from twitter, I will have to retype the entire thing verbatim.

You're welcome.

Ready?  Here we go.

@sarcasmgoddess: Work sucks balls.  I am so over it.

Hours later...

@jeffblakely22: Been there.  Best escape route is a degree, no question.  Here's some info on programs/financing

Excuse me!  EXCUSE ME!  This person does not even follow me, has never spoken to me and assumes I do not have a degree!  The nerve.

Allow me to be clear, I do not think you have to have a college degree to has smartness.  I don't think you even has to has a high school degree to has smartness.  But to just assume I don't have a degree?  That's what makes me want to unleash the fury of tampon bird on his ass.  But instead I responded like the mature adult I am.

@sarcasmgoddess: I agree!  Thing is, I have a degree.  In vagina.  Do you think that's where I went wrong?

@sarcasmgoddess: I also minored in bacon and specialized in sausage. On the surface it seems the 3 are unrelated but you'd be surprised...

@sarcasmgoddess: ... At the similarities.

@sarcasmgoddess: and as I just told @SarcasminAction I am considered an expert in the field of uterus explosions.

@sarcasmgoddess: if you don't believe me about the uterus explosion thing, just ask those poor sweet women at pottery barn.

@sarcasgoddess: the incident happened over a year ago and they're still dealing with the aftermath.

@sarcasgoddess: I am also the single authority on tampon bird. Every one of my followers will agree with me.

I was going to keep going but I was afraid he was going to send the twitter police after me for harassment.

But, do you notice how he doesn't even respond?  So rude.  We're having a conversation @jeffblakely22.

I decided to do a little research on Mr. @jeffblakely22.  He follows 28 "people" some of which are:
Education Week
USA Today College
Inside Higher Ed
US News Education
Women in Higher Ed
New York Times College
The White House

I checked out every one of these websites and not one of them mentions vagina anywhere.  Not even The White House.  No wonder this country is in the midst of a debt crisis.  Don't they know vagina is the answer to everything?  And bacon.

If those are the sites he follows, I suppose I can't blame Mr. @jeffblakely22 for not appreciating the value of a degree in vagina.  I don't even think he knows what one is.  So...

I have decided to make it my personal mission to help him understand.  I mean, honestly, if we want to grow as human beings, improve as a nation, unite as a global society, we must all understand and appreciate the value of vagina.  And bacon.  And sausage.

I invite you all to join me in this effort.  Together, we will make a difference.

Linking up with lovelinks again! Have you linked up? Well, why not? Did you know you can vote for me to win lovelink? Well you can! I don't know what I win, exactly. Maybe endless supplies of bacon. Or maybe just the right to say HA! In your face! I won! But, I would never do that. #yesiwould.


Liked what you read?  Of course you did!  Then hit the little follow button.  It would make me so happy to see your face there.  Don't want to wait hours upon hours for my next post?  Follow me on twitter @sarcasmgoddess and get minute by minute vagina action.  I also talk about bacon a lot.  And sausage.  It's exactly as awesome as it sounds.

Friday, August 5, 2011

See! I *Do* Know What I'm talking About

Yesterday I participated in the #SummerBlogSocial hosted by Liz at A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog and Jessica from Four Plus An Angel.  This Social lasts for several days, but I had only intended to participate for one day, cuz honestly, after yesterday's amazing advice what more could I have to say?

I mean seriously you guys, my advice was so good.  I know you already know this, but do you realize just how good it was?  Do you?  DO YOU?!!

Well, it was so damn good I lost a follower.  That's right.  You follow the advice I gave yesterday and people will unfollow you.

Hold the phone.  Someone actually unfollowed you.  YOU?!  The Goddess of all that is awesome and sarcasm and vagina and bacon?!!

I know.  I was just as shocked as you.  I mean, seriously.  What is the world coming to if people can no longer appreciate a healthy dose of vagina and some a lot of bacon?  It's a world I don't even think I want to be a part of.

I know you all are totally outraged by this, and at first I was too.  But now?  I'm glad they're gone.  Good riddance, I say!  I have it on good authority that this person-who-is-no-longer-awesome skins kittens and slaughters puppies.  And I don't know about you guys, but that is a follower I can do without.

So today's #SummerBlogSocial advice contains only one tip, but it's an important one.

What's popular is not always right and what's right is not always popular.

In other words: Be strong!  Stand up for what you believe!  Do not cave to the pressures of non-vagina blog talk!

I believe in vagina and I will continue to write about vagina, I don't care how many followers I lose! (Unless I lose them all, in which case I'llWriteAboutWhateverYouGuysWantMeToJustPleaseComeBackAndBeMyFriend.)

In fact, I am so committed to talking about my vagina, I'm going to talk about it right now.

AND I DARE ANYONE TO UNFOLLOW ME!

Normally, when I talk about my vagina, I talk about how utterly awesome it is.  But today, I'm going to talk about the time my vagina betrayed me.

I guess technically it was my uterus that betrayed me, but they're basically the same thing.  Or not.  Whatever.  I'm not a doctor.

Now in the interest of full disclosure, this story was first told in a comment I posted on Lady Estrogen's blog the other day.  I shared it with her because she has a unique appreciation for these types of stories.  Now that it has Lady Estrogen's stamp of over-sharing approval, I am positively delighted to share it with you all.

This story takes place a long long time ago.  Like almost ten years.  The husband (who was the boyfriend at the time) and I had been dating for six months.  We were on summer break and I was staying with the husband and his family for a week.

Of course I was very concerned with making a good impression.  I cleaned up after myself, I made the bed, I helped cook dinner, and...I destroyed their plumbing.  Or rather my asshole uterus did.

You see, occasionally I get really bad P.E.R.I.O.D. cramps.  Like really bad.  You know that show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant?  Well I think it's total bullshit, cuz honestly.  How can you not know you're pregnant?

I just thought I was gainin all that weight because I eat Twinkies for breakfast lunch an dinner an I just thought all the commotion in my stomach was gas bubbles and I haven't had my period in nine months, but that's due to all the...ooh look, a Twinkie!

You know why you shouldn't call people liars and judge them and think they are stupid?  Because paybacks a bitch.  In the form of a vengeful uterus who will make you wish for death.  I've sat on the toilet, doubled in pain, screaming my head off with cramps so bad I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if I'd had one of my very own toilet babies.

Now that the stage has been set for what a jackhole my uterus can be, let's go back to my future in-laws house where my uterus decided to launch Mach 3 Bitch Mode.

The setting: The Bathroom.

More specifically: The Toilet

The characters: Yours Truly.

I was sitting on the Throne of Doom, doubled over in pain, moaning and wailing, in the worst pain of my life.  

Oh, come on.  How bad could it be?

Bad enough it made me vomit and diarrhea at the same time.

It was exactly as sexy as it sounds and to make it even better, my future in-laws had these earth friendly hey-let's-save-water toilets that would clog if you attempted to flush anything larger than a rabbit pellet.

So in addition to having it come out both ends, I had to jump up every five seconds to flush the toilet and try to sit back down before my ass exploded again. 

This went on for hours.  At times I made the husband stay in the bathroom with me.  You know, for moral support.  Vomit and diarrhea and your period all at the same time is a lot for any guy to handle, but a guy you've been dating for six months?  That's enough to make him run bolt for the hills.  But the husband?  Didn't bolt.  He stayed with me in that bathroom, and every day since then (but not, like every day in the bathroom with me, cuz that would just be awesome weird.).

Huh.  Would you look at that.  What started out as a story about the most vile thing on the planet (the person who unfollowed me) turned into good blogging advice, turned into a story about my vagina, which all turned out to be a love story.  A love story with a moral.

Which is?  If you talk about your vagina on your blog, you will never go wrong.  Trust me on this.  I have not lost just one blog follower, I've lost FOUR blog followers in the history of my blog.  Clearly I know what I'm talking about.


Liked what you read?  Of course you did!  Then hit the little follow button.  It would make me so happy to see your face there.  Don't want to wait hours upon hours for my next post?  Follow me on twitter @sarcasmgoddess and get minute by minute vagina action.  I also talk about bacon a lot.  And sausage.  It's exactly as awesome as it sounds.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Summer Blog Social

 First, let me say thank you to all who commented on my blog or twitter in response to yesterday's post.  It means so very much to me.  Thank you so much for your kind words and your support

******************

The fabulous Liz of A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog and the fantastic Jessica of Four Plus an Angel are hosting a #SummerBlogSocial for those of us devastated we're not at BlogHer '11 too awesome for BlogHer '11.  I was encouraged by some amazing people, I'm looking at you @carribrown, to link up. But I was all, "blog advice?  what kind of blog advice could I give?"  Since I started this blog 17 months ago, I'm lucky if I manage to do more than pee my pants and fall down stairs.

But it seems that all the cool kids are doing this, and I've always wanted to be one of the cool kids.  So here goes.

For those of you who are new bloggers and/or new to my blog, I am sorry for the train-wreck you are about to witness.  I'm probably going to talk about vagina and bacon a lot, but do not dismiss it all as terrible advice.  I may have figured this bloggy thing out just a little bit.  Probably not.  But I will say on June 2nd I had 37 followers.  Today, I have 164 followers.  That's like a four hundred thousand percent increase.  Or something that is less than that.  Whatever.  Blogging is about words, not math.

I''m going to share a few bloggy do's, a few bloggy don'ts, a few bloggy tips - which is probably the exact same thing as bloggy do's - and some other really awesome stuff.  Or maybe I'll just talk about my vagina and bacon.  Either way it will be awesome and you'll walk away feeling inspired.

The first thing you need to know:

YOUR BLOG WILL DEFINE YOU.  IF YOU FAIL AT BLOGGING YOU WILL FAIL AT EVERYTHING ELSE IN LIFE.

Um yeah.  That's probably not true at all.

Okay, time for the real advice.  I'm going to try not to duplicate things that others have already said, cuz quite honestly, they've said it a lot better than I ever could.

1. Link yo' shit up.  Participating in links is a great way to whore your blog and meet other bloggers.  Some of my favorites linky links ba dink a donk links (the hell?) are:

The Red Dress Club
Lady Bloggers Society
She Writes  I think you have to actually become a member to share your posts here, but it's very easy to do.
Poppy aka @funnyorsnot WTF Wednesday (one of my all time favs.)
Rach aka @donutsmama Life Lessons
Lovelinks

There are many others and please don't stab me if I forgot you.

If you're feeling particularly daring, host your own link (if you want to know how, leave me a comment and I'll break it down for you.)

2. Don't be an asshat.  When you first start blogging you will want followers so badly you may be tempted to go to a really dark place: following blogs you have no interest in reading in the hopes they will follow you back; leaving the following comment on someone else's blog "hey I'm a new follower.  follow me back"; putting guns to people's heads and forcing them to click the follow button.  These are all things that warrant a virtual throat punch.

However, feel free to guilt your friends and family into following your blog.  They should be the first to sing your praises and whore your blog and if they are not doing this then you have my permission to kick them in the knee cap.

3. Be a twat.  And by that I obviously mean, join twitter.  I know, I know.  I resisted for so long.  But it is truly the greatest thing I have ever done.  EVER.  Greater than graduating college.  Greater than learning to count by twos.  Greater than dragging my ass out of bed and going to work when I stayed up too late the night before blogging, commenting and being on the twat.

The greatest benefit of joining twitter is not the new blog followers you are guaranteed to get.

WHAT?!

The blog followers are a side benefit.  A great one indeed, but not The Best one.

The best benefit of twitter is the people.  Those real life human beings behind all those great blogs you love.  My twats are my friends.  WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT!

One of the best nights of my life was a twitter conversation involving thong onesies, labia and legwarmers with @therobotmommy and @coffeeluvinmom.  I was laughing so hard I hurt.  I've never even met these women, but we "talked" the way you talk with those friends you've known for a really really long time.  The ones who hold your hair when you're worshiping the porcelain throne.

And the night the husband was out of town and my vagina was under attack by bugs and ghosts, who was there for me?  My twats.  I never would have gotten through the night without them.

In other words, blogging is a community.  A fan-freaking-tastic community.  Of amazing people.  Ones who will laugh with you - and possibly at you - cry with you, support you, pray for you, be pissed on your behalf, encourage you, buy you bacon, and make you feel like the coolest kid in school.  I am so very truly, completely, totally, sincerely honored to be a part of such a fantabulous group.

4. Life is short, drink wine.
This one is more of a life rule than a blog rule, but wine-ing whilst blogging is encouraged.

5. Talk about your vagina.  No, really. TALK ABOUT YOUR VAGINA.  I talk about my vagina A LOT on twitter and have more than 300 twitter followers.  I talk about my vagina occasionally (although the frequency is increasing) on my blog and I have 164 followers.  This is simple math, folks.  People love the vagina.

6. Pick a blog topic, stay on topic, don't deviate lest you DIE!  Write about whatever the hell you want.  Sure, if you start a blog that's all about knitting and then never talk about knitting, you're probably not going to have many knitting followers and you're probably going to confuse a lot of potential  non-knitting followers.  "She says it's knitting blog but she talks about bacon an awful lot."

Basically, if you are interesting, if you are real, if you are YOU, people will follow.

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than write for the public and have no self." - Cyril Connolly.

7. For my last point, allow me to slightly modify a quote by Henry David Thoreau (don't worry, I totally got Mr. Thoreau's permission):  "You cannot sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."*

Thanks again to Liz of A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog and the fantastic Jessica of Four Plus an Angel for hosting the #SummerBlogSocial.


*Mr. Thoreau's quote: "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."

Liked what you read?  Of course you did!  Then hit the little follow button.  It would make me so happy to see your face there.  Don't want to wait hours upon hours for my next post?  Follow me on twitter @sarcasmgoddess and get minute by minute vagina action.  I also talk about bacon a lot.  And sausage.  It's exactly as awesome as it sounds.