Methinks the blonde is starting to grow on me.  Blondes DO have more fun, right??

• Running through the airport crying because you just dropped your dog off at baggage is not flattering.  And it will make strangers' children run away from you in fear.
• Yes, it does make you an über geek that someone using proper punctuation turns you on.
• Despite your persistance in trying, you simply don't look good as a blonde - sorry, loser!
• Next time you go to swing dance class, make sure your shirt is all the way buttoned.
• When you open the door and think "GOD it smells like sewer out here" don't assume the dogs haven't been rolling in it and let them all run inside at once.
• Make reminder notes to remind yourself to read your reminder notes.
• Seriously? The blonde? Mmmm - not so much on that one.

With our upcoming out-of-state move, we made the heartbreaking realization that we needed to cut down on our menagerie. Right now we have 3 beagles, 1 jack russell and 2 cats.  We decided taking two away from the equation would be something we could manage, albeit unhappily. The two that have been with us the least amount of time will be going to new homes.  Good homes. Homes we trust.

Ranger (cat) will be one of those to go. Bo, my youngest beagle, will be the other. He is going to a home in Utah with someone I completely trust and who I will have contact with. I'm sure he'll be extremely happy to be somewhere where he is the only animal - he deserves that, I know. I wanted to do a little Bo tribute.  A tribute to my favorite poop-eater, if there is such a thing.

This is a little long, so click below if you want to read more about my Misser Bo.  (There are cute pics!!)

Bo was born on October 1, 2004.  We had just closed on our new house the day before he was born, so everyone was sleeping on the floor in the same room. Around 2am, I woke up to Moxie howling like I'd never heard - the thought of that noise still makes me go and hug her. I knew it was time.

It was the first time I'd ever witnessed anything giving birth...and it was her first time ever having anything that large and squirmy come out down there.  We looked at each other with expressions of "holy shit!" for a long time. I called the 24-hour vet and yelped at them, asking what I needed to do for her to stop making that noise.  They laughed at me.

Moxie had three puppies.  Bo was the last one to come out.  And, once they had a little less goopy all over them, they were the cutest little things ever.  Here's Bo at 1-week-old.

Bo quicky became my favorite.  He was quiet and sweet and OH-SO cute.  His brother and sister went to their homes before he even had one.  I had pretty much made up my mind that he was mine...convincing Shellie of that was another story.  One of her friends jumped in and offered to take him - I reluctantly said ok and cried when he went to his new home.

The next day, we got Bo back. The friend apparently didn't realize the little beagle would be upset and howling the first night away from his home and his momma(s) and he couldn't handle it. One night of beagle pups will drive a man insane, I tell ya. And Bo certainly worked his magic.  So, despite our attempts at finding him another home, he ended up ours mine all mine. Here he is at about 5 or 6 months:

Bo flies out tomorrow afternoon to go to his new home.  I will be fine until I reach the airport.  When I take one last look into that kennel and know I probably won't see him again?  That won't be pretty.

Bye, my sweet little boy.  Momma loves her Misser Bosey.

Everyone probably knows about the James Frey hooplah by now.  If not, let me sum it up : James Frey wrote a book called "A Million Little Pieces", a memoir of his drug addiction.  After the book being on the New York Times best seller list, it came out that he embellished and changed some facts.  It was a huge deal : he was humiliated, called a liar, and publically shamed by Oprah and her massive ego. He went from praised author to a conman.  He is being sued by readers who claim they just wasted their time.

It's been quite awhile since this story broke and it still flames me to no end. Especially the whole Oprah fiasco.  After the facts started coming out, Frey was on Larry King.  Oprah called in and defended him, saying, regardless of his embellishments, she believed the story was important and inspirational.  As soon as her flock started bleeting at her that they were upset, she threw a fit, called him a liar and whined that she was duped, and had him come back on her show so she could spit at him in front of the world.

Sick. I'm still just sick over it. And it's why I never wrote about it before.

Sure, he changed some facts. Sure he added a little here and there.  His book people KNEW it wasn't fact - he even tried to publish it as fiction - shouldn't THEY be the ones getting spanked by Oprah?

The real reason I brought this up is because of my own embellishing.  It's part of my writing - I add or remove a little, depending on what makes the story flow a little better.  I noticed it when I wrote my magazine articles the other day.  Most of it was true, but that one extra (false) sentence just tied it all together. The blog about the tornado?  All true...except maybe a few minor details (I didn't really run out and yell at the sky, people.) 

Many of my posts are a little askew.  Nothing to change the story at hand or the meaning behind it, but not everything I say is factual.  Does this make my blog a con and I should repay you all for wasting your time reading it? Do you feel duped?  Are you going to tell Queen Oprah on me?

I ask you : how important is truth? 

My new renter, 3T.  She's a beautiful 41-year-old momma who could SO easily pass for 31.  Talk about your hot bloggers!  I have this one subscribed on my bloglines, so you know she's a keeper!  Go check her out.  (And then read her blog - woot!)

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Karl, by the way, that woot was just for you. Anyone else, if you say "woot" too, go stand up for yourself over at Secondhand Tryptophan.  He's trying to talk down to us wooters, yo. 

Scream it from your roof blogtops! "WOOOOT!"   Feel free to steal this button:

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This girl has the funniest boyfriend!  And her website is dedicated to all the oddball things he says.  Silly Canadians. I love this SO very much.

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I'm in a giggly mood today, so I also just wanted to share a few blogs that make me laugh every single day. I don't think I've pimped most of these before (I try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't sound like I'm name-dropping....Kristen). Check 'em out.

Mom101, Amalah, Suburban Turmoil, Chanakin Ricesteamer, Finding Zen, Girls Gone Child (you need to find the sidebar and click on the "yo GGC rapz" - PRICELESS), Blogography (I think all my readers prolly know him...and I've pimped him before, but whatever....go.)

We at Taste The World like to insure that our readers are always safe and happy. That is why, after much preparation and wise consideration, we have put together this public service announcement for your safety and enjoyment.  As our offices were undergoing threat of tornado, we thought of you, dear blog readers, and made this step-by-step guide to twister preparation.

If, while on the internet reading your Bloglines, oblivious to any sign of danger, you hear tornado sirens begin to scream, please take these steps so you don't die like a ho.

STEP 1

Run outside and look at the sky. When you see it looks all green and scary-like, run like hell back into the house and turn on the weather reports.  When you hear the newsman say, seriously, this : "...when a tornado is barrelling down on the city of Tulsa, it's not good news," say back to the tv, "ya think?!?!" and run back outside with your camera.  When you see the sky churning like this :

...text message all your friends and tell them you might be dead soon.

STEP 2

When the storm cloud starts dropping "appendages" about 10 miles from your house and is heading right toward your area, start preparing to take cover.  Say "oh shit" when you remember you don't have a storm shelter or basement.  Find the center of your house with no windows and get that area ready.  If your house is like the Taste The World offices, clean everything out of a hall closet and pile it into the guest room.  Wonder how allllll this stuff fit into one closet:

STEP 3

After you remove everything from said closet space, wonder how the hell you're going to fit 2 people, 4 dogs and 2 cats in there.  Also, make a note to yourself that, since you've lived there, you've never once seen the bottom of this closet because the previous owners had left 392847239 gallons of paint in there.  Also notice how oh-my-GOD dirty the carpet is.  Remind yourself that, if push comes to shove, Shellie will be the one sitting on that floor.

STEP 4

Gather animals who are already freaked out by the sirens blaring.  Grab all 4 dogs and 2 cats and shut them in the hallway. Hope that dogs do not eat cats. Try to get a good picture of them under the door.

STEP 5

While the animals are killing each other in the hot hallway, run back outside with your camera, yelling to the sky, "DON'T KILL ME YET, I NEED PICTURES FOR MY BLOGGGGGGGGG!!"  Take pictures of the sky rotating above you while listening to the song of sirens. 

STEP 6

Ask Shellie (or someone else if you have no Shellie) to show your blog readers which of the clouds up there is the one that's going to soon leave you dead and bleeding. 

This concludes our PSA.  Please remember these proceedures next time your life is in danger.

Since my recent post about writing, I've been getting my ass in gear on doing the whole freelance thing. Now, keep in mind, I've never done anything before - never written one query letter, never submitted anything to a magazine, etc.  Minus small local stuff and contests entries, I'm a total newb in the writing world. Not even an attempt at anything otherwise.  With all the recent bloggers talking about going full-time freelance, it's put a fire under my butt to get a move-on.

So yesterday, I started typing for reals. I'd done my research and written my killer cover letter, etc. And, after a few of hours, I ended up writing two very different articles for two magazines that couldn't be more opposite. I was actually proud of both of them.

It just so happened that both magazines accepted submissions and completed work via email, so after patting myself on the back and doing a little Chase-horn-tooting, off they went at about 1:30am.  I went to bed all snuggly and smiling, knowing I'd just submitted my first magazine articles - something I'd been fighting myself to do for, literally, years. 

I woke up this morning and checked my email, finding a "thank you for your submission to [Magazine]! You will hear from us in 4-12 weeks."  Yay!  Something to look forward to!  I did a little dance and continued.  Another email from the other magazine - woot!  I opened it to find my very first rejection letter. 

Assuming the offices at [Other Magazine] opened at 9am, the editor checked in to work, got herself a cup of coffee, chatted about her drunken weekend, went through her emails, read my submission, and wrote a rejection letter....all in 51 minutes!  Seriously - is that a world record or something?? 

I'm thrilled with the letter, though, rejection or not.  She said she really liked the article and that it was "very well-written", but she had recently accepted another article too similar.  D'OH!  Oh well, that, to me, said "you freaking rock, chica, send me more of yo shit!"

I don't even care at this point - I'm just thrilled I'm submitting stuff and that I got a good rejection (the way I understand it, that doesn't happen too often).  I even printed it off and hung it in my workspace.

Really, though, fifty-one minutes after clocking in?  IMPRESSIVE, Ms. Editor Lady!

Which title should I take?

Shellie and I bought this house in October 2004. However, we're going to be moving to Dallas in a few months.  We're debating on if we should rent the place out or sell it. I need feedback from you guys.  Here is our situation:

Cute 1939 brick cottage. 1600 sq ft. In-ground, 18,000 gallon pool. Privacy fence. Hardwood floors. Two bedroom. One bath. (Might be putting another full bath in before we move, though.) Den & living room. Formal dining. Big kitchen. Fireplace. Built-in bar. Laundry inside. One-car garage w/new door. French doors. All-glass sunroom.

Bought the house in 2004 for $100k.  So far have put $10k - $15k into fixing it up (new fence, fixed pool stuff, gutted/rebuilt bathroom, refinished all hardwood flooring, new paint, replaced some windows, will put in new carpet in family room, etc etc etc).

The house is 3 blocks from a major private university.  With the 2 separate living areas, three students could easily live here and not annoy each other.  I would love that.  BUT I'd be afraid since it has a big pool and back yard, kids would think "PARTY PAD!" and tear up the work we've done with big keggers.  It's a quiet neighborhood. I dunno...but that's what goes through my mind.  However, I don't know if a family would rent a house for the price....why not buy, ya know?

I'd love to sell it and not have to worry about it....if anything went wrong, we'd have to fix it.  I'd need to hire a weekly pool service so I'd know it was taken care of.  I'd have to worry if they paid their rent on time, etc.  However, I'd love to have the house to stay in our names because if we even wanted to move back, we have our place already.  And, if we sold now, after only having the place for a little over a year, we'd just barely break even on the money part.

What say you readers??  Pros and cons of both, please!  Anyone ever rented our your place before?

I wish I could do like Stella is and just sell EVERYTHING and travel the world for a year. *sigh*   And, speaking of renters, my tenant is leaving us tomorrow, so go say hi before she goes, please!!

[After reading my last post]

Shellie : You put that on your blog?

Me : Yep. Sure did!

Shellie : Wow - and you didn't even embellish it.

Me [pointing at the screen] : Yeah, I kinda did. Right here.

Shellie : Oh, well you embellish all the time.  You're an embellisher.  You're just a LIAR.

Me : Yeah, well, you're a whore.

This morning as we were talking about moving in with my brother :

Shellie : You did tell him I was coming too, right?

Me : Regretfully.

Shellie : Excuse me?

Me : You heard me.

Shellie : You know, there's an elbow right. by. your. face. lady.

Me : There's also drool stains around. your. mouth.

Shellie [shrugging] : Eh, whattaya gonna do?

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not an outdoorsy kind of girl.  Not only would I rather chew my own arm off than go camping, but also that, minus planting a few herbs here and there, mmmmyeah-not-so-much on me doing yard work.  You read about my allergies - add about 30 years of being utterly lazy and a dash of being scared of insects that may buzz anywhere near me, and that's about where I stand on "wanna help me dig a hole in this here dirt?"

A couple of years ago, as I was leaving a local election poll, I drove by a run-down apartment and saw an old man mowing the little strip of grass next to his place.  He was using a walker, pushing the mower about 6 inches, then scooting up.  He looked so utterly pitiful and was taking FOR.EV.ER.  I, being the softy I am, and already being full of civic pride at that moment, decided it'd be a great gesture to humanity to pull over and help this old man mow his itty bitty piece of "yard."

I pulled up and asked if I could help him.  He grunted a "yes" at me and pulled up a lawn chair. I, in my clean, perfume-covered clothes and my new shoes, started pushing around the greasy, sputtering mower.  Every several steps, however, the old man would yell at me "YOU MISSED THAT STRIP RIGHT THERE" and "ARE YOU GONNA GET THAT SPOT YOU PASSED BY?!!?!"   I laughed it off and would re-mow the spot he imagined he kept seeing.  Now, I mowed many-a-lawn when I was younger...I know how to mow.  He just kept screaming at me, though, getting louder and more hateful with each rant.

I ended up mowing this 10x20 piece of "land" for about 45 minutes, even running out of gas and having to go buy him more.  Fine, whatever. I'd done my duty. I felt good about helping the mean old fart. 

After I was done, I thought since he looked lonely, I'd sit and have a chat with him. I found out he had no family around.  He didn't have any friends (oh, lord, I wonder why?).  I felt kinda bad for him, but the "YOU MISSED A SPOT YOU DUMB WHORE" still rang in my ears.  Ok, yeah, he didn't call me a dumb whore, but he may as well have.

As I was about to leave, he asked me, very politely, if I could come pick him up later so he could get his mail and then maybe run him by the doctor the next day.  Oh, no...that's right.  He didn't ask me. He told me quite rudely that's what I would be doing. "You need to come by here at 4:30...and you can't be late..."

Hrrmmm?  Wha?  I'm sorry, did you say you wanted a foot squarely planted in your old sack? Ok!

I've forgotten now what I told him I had to do - but I'm sure it was a winner of a line. 

"I have to, um, rescue some puppies from the medical research place tomorrow...yeah..."

"Oooh, no! I forgot that my kidneys are being removed tomorrow...I'm SO sorry!"

"Sorry, guy, I really would like to help you, but I'm going to slit my wrists as soon as I leave here."

I never went back.  Anytime I drive by that old fart's apartment, I still duck.  And I flip him off.  Is that so wrong?

I'm ready to change up Taste the World's look.  I've loved this design, but am getting a little tired of it. Time for something new!!  The lovely lady who designed this one (Chelle) just had twins, like, literally a few days ago, so I'm thinking I won't bother her with "make me a new site, dirty biotch!!!!", so I'm bothering you guys instead. 

Anyone know a designer who makes Movable Type designs?  I've found a few great designers, but haven't seen any who deal with MT.   Things I want for the new design:

• cleaner lines : it's spring...I need something open and airy
• not left justified : it didn't bother me at first, but now it drives me a little batty
• I want the comments pending page to look normal. that confuses a lot of folks
• and the search results page, too
• keeping the three-colum layout, but wanting more space in the center column
• more banner room - it's starting to look squishy
• easy navigation (this one doesn't bother me)
• not too expensive!

So yeah. That's your job, readers.  Find me a designer.  Kthxbye!

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Don't forget about my lovely renter!!

While winter totally sucks, spring su-uuh-huuuuh-fucking-ucks.

Sure, it's pretty and bloomy and 'time to open the pool'y...but it's not like I can see anything to enjoy it. Either my eyes are welded shut with allergy goop or I'm zombied out on allergy meds.  And I certainly can't stop sneezing long enough to hear any bird singing or deer mating...or whatever other wondrous stupid things happen this time of year. The only thing I hear?  Lawnmowers from satan, kicking up all the crap that makes me miserable.

Grass, trees, flowers, dogs, cats, dirt, you name it...in the spring, I have an allergy for it.

I've been meaning to get my allergy shot, but like everything else, keep putting it off or forgetting until 5:01 that I need to make the appointment.  So the last few days, beyond being PMS-moody, I've been popping zombie pills, scratching my ever-itchy forehead, sneezing about every 10 seconds (NOT an exaggeration), puffing on an inhaler, being blind because the whites of my eyes are swollen and itchy, coughing up a lung, and walking around with tissues hanging out of each nostril. By the way, did you know that if you sneeze hard enough, you fart without even realizing you had to?  At least I'm a loud sneezer. I'm just saying.

Don't you just envy Shellie?  She gets all of this.  PurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcoughcoughCOUGHrrrrrr!

Or is anyone else going through total mind meltdown right now?

I don't know if it was the feeling of the holidays, the Lost Blogs campaign, work, or what...but I just cannot get back into the swing of things.

I have been trying to catch up on all my blog-reading lately, but it seems like I just can't get a grip. I look at my Bloglines and want to cry : I see Belinda's blog has 5 unread posts as does Dr.Pants. Kristen, whose site I normally read a couple of times a day has 4 unread posts.  Same with Kevin's site. I won't even let myself think about the 45+ posts the Overheard Sites have waiting.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!

My laundry needs washing. I have a ton of things to list on eBay. I have a list of work clients that I should have called last week. I need to drop 1 tiny thing off at the dry cleaners...but I just can't do it!

What the bejeezus is going on?  Anyone else having brain-fry issues this week?

I'm beyond thrilled to find this lady. HILARIOUS!  Go check out Mama Grouch and the Creep for me.  Her post called "Anchor Head" is a friggin' riot.  Go look at the picture sequence!

By the way, this was the hardest decision yet on choosing a renter. The others are listed below:

DC Mr.Anthrope - hilarious! When I checked out his blog, I ended up reading every post up. Great stuff. Mr.Anthrope, please bid again!

Full Metal Photographer - I've seen this one around a lot and love his work. Great pictures! And he's a law student, too, something I certainly admire!

Mel's Babbles - Please tell me you'll bid again, Mel!  Mel is another great photographer. And she has 2 adorable sons that would make anyone want to snap pictures.

This is my 100th post on tastetheworld.org! 

I'm very proud of myself. And I'm constantly thrilled and shocked by the response I get here.

I've always had an "oh shit, someone is reading my writing" fear.  I've written for as long as I can remember, and won awards even in elementary school for it, but as I was growing up, my parents constantly told me that I was horrible at it and I should stop trying. 

Regardless, my writing continued - but my trepidation kept it hidden.

I'd squeaked by a couple of creative writing classes and, while those inspired me, I still was terrified about sharing my work.  During the first class, when I was about 20, I wrote a short story and shared it with the person I was dating at the time. It was neither well-received nor understood, and I was once again told that maybe I should stop wasting my time.  Since I wasn't able to have people see what I'd written (and when I did show it, I was utterly ashamed), I eventually just stopped writing.  

A writer writes, that's all there is to it.  So, of course, I was drawn to it again, and I took another writing class several years later.  Sparked by a simple character sketch assignment, my first good book idea came to life. My professor, a published author herself, was thrilled about it and offered to help me any way she could, getting an agent, writing queries, etc.

I wrote character sketches for everyone in the book, got background stories, details of chapters, research on specifics, and started writing.  And then it occurred to me...what if it sucks?  Someone would read my brilliant idea and think it just plain ol' stunk and I'd be back to feeling like shit about my writing.

I know you see the relevance here - the psychology of it.  I do too.  But isn't it amazing how your brain works?  I've had nothing but good response from everyone I've shown this work to. I've heard the "wish I would have thought of that" several times. But there is that voice, the voice of my parents, the voice of that one ex, telling me that it's a waste of everyone's time. It's so much easier to believe the bad stuff, isn't it?

So, where is my book now?  It's in a dark drawer, waiting. I peek in on it sometimes and coo my good intentions, but I always shut the drawer again.

This is the reason I started blogging to begin with. So I could write everyday again. So people could see my writing, however mundane it is right now. So I could start feeling OK about just doing it, already. You, my readers, are my therapists and my medication.  Every post gets that drawer a little further open. So, thanks for sticking around, readers. 

Now - I'm sorry you've had to read 100 posts about me.

But get over it, because there's lots more where that came from.  CHEERS!

Yahoo hosting, whom I FREAKING LOVE has eaten/distorted/partially saved/erased/mangled this post about 6 times already today.  Let's see how much more pissed off I can get.  *big sarcastic smile*  This used to be a REALLY long and pretty post, but I'll shorten it because if I do it one more time, I'll murder someone.  My PMS is full-fucking-throttle today, thanks Yahoo! 

As many of you guessed, my guest blogger was AMELIA EARHART!

Links to my guest posts:

Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5

Day 1 hints : george, charles, shop, short hair, just a girl, grease under her nails, upcoming trip, cursing first born, Anne (Morrow)

Day 2 hints : how time flies, taking the trip, make a splash, President Coolidge, grand feat, nickname

Day 3 hints : being so high up, on top of the world, whole thing up in the air, George telling her to go around the world

Day 4 hints : crashed the bird, around the globe, not returning from the flight, land, Lindbergh reveal

Day 5 hints : gas running low, Hawaii, world record, women can do anything, AE, Lindy Lady

THE WINNERS!!!!

(Based on correct guesses and in the order they were received)

FIRST PLACE - Muse  (won : $20 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com)

SECOND PLACE - Belinda (won : $15 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com)

THIRD PLACE - Chili (won : $10 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com...or a trip to Panera Bread, my treat!!)

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!

More important links:

Kevin's site, where the rules of the game are. Kevin was the mastermind behind the campaign!

Paul Davidson's site - the author of the book we've been promoting

Amazon.com, where you can order the book we've been promoting

The Lost Blogs site, where you can see samples of the book we've been promoting

Midol - because I need some badly

Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 5 - FINAL DAY 

July 5, 1937 

It's beautiful here. I think I'll stay forever.

I decided to end my life. At least, the life I knew before. With the constant attention, media hounding, George's annoyances, and the Lindbergh tradgedy, I can't handle it anymore. So I made that final call - "gas running low" - and flew toward the Hawaiian islands.  Of course, I had pleny of gas - and a plan.

This will be my last blog, as people are already reporting "sightings." God forbid anyone find this blog. George is searching for me. I won't be found. I feel bad, I do, but I have to get out of this whirlwind. I never was one for such hooplah. Now I can relax.  I've completed my goals. I've set world records. I've seen the world. I've shown that women can do anything. Now it's me time.

I must go.  There's a luau on the beach in 5.

Goodbye blog,

AE - proudly, The Lindy Lady

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This histoblogger guest post brought to you by Hawaiian Vacations and TasteTheWorld.Org.  And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs.  Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.

Overheard at dinner tonight

Guy to his friends : You know, I finally got a decent job - a job where I have a little bit of extra money in my pocket. I join a gym and start working out. I get to where I'm looking pretty good, you know?  Then I go and blow it by getting married.

Renter

The Write Stuff has a post up right now about writer's block and how to find inspiration. Check it out!

I've been tagged!

Dawn over at WriteWingBlog tagged me today.  So here it is - and my tags are at the end. Muuhaha!

Rules : 1) Write a few weird/strange/quirky things about yourself and post it in both my comments here and on your blog (if you do memes).  2) Leave a comment on their blog telling them they've been tagged.

My weird/strange/quirky things:

1. I'm terrified of balloons.

2. I have brown eyes, but when I'm REALLY angry, they turn green.

3. I'm addicted to buying books, even though I could never read as many as I buy.

4. I steal pens from anywhere I can get ahold of them (stole one at dinner tonight!).

5. If I make a list and have to mark something out, I have to make the whole list again. The same if it gets wrinkled, dirty, or if someone else writes on it.

6. I am 100% positive I'll be at least semi-famous one day.

TAGGED : Erin Belinda Kevin and Jen

I'm a bag taggee

Chili over at Don't Try This At Home tagged me, like, literally weeks ago with a cool thing.  And I never got around to putting up the thing. Chili - I'M SO SORRY!!  I'm a horrid friend.  You'll never meet me and have a Panera bread bowl with me now, huh??  *wimper*

Here is the entire explanation.  It's called The Indie Virus. It's more of a social experiment in blogging interaction than it is a meme. The point is to both spread the word on lesser-known blogs and to see how far this thing can spread.

The rules are simple. Tag one (or a hundred) smaller blogs (those not in technorati's top 100), making sure to use "The Indie Virus" as the anchor tag. Reason? Because it can be tracked by the creator easier that way. For example, I'm going to give my girl, Deb, the virus because she'll be hanging out with me in California and I might as well give her my diseases now so she gets used to them.

Deb's blog, This Is Not The Life I Pictured, is hilarious. I rarely visit her site without having to comment a hearty "LOL". Of course, she hasn't been around much lately, maybe she has tired of me already.  I'll show her.  That's why I'm giving her The Indie Virus!!! Don't mess with me. I'm infectious.

Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 4

Dear blog, I am finally going.  I am going to do it this time.

My last attempt didn't work out too well - we crashed the bird. I'm leaving again tomorrow for a trip around the globe - how very exciting!  It will be wonderous seeing the world...even more wonderous getting away from George.  I seriously should have stayed single. The partnership was not worth the agony of the feet!  Feet.  HIS FEET. 

Because of this, I have made a decision, dear blog, that you must not tell anyone.  I won't be returning home from this flight. With my sudden fame and the attention it comes with, I can't just go away and be alone.  I mean, how do I explain I divorced him because he constantly picks his toes?? Drastic measures must be taken. I can't go into details yet, but will as soon as I land.

By the way, blog, I don't hold a grudge against Charles anymore. My heart aches for his wife and him - and that poor baby. I feel terrible. It's been a couple of years and I still have nightmares. Lord, bless the Lindberghs. I regret that I hated him so.

I must pack now. I have a big journey ahead of me.

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This histoblogger guest post brought to you by The Electric Company and my beagle, Moxie. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.

Some of my favorite blog posts lately are those that tell the strange google search results that landed people on bloggers' sites.  I know a few people who have been doing this lately, so I'm jumping on that dorky bandwagon and giving you some of my best google searches. This one is for those people who found me by accident.  You're welcome.

To the "human poop eater" searcher, umm.  I don't know which is scarier, the fact you're searching for this or the fact that my site comes up and looks pertinent enough to click.

I apologize to you, "spring break boobs" searcher because I know you didn't find what you were looking for. The only boob around here is Chanakin.

There have been several hits from people looking for "women who are bitches," "crazy bitches," or "women who are psycho."  Are you people looking for a cure or a date??  Neither of those things can be found here.  Sorry!  (Shut up. All of you. Or I'll stab you.)

Yesterday, someone came here by looking for "fat turds."  Is it wrong that I really want to know what exactly they were expecting to find??  I feel dirty.

A parent's nightmare to search something innocent and end up at my blog - someone searched for my site with "my daughters going camping with boyfriend."  That would be all good, but it landed them at this post, where I talk about losing my virginity while going camping with a boy.  Oops.  Sorry mom. 

"What if the whole world farted at once?"  Yes.  What, indeed?  Perhaps we should organize this? Let me know what date you decide on...I'll eat lots of dairy. 

And, my favorite so far, searched word for word, "what do you think frogs are thinking when they are poked in the butt by curious people?"  I don't even know what to say with that one.  Just...breathe it in, people. Cherish it. 

Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 3 

So much to report, dear blog!

I did it. I am the only woman in the world who has pulled it off.  I can officially say I am now more impressive than Charles! I smile and nod at him in public, but I hope he knows I only took the trip to one-up him. He told me years ago a woman has no business being so high up, but now who's patting who on the head? Me. Patting you. Pat pat pat. 

I'm on top of the world!

In other, less thrilling news, I agreed to marry George. I know. I know. It's really more of a partnership than a marriage. We enjoy the same things. We talk about exploring the world.  We get along famously!  But, honestly, living with him, he's kind of annoying.  That thing he does with his feet makes my skin crawl.  And the snoring? Oh, the snoring!  We've only been married a little over a year, but he's getting on my last nerve.  I feel bad, I do.  I like George. I felt it was right marrying him. But I just don't know. The whole thing is up in the air right now.

That's all for now, blog.  George and I are talking tonight about where I can go next with my career.  He says around the world.  At this point, I say great, it'd be a lot easier than having to see him pick his toes one more time.

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This histoblogger guest post brought to you by : the number 13 and Campbell's Tomato Soup. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.

This isn't a guest-blogger post. More of that in the morning. I just had some links I wanted to share.

• The Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign has gained national attention, being posted on USAToday.com.  We're all famous.  We're all getting a zillion dollars.  And then there's something about churros.
• I haven't had time to mention my new renter yet!  If you do any writing, you need to check this one out. Great writer stuff! Plus, my girl Clam posts stuff there.
• From one of my new favorite blogs, Niihaus, this post had me rolling!!  You've gotta check this lady out - she's a freaking RIOT.
• I think I stole this one from Sweetney...but I'm not positive. Free online 80s arcade games!!
• Again, don't neglect my renter this week. I know it's hard with the histoblogger interruption and all. Thanks, yo.

Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 2 

I apologize it's been so long since I've written, my dear blog.  It's been almost year, now. I can't believe how time flies.

I made the trip, of course, and, thankfully, returned home safely. You can see pictures I took here and here. There wasn't much to do, though, so I slept a lot. Preparing for the trip was exhausting...I suppose next time I'll need to nap beforehand.

George and I are still close. What a great friend he is. I think he's starting to get a crush though, and that worries me. I doubt his wife would have anything nice to say about that. But I don't push. I try not to make a splash.

Did I mention I met President Coolidge??  That was interesting. He congratulated me!  Me...not Bill (who did all the work).  He certainly is none-too-pleased with me right now. I've gotten a lot of attention lately, which I suppose is great, though I don't feel I deserve it. I honestly didn't do anything amazing. Yet. Charles still has it coming. I still owe him a grand feat.

Oh, and speaking of that bastard, the nickname they've begun to call me? I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it! As if being compared to Charles wasn't bad enough, now they have to call me that? Why can't they just stick with my initials like I asked them to?

More later. George is coming over tonight. He says he has a surprise for me.

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This histoblogger guest post brought to you by : me....and that guy over there. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.

(I'm posting as Chase right now...more histoblogger in the morning)

I was the first to report on Matthew McConaughey's brother naming his child Miller Lyte (and still get a huge number of people searching for this), so let me now turn to Paula Abdul.  She is on Jay Leno right now, attempting to quash the rumors that she has a drinking problem.  As someone who hasn't watched American Idol since Ruben Studdard won (and then crashed/burned), I don't know why people say that she's a drunk...I just heard the rumor.

Obviously, she's telling the truth. I'm looking at her right now. She's not slurring, stumbling or vomiting on Jay's desk.  However, she is also just as obviously TOTALLY. STRUNG. OUT. ON. PILLS.   She called him "Conan" twice.  At first I thought it was on purpose...but I dunno.  Her speech is slow.  Her eyes are squinty. She's all but popping the meds on air.  (And might I also add her boobs are all but popping out onto her lap?)

She's not a drunk, people. Give her a little credit. She's just a popper!

**this just in**

I also heard Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay's Chris Martin have named their new baby "Moses."  I thought I'd extend that to the masses.  You're welcome. I offer nothing but the most important news.

They say they like having unusual names in their family. Honestly? I think she just wanted to be the only mother in the universe to be able to say "Apple, stop picking Moses' nose."  (or)  "No, Apple, you can't feed a rock to Moses."  (or)  "Moses, get Apple's training bra out of the freezer."

Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : Day 1  

It was lovely out tonight, so George invited me over for supper.  Unfortunately, once I got there, I found he'd also invited Charles. Charles. What a cocky little man he is. "Call me Charlie, toots" he says, patting me on the head like a child.  I refuse to call him anything but bastard.  Of course, not to his face because, oh, I'm a lady.  Just a girl.  Oh, the times we live in.  But I'll show him.  I'll show dear Charlie.

I didn't realize supper would be an occasion, so I came straight from the shop.  I just tousled my hair (isn't short hair wonderful?!), slipped on some clean clothes, and walked over there, not paying attention to the details.  Charles made it a point to snicker at the grease under my fingernails. Of course he did. It's Charlie...good ol' Charlie.

We spoke of the upcoming trip, Charles giving me pointers along the way because, apparently, he knows everything. Blah, blah, blah.  He asked if I would be bringing my lipstick along. I smiled politely but cursed his first born under my breath.  Charlie has just started courting a lady named Annie or Angela...or something.  I don't know how she stands him.  I'd like to meet her one day.

More later. I have to get up early to do some packing. I will not be bringing any LIPSTICK. Cocky bastard.

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This guest post is brought to you by the letter E...and the color blue.  And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs.  Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.

As a final reminder, everyday this week I will have a guest blogger.  This person is from our history books - and you get to tell me who it is.  There are almost 40 bloggers participating : their links are all to your right under "Lost Bloggers".  You should go check out more blogs and play; I imagine there will be some quite interesting twists to the game.  If nothing else, you'll get to see other blogs you may not have ever seen otherwise.

I initially said I wasn't going to give prizes, but I think I will.  It'll be more fun that way!  Plus, anyone who suffers through reading my blog certainly deserves something of value, don't ya think? 

I will have comments disabled on the histoblogger's posts so there won't be spoilers.  When you think you know who it is, send me an email (link under my picture) with your guess.  The first 3 correct guesses will receive prizes.  What exactly those will be I have no idea yet.  But they won't suck, mmkay?

This little ditty was originally brought to you by Kevin.  We are doing a grassroots campaign to support Pauly D and his new book, The Lost Blogs : From Jesus to Jim Morrison.   (The book can be pre-ordered here)

I may be blogging myself this week, too, but you'll be able to tell the difference between posts. I will have comments OPEN on my posts, but please don't guess the histoblogger there. 

I think that's all.  See you all tomorrow.  Please be nice to my guest this week.  She's come a long way.

Lately, I've had a few folks ask about who this Shellie person is I talk about. I just looked and saw that I've mentioned her in 13 posts, but haven't gone into detail. I'll get into why later.  First of all...here's a very unflattering picture of Shellie with my best friend, Mike.  (Shellie is the one without a beard, Pappy, because I know you'll say it.)  For some reason, they decided they were going to point at each others' boobs for this shot.  Nice maturity, there, guys.

Shellie and I met when we were 19 and sneaking into bars. We became fast friends and were buddies for 10 years. Then, one day, for whatever reason, I decided I HAD.TO. date her.  So I not-so-suavely got my flirt on.  (I'm so not that type of person normally.)  She fell for it - *evil laugh* - and we've been together for a little over 3 years.  And I honestly could NOT be happier.  She's fantastic.

And before you ask (because someone will either ask or wonder) I'm not a lesbian. I like guys too. I've dated a lot more guys than I have girls, actually.  Of course, everyone says this, but I don't like to define myself.  Lesbian? Nope. Straight? Apparently not. Bi? I freaking HATE that term because when someone hears 'bi' they think it's a trendy way to get attention for young girls.  When I'm in a relationship, I'm in it...no swapping partners (unless it's just swing dancing!) no additional people in the mix, no kissing girls just to show off, none of the things typically associated with that title.  So I refuse to claim it.

As for why I don't talk about it a lot, I personally don't like reading blogs like that.  I talk about Shellie when she fits into my yammering...I don't post for the purpose of saying "we're here, we're queer."  I'm so not into that.

I don't like when someone defines their every ounce of life with just one aspect of it.  When a lesbian only talks about being gay, it drives me nuts.  Or someone of color only talks about being whatever race they are.  Or if someone who is bi-polar only talks about being moody.  Sure, I'm ______ (whatever you want to call me), but I'm also a writer, a female, silly, a dog-owner, a coffee whore, part Cherokee, a swing dancer!, sometimes depressed, an internet addict, an amateur photographer, an abuse survivor, on a diet plan, etc etc etc. 

I'm lots of crap. And I like it that way. And I like showing all of those things.

So that's my basic run-down of Shellie.  And, for the record, she's way funnier than I am.  You guys would love her. 

OJ did it!

Ok, yeah, not that verdict.  I went to my swing class last night.  I walked in and it was a real studio - not an empty warehouse like last time.  There were mirrors on the walls, wood floors, everything I wish for in a dance studio (I don't ask for much!) The class was small, two girls, two guys. The other female was about 20 years my elder. The two boys were younger - probably mid-20s.  Everyone was super nice, not horrid dancers, and we laughed the whole time.  It was an hour of great fun, whereas last time felt like an hour of water torture.

I liked it so much, I took Hill's advice and joined the Salsa class, which starts on Thursday.  Next month? I'm getting back into tap.  I'll be a dancin' fool! 

For something totally unrelated, my brother and I had a great, very loving conversation as we were watching college softball today:

Me : I'm SO not good at sports. Did I tell you that one time I kicked the ball during a softball game?

Bro [rolling his eyes] : Uh, no.

Me : Yeah, someone hit the ball right to me and I didn't know what to do with it....so I kicked it.

Bro : Did they call you a tard?

Me : Probably worse than that. I never expected to get an athletic scholarship.  I think I just got all the brains and none of the brawn.

Bro : I think you got gypped on both ends.

Me : Bite it. But I did get the looks.

Bro [rolling his eyes] : Uhhhh. I don't think so.

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p.s. Don't forget to check out Mrs.Fortune. She's just about to move out of my rental space. So please go say hi.  She's got a funny post up right now about her fun with gmail.  I love this lady!

Have I mentioned how much I love me some Yahoo hosting?

Everything looked fine on my blog this morning.  Then just a few minutes ago, I checked and there were three of the swing dance posts.  I deleted the new two...and that deleted all my comments on the first one and left an pre-edited version up.  So I had to delete the last one and repost.  *sigh*

So if you commented on the swing post, I did see it.  It just went bye bye.

Oh, by the way, Yahoo, my kitty says hi.

First order of business is that you need to check out this post about Mrs.Fortune's life in the movie biz and her prediction of upcoming movies (all of which star the lovely, potty-mouthed, obviously very busy Samuel L. Jackson).  Hilarious!

And I'm also officially at BlogHer now. I registered, got a hotel, and booked a window seat on American Airlines. I'll be hanging out with another lovely, potty-mouthed, obviously very busy person : Deb. So if I go missing, check her suitcase for mutilated body parts.  She's already threatened me once. And you know how those Los Angeles folks are.

I have an armoire to finish cussing at putting together, have to pick up some siding, have a meeting with a client, and I have to be in court at 1:30 for the gas leak incident (yay!), so I can't do a real post right now.  I'm right there with ol' Sam and Deb...lovely, potty-mouthed and obviously very busy. More later tonight.

Shellie to a friend : ...and I know [Chase] is going to make a million dollars in her lifetime, that's a given. And it'll be from something stupid, you know, something that I'll think is worthless, but it'll work out.

Me : Wait, you think I'm going to make millions?

Shellie : Oh, of course.

Me : Sweet.  But, it'll be from something stupid?

Shellie : Yeah. It'll be something that's just really retarded, but it'll end up just taking off.

Me : Will I think it's stupid?

Shellie : Of course not, you'll have faith in it from the start.

WELL! First of all, that's probably one of the coolest compliments I've ever gotten - someone is sure I'll make millions off of one of my stupid ideas. 

Secondly, I need to start thinking of more stupid ideas!!  Because, ya know, with my superior mega-brilliance, stupid is really hard for me to pull off.  I'm way intellectually complex.  And stuff.

(heh. I said pull off.)

I took these pictures around town yesterday. Enjoy.

This campaign is called "Up With Trees."  Basically, you rent a lot of land, the city plants trees there in your or your company's name, and you do good for the environment and stuff.  That's all good and nicey nice and responsible...or whatever...but do you notice what I notice?  That's right - the 'save the trees' signs are made with wood. ALL of them are. 

I hope they're hiring spellcheckers.

Last night, Budweiser had a party. Why do we LOVE these industry parties so much? FREE BEER! We came home with an armload of these free pilsners.

A guy walked by me at one point in the night and I saw his name tag fall off. I was going to return it...until I picked it up and saw it.  What are the odds? 

This has nothing to do with anything, but just look at 'em. How could I NOT post these?

There has been a recent blogging uproar because of the 'false advertisings' of life.  I've seen how this applied to motherhood, marriage and being female in general.  I won't rehash what's been said by whom, but if you're shaking your head right now, you know what I'm talking about.  Today I'm going to break open another case of deception : losing one's virginity.

There are normally two thought patterns with girls and going all the way.  Either you were going to wait until it was with someone you love, someone who means the world to you, someone who it will be special with...or you thought like I did.  I was just about to turn 17. My closest friends had already had sex and snickered when I didn't know what they were talking about, so it was clear I needed to just get it over with. I was tired of being the girl who didn't have a clue. To me, the thought of sex was much like the thought of going to Disneyworld - it didn't appeal to me all that much, but everyone seemed to like it, so why not?

My friends were going camping with their boyfriends one night and said I should do it then. (Isn't it amazing how pre-planned this was...by other people?) I didn't have a boyfriend at the time, so I called a friend and asked him to come along. I clearly remember being on the phone with him:

Me : So...um...we're all going to the lake tonight. Wanna come with me?

R : Uhhh...ok sure. Should I bring protection?

Me : Yeah, if you want to.

R : Cool.

Easy as that - it was set. We both knew the point of the whole trip, as he wasn't the kind of friend I'd normally ask to go camping. So we set up at the lake, smoked a lot of pot, and went to our tents, my friend winking at me as I reluctantly zipped up the flap. I remember just sort of getting into it - we didn't chat about it or look at each other much. It wasn't that kind of encounter for either of us.

You hear all the rumors about what your first time will be like. It will hurt. There may be blood (oh the horror!). It will be strange at first, but pretty cool at the end. I was even literally listening for the pop, I mean, what is that about? The only thing about any of that stuff that turned out to be true? It was strange. I'm not sure if it was the pot I smoked or the utter bore that we were together, but I even had to fight to stay awake. I actually might have dozed off in there somewhere. Rock my world, indeed!  And the whole condom thing? Good god, we won't even go there.

Needless to say, I was not impressed. Of course, when my friends nudged me in the car on the way home and prodded for details, I made it sound like perfection, like we meshed so well together, like it was the greatest thing ever. They agreed and giggled, but you know in their minds they were thinking, "Really? Because my first time SUCKED." Out loud, I was ready to do it again, but in my head I was wondering how I could get out of it for another 16 years.

This is a false advertisement that nature must have implanted in us so that women will actually have sex that first time - regardless of if it's at 16 or when you're on your honeymoon. If all us women knew that the first time is one of the biggest "uhhh"s of your life, you men would be getting nothing.

I eventually did make it to Disneyworld. The lines were long and slow-moving, I was bored out of my mind, and the hype way outshined the actual experience.  All-in-all, I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised.  At least at the lake I got to get high first.

I am so very thrilled about my renter this week. I'd seen her around the blogosphere quite a bit, but somehow had missed reading her site. When I stopped over there today, my first thought was I!LOVE!HER!

Please go check out Mrs.Fortune.  She's a great writer, SO funny, and is my kindred spirit in high school nerdiness. And, guess what? She.Has.A.Beagle.  A BEAGLE (that's him...over there). If that ain't fate, I don't know what is. She has a post up right now about the torture of being that kid in school. It's great. And, Mrs.Fortune, I was a TAG girl too...we were called Enrichments. NERDS UNITE!

Secondly. And something that only slightly makes me say 'WOOHOOO' more than finding Mrs.Fortune's bid : I won $5,000.

No, not the lotto, like I'd hoped (though I did win $12 from that!). I can't talk about details since it's a lawsuit and this is public domain, but you know how debt collectors are evil beings (not you Goosie...or Mabel)?  Well, one did some bad stuff to me a couple of years ago. They lied and cheated and were just plain ol' nasty pants. Unfortunately for them, I knew the law. And they just paid me five grand, baby. THANK YOU, collectors, for being big fat turds...and thank you for paying my way to BlogHer.  Neener freaking neener.

One other thing. I was at work today, painting a lady's living room, and their phone rang. She answered and the converation went like this - you can't make this stuff up :

Mrs.D : "Hello?.....*gasp*..........*GASP!!!*....... Oh. My. GOD.......How many fingers? ALL of them?.......Oh my god.  How'd he do it, with his chainsaw??......Oh, man.  How bad is it?......They came ALL the way off??........Oh, wow.  So tell me, what color capri pants did you buy today because I got the khaki ones."

Gasp, indeed.  I hope they don't clash when they meet at the ER later.

This post is part of a monthly blog exchange, held on the first of every month. We all write on a topic (this month is New Beginnings) and post on another person's blog as a way to gain new readers and find new blogging friends. This month's participants include: Christina, Kristen, TB, Mel, Stacy, Julie, Laurie, Mabel, and Vicki. If you would like to participate, please email Kristen at kmei at yahoo dot com.

To see the New Beginnings post I wrote for today, check me out here.

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Motherhood Is My New Beginning

by Another Mommy Moment

Becoming a mom has opened my eyes to the miracles in life. Don’t roll your eyes. I’m not gonna get all spiritual on you. I just mean that since having J, I’ve learned to appreciate the little things.

The other day I was driving and stopped to watch the sunset.  The sun had been brilliant that day and in its departure, was even more beautiful.  The sky turned every shade of orange with deep streaks of red.  As the minutes marched on, the red changed to pink and then the picture vanished.  I felt a smile creep across my lips. Sometimes, when I feel the sun shine on my pale face, I arch my neck to meet its warmth. When the rain falls so lightly, as if it hates to soak my bare skin, I cup my hands and watch it slide through my fingers and dribble to the ground.

If I stop on a quiet day and look around, I can see perfection in so many things. My daughter has made this possible. The moment I saw her I knew that she was going to change my life forever. I’m not talking about sleepless nights and constant crying. Before J was born, something was missing in my life. I was just bumbling through – not really knowing where I fit in. Then, suddenly, I had a purpose. I was a MOM.

Things didn’t go so smooth at first. I was tired, confused, sad, mad, glad ~ all at the same time. There were so many times I wanted to run away and hide from my new job as mommy. But, time took care of that. I survived the first few years of newborn, infant, toddler hell.

Now I’ve entered a new phase of mommyhood ~ a new beginning, if you will. I feel more confident, more comfortable. I finally understand that I’m the one in control, not the nappy-haired blonde whose nickname is “Cookie.” She’s just a girl, a little girl who has given me the greatest gift. She has opened my eyes to the wonder in this crazy world.

I won’t always be this aware of the little things. Life will eventually interrupt. Diapers need to be changed, Play-Doh to be vacuumed up, threats to be doled out, tantrums to be weathered ~ all the fun stuff that comes along with parenting a toddler.  Still, I have a feeling my daughter will always inspire me to look deeper.

To appreciate the shimmering snow that glistens on the sidewalk on a winter afternoon.  To enjoy the colorful leaves on an autumn day.  To sit still and feel the wind run its fingers through my hair. To watch the birds take flight and flowers bloom. To just be and let the world happen around me.

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Bio:

Another Mommy Moment is my blog. Who am I? I’m just a mom fumbling through this crazy journey we call parenthood. My source of inspiration – a tiny toddler named J.