Message in a Bloggle

So…er, um.

Stop stammering, and just say hello. It’s not like anyone's here.

Uh…uh…

What’s wrong with you? I told you there's no such thing as an Annual Blogger. 

Um…Happy New Year?

Really?...almost a year for that? Blogger should kick your auto-renew’s ass.

Merry Christmas?

You make me sick. Move over.

Reasons for not blogging:

Excuse #1: 

Like they let the insane have lists.  Sillies! 

So other than the crazy, hectic life-stuff, where have I been and what have I been doing?

Writing. 

Yes, like in using real commas and everything (#hatecommas). Like in actually trying to get published. Dreamer. Something I’ve always, always wanted to do. 

So far, I've written three Middle Grade books (but pretty sure the first two don't count, as they were too busy sucking the big learning-curve lollipop). I'm holding on to the whole third, fourth, fifth time's a charm thing.

...I know, poor kids! (-:

Now go on, explain about the blog... And sooo I had to step away because this blog was (and will always be) like my beautiful, shiny object that I couldn’t stop starring at long enough to get myself in gear. And you know what they say: No Gear, No Dream.  Yeah, nobody says that. Anyway, as I might have mentioned, me and Two-Things-at-a-Time never did get along very well, but I think we are becoming friends or at best, comfortable enemies (still not sure which). We shall see.

But I can pretend almost a whole year didn’t go by without me blogging about a damn thing if you can. I'm an excellent denyer. And I know you guys have some mad, look-the-other-way skillz. I’ve seen ‘em.

If nothing else, I can always make this my annual nervous-breakdown event. If it posts like a duck... 

Any excuse for a cocktail! (-:

There, was that so hard? 

Yes.

But no gear, no dream right?

xoxoxo!

The Blog Donut Hole

I have no idea what that title means other than I spelled donut wrong and if, in fact, there were a real blog donut hole I would surely be accused of falling into it.

That and I’m in the mood for a vanilla frosted with sprinkles.

But when isn’t one?

So as I type my fingers back up and over the rim of the slippery albeit non-frosted blog edge, I am amazed at all of the time that has passed since my last post.

Each day I say, today is the day I will post and the next day and the next day…. and well here I am.

Not exactly Rip Van Winkle but close.

If I were a man.

And if it's been 20 years.

Stupid details.

I knew it would be just a matter of time before I hit the keys again. I love it too much to stay away.

Similar to how men must stop whatever they are doing in order to direct a backing up car or truck.

It’s their Spielberg moment.

We direct them-they direct cars. It’s the natural order of things.

I still want that donut.

And more time to blog out with you guys.

But I had to come and post before another day went by! And I know that whether or not I’m trying not to kill someone on my daily commute or listening to the clothes talk in my closet ...you guys know that I am always thinking of you!

…There’s that and I didn’t want you to think I was dead or anything.

That would suck.

Being dead. Not you thinki…

Going now.

Xoxoxo!! (-:

A Blogger Gets the Led Out

Hey, remember when I had a blog?

I’ve missed you guys…don't make me call the Obvious Police on my first day back K?

...Anyone still out there?

Out there

Out there

Out there

Wow I look skinny

Skinny

Skinny

Skinny

Echoes can be fun yo.

Don’t worry about me; talking to myself has become a self-healing art form.

So with the exception of the madness that is my daily commuter bus ...aka, Mobile Prison, I love my new gig.

And really how wrong could it possibly be to want to take a number 2 pencil and stab the living hell out of a few inconsiderate bus riding commuters.... you know, just the ones holding the un-muted hand held devices?

Those that continue to breathe.

Only make them bleed long enough to hemorrhage and burst one of their most necessary arteries.

...To have the pleasure of watching them explode right before my very eyes...

….Ecstasy

Just sayin'

But the good news is that my new insurance covers all the new Bus Rage I can muster.

And I’m an excellent musterer btw.

I figured out that if I tell the doctors that the Bus o' Rage is a side effect of my yeast infection they have to treat me.

It could happen.

I know how to work a system people.

Ok back to the pencil killing.

Like I ever left it.

So here’s the plan-I figure if just one if us takes the hit and makes the news for vigilante Led Homicide everywhere those inconsiderate whore stains will think twice before taking out their phones to have a conversation about NOTHING thus disturbing 49 other potential Led Pencil Killing commuters at 5:30 in the morning...

come on, just one tiny stab...

Stab

Stab

Stab

I'm going to get the sharpener. Nobody try to stop me.

VIBRATE BUTTON Whore Bag!!!!! It's not just for masturbating anymore!!!!

Ahem,

sorry…

So I'm well.

How goes it by all of you?

Where Comments Go to Die

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately.

Mainly because I am a SUCKER for a Psychic.

Let me explain.

There is this one radio Psychic that goes on air every week to “filter” long-lost dead relative messages of encouragement and warning out to the listener.

I’m not sure if an actual possession takes place in the studio but in my head there are many Linda Blair antics going on behind the scenes.

(And, if you can believe it, I am even a worse driver during these radio broadcasts)

Like you could concentrate while listening to dead people.

So the Psychic begins by baiting the “311-Dead Hotline” hook with:

“I’m feeling a strong “M” coming through…Mary, Martha..Mother…do you understand?”

First caller up, and you can practically taste the willingness to believe in the listener’s voice.

“Well…. my husband’s half sister on her father’s side was Muslim”

And….I’m hooked.

MORE! MORE!!

“I’m feeling like there has been an illness lately. I feel it in the lungs and chest area. Do you understand?”

“Wow! I’ve been having the worst allergies lately!”

Close enough. I won’t nitpick.

WHAT ELSE? WHAT ELSE?

“There is a strong maternal figure coming through she’s sa….”

“OMG! IT’S MY GRANDMOTHER!!! I LOVED MY GRANDMOTHER! WHAT’S SHE SAY?”

Jeeze lady, ever even say the word coy?

“She’s making me feel that you had to make a big decision recently. Do you understand”?

Pause.

Now the caller is crying.

OMG! WHAT DECISION? WHAT DECISION?!!

Sniff…

“Well, I recently had to go on Weight Watchers because I’ve gained few pounds”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Is this what we are wasting dead people’s time with these days?

On a side sniff, I think when Chuck Woolery dies he’ll make an excellent Dead Connection host don’t you?

So after hearing this, I realized that I owed technology an apology. I’ve been cursing them quite colorfully for every comment that has disappeared after pressing the Publish Comment key when obviously…

… The dead people have been doing it all along.

Placing blame correctly is important to me.

I knew the answer was right in front of me the whole time.

And for the dead record, I also blame them for accidentally deleting this post when I was trying to edit it and having to write it all over again.

...Happy Days! A whole new source of blame for me to play with!

Am I the only Psychic sucker?

Anyone else dying to talk to dead people?

Mad Blog Scientist

I think I want to start a series of articles entitled “I’m Just Sayin'’”

I'm pretty sure I could get a lot of miles out of this one.

The thought arrived at my blog front door when I heard my Mother-in-Law telling my son that not saying "God Bless You" when someone sneezes is bad manners.

Bad manners?

Yeah, I’ve heard the ancient sneeze tale also but still never considered saying or not saying “Bless You” part of my manner repertoire.

Who cares if you sneeze?

I’m just sayin’

I don’t even care if you cough really-unless you were choking

And only then because I could finally practice that Heimlich I’ve seen so much about on posters.

So what would happen if the world stopped saying “Bless You” after a sneeze?

(cue lightening… flash of scary clowns optional)

Well you know I had to try it.

And so for one whole week whenever someone sneezed I said NOTHING.

That’s right. NOTHING!

Well you’d think I’d committed rabbit rape the way they all stared at me in my non-reflective silence.

While I waited for lightening to strike, and they waited for me to say “Bless You” I decided to burp without saying excuse me.

I figured I was on a roll.

(insert next mental check up date here)

WHAT?...NOTHING after a sneeze...

Oh my OdGay!

And did the world come to an end?

Did those little people under the stairs in Let's Scare Jessica To Death finally come and get me (because I always knew they would)

NO.

Nothing happened.

...So nobody sits with me at lunch anymore.

Screw them.

Assholes can't take a little experiment.

And don't think they'll be getting a gesundheit out of me either!

Bad manners or bad habbit?…you be the judge

Just sayin’

I feel a second series coming on very soon... (-: