I’m still slowly finding my way out of the sludge of my months-long-hiatus on this blog. I’m not sure why it takes me so long to write a post now, but I’ve been plagued with some pretty severe writer’s block. Everything I write makes me cringe like a 14-year-old who has parents that go out of their way to embarrass them as many ways as possible. (You know, like when your mom dropped you off at school in her pajamas and didn’t bother combing her hair or putting a bra on? Damn, those years were rough.) I used to crank out posts every other day, but now I’m only managing one a week. Brain? Hello? Are you in there? Your presence is requested on the poop deck.
I don’t normally respond to blogger awards but I thought it would be fun to answer some questions, then ask you guys some. I like learning about you guys anyways, considering I spend a lot of time reading your blogs. So, answer my questions, okay? Answer them or else!
Here are questions that were asked of me by hotmessmemoir. She’s the one who nominated me. She kicks ass, so check out her blog:
You are given an unlimited amount of money by Daddy Warbucks. The only stipulation is it must be spent on a dream you’ve had. What is that dream? I’m assuming this means the money must be spent to make the dream come true? That’s what I’m going with, at least. I’m not very good at remembering dreams… but I have a recurring one where my brother is super pregnant. I’d choose that one, hands down. Why? My brother can be douchey sometimes, and it would bring me great pleasure to watch him waddle around in public munching on a turkey leg while everyone gave him dirty looks and shielded their children’s eyes. The horror!
What are you really good at? Embarrassing the people who are ballsy enough to go in public with me. It takes skill. Need some tips? Hit me up.
What have you never learned to do? Anything ‘yard’ related – like rake, mow, or anything else outside. My family was very old school growing up. The girls did the inside work while the guys did outside. I helped pull weeds for the first time last year (at the age of 28, mind you) for all of 5 minutes. Alex laughed at me the whole time because I hate to be dirty. Needless to say – that 5 minutes was long enough. Never again, I say. Never again! I can fold laundry like a champ and make an ass-kicking homemade mac-and-cheese though.
Here are my questions for y’all: (answer some, all, or be lame and sit and the corner and pick your nose and flick it at the wall. Whatever floats your boat.)
- Think of the person you dislike the most in this world. If you had the ability to force them to eat a full plate of anything you wanted, what would it be? ( I would choose a nice corn and rabbit turd salad tossed with a deliciously warm cat-piss-vinaigrette.)
- What do you have an irrational fear of? Spiders? Heights? People who pick their nose and flick it at the wall?
- You’re going out to dinner tonight – what type of restaurant are you going to? Mexican? Chinese? American? Italian?
- If you’re a blogger – do you have aspirations of writing a book at some point? (Really curious about how many bloggers have the end goal of becoming a published author or if you’re just doing it for fun.)
I like to think I’m a mature adult even though I’m 100% guilty of randomly losing my shit in laughter over things like farts and people falling down. What can I say? Sometimes it’s hard to keep your cool when farts sound like quacking ducks and when you get to witness first hand someone so engrossed in their phone that they trip over their own feet. I love to watch as their phone flies into a nearby puddle and everyone stops what they are doing and stares at them like they are their pathetic Aunt Judy who had too much to drink and wet herself on Thanksgiving last year. Everyone has a crazy family member like that. Judy never learns, does she? Damn it, Judy! For shame.
I’m the self-proclaimed queen of laughing at inappropriate times. It’s not immaturity, though, right? Maybe I just have a great sense of humor. That’s it. That’s what I’m going with.
In late June, Alex and I went on a road trip to Michigan to go to my cousin’s wedding. Honestly, I’m not close to my extended family. At all. We live far apart and I have more in common with my neighbor’s pet rabbit that eats it’s own poop than I have with the majority of them. They are nice people, though, and since we turned down the last two wedding invitations, we felt obligated to make an appearance this time. We crammed a lot of driving into a short period, and by the time the wedding ceremony rolled around… we were exhausted. I was well into the zone of being sorely overtired. When I get to that point- I have severe issues controlling myself. You know, when you’re so tired you would probably succumb to laughter even over something as lame as a popsicle-stick-joke. It’s tough for me. Really tough.
So, when the girl in the pew in front of us was audibly complaining to her mom about her tights making her underwear ride up her butt, I couldn’t help it. She was soon deep up there, digging a wedgie out for a solid minute. Fingers jammed up her butt as she danced around in place trying to get it free. I lost it. In the middle of a quiet church ceremony that was actually quite beautiful and romantic. The mood was ruined. Everyone turned and stared at me in abject horror. I could feel the death stares burning holes through my skin. It was awkward as hell. I grabbed my shit and got out of there while I still had a little self-respect left.
That was the day I came to the sad realization that I’m the Judy of my family. Not that I’ve wet myself on a holiday yet, but I’m only 29. There’s still time to accomplish that goal.
Silver lining – maybe I won’t be invited to any more weddings.
(Random note – 16 more days left until Fall! I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of it being so hot I can’t step outside without my nipples feeling like they are roasting off. Woo, hurry up, Fall!)
Am I the only one that gets seriously annoyed when they are corrected by random people online? I’m talking about the grammar police in all their unholy glory. Here in the “blogiverse,” (that word chaps my ass a little) it seems like everyone and their mother has an English degree and likes to shove it in the face of unsuspecting writers when they spot a mistake. What’s with that? Don’t you guys have something better to do with your time? Why leave a random comment that has nothing to do with a blog post solely to correct someone you don’t know? Am I missing something here?
Usually the amazing lessons from the self-appointed grammar police begin like:
“I think you meant to say…”
“Not to be rude, but…”
“My mom thinks I’m special and smart, it would be a shame not to share my knowledge…”
“I won my 8th grade spelling bee, so I’ve got the credentials to correct you…”
“I don’t get enough attention in real life, so I feel the need to make strangers feel belittled.”
News flash: nobody likes a know-it-all. You guys really are the bursting ass pimples of the internet.
Also, I totally get annoyed by terrible grammar and spelling, so I’m not completely exempt in all of this. It’s the people that go out of their way to correct it is what drives me nuts. It always seems like people do it just to pat themselves on the back for being smart.
Do you remember your parents emphasizing when you were young how necessary it was to always be honest? While, at the same time, lied day-after-day about the most important thing in your life back then? Yes, I’m talking about Santa Claus. How dare they, am I right? I remember when my classmate in first grade told me Santa was fake. My mom kept denying it, so when she asked me to get a glass of milk to leave out for Santa that night, I dumped a huge spoonful of the salt into it. That’ll show ’em to keep my happy childhood memories alive. To this day, I wonder if one of my parents actually tried it. Take that, mom & dad! Filthy liars. (Yes, I was a bitter child. Don’t judge)
I’ve been feeling guilty lately that I haven’t told anyone in my family (besides my husband) that I write a blog. I worry that it will have some sort of effect on what I write. I don’t want to be second-guessing or holding back on things I normally wouldn’t think twice about saying. Is my mom going to care that I swear on a public forum? Is my sister-in-law going to be disgusted if I post a poem dedicated to how much I love my husband’s ass? What about my dad? SEE, THESE ARE EXACTLY THE THOUGHTS I’M TRYING TO AVOID. AHH!
How have you handled sharing your blog (or not sharing it) with your family? Does it ever keep you from saying things you want? Does it cause you to have a bigger filter? Have you ever been ‘in trouble’ for what you’ve said? Isn’t Santa awesome?
I have a lot of random thoughts that I want to write about, but I can never actually form them into a legitimate blog post. I mean, I probably could, but I doubt anyone would want to read an entire post about the piece of chicken that I ate that I swear was in the shape of a cow. Yes, a cow. Unless you’re into reading that kind of stuff. Chicken in the shape of beef. Don’t say you’re not impressed. So, I figured it made more sense to combine my strange thoughts into one post. Here we go, friends…
Dessert – Last night Alex and I were having an important conversation about my extreme craving for ice cream while laying on the couch. When I yawned, one of my cats took it upon herself to sneeze in my mouth. I’m sorry to announce this, but… I might have cat-scratch-fever. Or, at the very least – Ebola. This wasn’t exactly the type of dessert I had in mind, but thanks, Pix. You’re really helping end the stereotype that cats are assholes.
Therapists – Speaking of Ebola, there’s been a recent spike in my hypochondria. My mind has escalated the common cold into the flu, which means there’s a 98% chance I’m going to die from related complications. A pulled muscle in my hip has turned into hip dysplasia and a 99% chance I’m going to need a hip replacement at the age of 29. I thought it would be a good idea to check in with my therapist to talk about it, and she gave me some pretty solid advice I wanted to share. “Blair… just calm down.” JUST CALM DOWN, GUYS. Hey, all people suffering with depression – just be happy, okay? All anxiety sufferers – don’t worry about it! Everything is good here. People with eating disorders – it’s just a cheeseburger, eat up! (You all owe me $100 for this really solid advice. This is what my therapist charges, and clearly … she’s a freakin’ genius.)
Spiders – I’m pretty sure spiders are messengers from hell. These tiny bastards are invading North Carolina and my house is under siege. We have had our home sprayed by an exterminator, yet twice this month a wolf spider has spindled down from the ceiling right in front of my face. TWICE. One time the spider was the size of a quarter. What fresh hell is this? How many of these things do I have to pop like a blueberry (while screaming, mind you) before the message is clearly sent? Stay away, evil bastards! There’s no room for you here.
Anyone know where I can get a pair of these?
May has been a great month so far. How’s yours going?
Lately I’ve realized the quality of my writing has taken a turn for the worse. Even when I know what I want to say, the words aren’t flowing out at a standard I want them to. My brain feels like its got the worst bout of constipation imaginable. We’re dealing with some really serious blockage here, guys. Adding in some extra fiber won’t do the trick this time around. (Million dollar idea – brain enemas for writers. Someone needs to invent this.) I’m chalking it up to the fact I haven’t been reading much of anything lately and I’m lacking some inspiration. Can you recommend a book to me that you’ve enjoyed or felt inspired by? Have you read a writer that has inspired you so much you’ve been able to get back in touch with your voice?
Things I like in a book:
1. High quality writing. (None of this Twilight crap that could have been written by a 16-year-old, okay? PS- I actually kind of enjoyed those books. I just think reading that right now would make my constipation even worse.)
2. I can’t do books that take awhile to get into it. If it’s too slow I’ll give up on it in the first 50 pages.
3. I like any genre as long as it’s written well, but have an affinity for humor. (I’ve read The Bloggess. I have a feeling a lot of people will recommend her books, so I’m just gonna say that now lol)
(Thanks in advance, guys. I hope I can take y’all out for a beer someday or, at the very least, share a pizza with you. Well, just a small slice. Or a bite. Pizza is important to me. Don’t judge.)