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 |  Breaking the laws of blogging, one entry at a time. |
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Wanted: For repeated blog faux pas, including, but not limited to: Obsessive ranting - guilty on 92 counts. Repeatedly beating a dead horse - guilty on 17 counts. Unnecessary use of curse words - guilty on 142 counts. Boring daily recounts - guilty on 45 counts. Pointless entries - guilty on 214 counts. Contradictory statements - guilty on 72 counts. Recounting toilet actions - guilty on 15 counts. Overdramatization of insignificant things - guilty on 152 counts. Overreacting to meaningless gestures - guilty on 22 counts. Unnecessary temper tantrums - guilty on 75 counts. Cruelty towards animals, superiors, peers, and inferiors - guilty on 146 counts. Repeated bad grammar, spelling, and opinionations - guilty on 214 counts. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Do not confront directly, instead call the authorities and slowly back away. Do not provoke suspect, as she is easy to agitate. The best action to take is to smile and nod. Any other response could lead suspect to rant and rave for days without ceasing. REWARD OFFERED FOR CAPTURE Dead or alive. Offending evidence: ![Merit Badge in Journaling
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Given for penning the favorite response entry in the Follow the Leader contest with "Come Again?"](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Journaling-2180.gif) (Exhibit A) ![Merit Badge in Variety
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Because I never knew what to expect from your Follow the Leader entries, but I'm oh so glad you played!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Variety-2500.gif) (Exhibit B) (Exhibit C) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Leading entry: "Invalid Entry"  I'm sure my mother always felt like she was playing this game as my sisters and I were growing up. She'd come home from work to find a prized vase broken, every dish in the house dirty, the living room absolutely trashed. It then became a game to find out who did what, or sometimes who didn't do what they were supposed to. Nomme was blamed a lot. So was Ida Know. Also on the docket was Itwasher Nomme. With three of us, Mom had to figure out who was Nomme, who was Ida, and who was Itwasher. 1) Itwasher got sidetracked upstairs in her bedroom and forgot to do the dishes. Kimberly was playing with a ball in the hallway. Cassandra claims she was playing Nintendo in her bedroom. 2) Ida accidentally slipped and knocked the table that held Mom's vase. Nomme blamed the living room on Dad, but couldn't prove it. Melissa got grounded because she was the only one who didn't do something. 3) Mom was able to fix Kimberly's blunder with glue. She determined that all three suspects held responsibility in the biggest mess. Nomme was the only one who wasn't guilty of her own crime. My poor Mom. My head was spinning after trying to figure out which book was written, etc. I know who Detective Bobby is, though. And Mrs. Peacock. After that, I gave up, though. It's too early in the morning for that kind of thinking. I may have to try to solve it later. When the carpet cleaners have me cornered and I have nothing better to do. Written for "Invalid Item" . |
| Leading entry: "Invalid Entry" *Knock, knock.* "Who's there?" *Knock, knock.* "Who's there?" "Damnit, Mel! Can I come out of the closet, now?" Mel smirks. There are so many jokes he could make out of this. Which one would he choose? "Are you ready to admit the truth?" He could hear Melissa rolling her eyes through the door. "What is wrong with you?" "Nothing. I just want you to promise not to make her wear pink anymore, or to have her cover her mouth when she's belching. She has other things to do than brush her hair every day, and if she forgets to, it's OK for her to just turn her panties inside out and wear the clean side in." Mel's grin broadened, cracking the skin in the corners of his eyes where the permanent crease of wrinkles threatened. "You're disgusting. Doesn't she have enough male infleunce without you? For goodness sake, she might as well be swimming in testosterone." Mel could hear Melissa's forehead hitting the door. "Be careful, dear, you wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours." "I just want out of this damn closet. Now." "You forgot one small detail." Mel walked toward the closet. "For crying out loud, Mel, I'm naked and in the closet! I don't think I have any details left to bare!" Leaning against the door, Mel whispered through the crack between the frame and the door. "You forgot to say please." He let out a guffaw before turning the key to unlock the door. Melissa sighed. "Would you please let me out?" She gave a push, but Mel's weight on the door met her with resistance. "MEL! I'm serious. Let me out before I... I..." "Before you what?" Mel smirked. "You're behind a door and only I can let you out. What could you possibly do?" "I'll have her withhold sex." The door swung open before she got the last word out. Melissa walked out, naked and smirking. Written for "Invalid Item" . |
| Leading entry: "Invalid Entry" If I gave shoutouts to everyone who was participating in this contest, I probably wouldn't know what to say to more than half of them. I'm familiar with Kendra, Mary, Llaart1, Capp, Susannah, Mark, Tigger, Nikola, Elisa, Shadow, me, Kristy, Aaron, and shannon. OK. So maybe I'm familiar with more people than I thought. I tried not to cheat by looking to see what everyone else wrote, but I failed. While this is round 4 for shannon, I was incredibly lucky to have caught FtL with an opening for the first time a couple of days ago. I entered with reckless abandon, like someone who does things on the spur of the moment without considering what it might mean. I opened shannon's leading entry and smiled as she wrote each of us a personal message. Then I froze. I've never been very good at on-the-spot things. We can apparently now add writing journal entries in response to someone else because I'm supposed to to the list of things I can't do on-the-spot. shannon thinks I'm special, but she can't tell me why because it's a secret. That makes me giggle. I like being secretly special. The only unfortunate thing to that secret, is that I really don't have a clue. Maybe she was just trying to make me feel better at having nothing special to say about me. Don't worry, shannon, if that's the case, I'm fine with that. I like being unnotable and normal. I cheated by looking at Kendra's entry. She did her's on baring her soul. I didn't read all of it, because I felt guilty. Like I said, though, I've never done this, so I had to figure out a way to guage what I wanted to say. I guess in my own way, I've bared my soul, too. But not enough, so here's a list of a few other secrets: I'm always unsure of myself. I consider myself high-maintenance. Jason constantly has to reassure about everything. I beat myself up over the stupidest mistakes. I envy people who can do things better than me. Sometimes I catch myself trying to be someone else. Some days, I forget to take a shower. I have a nervous habit of chewing the skin off the inside of my mouth. OK. That's enough for baring my soul. I've spilled my secrets. Now I wonder if shannon will spill hers. Written for "Invalid Item" |
| If I were going to fake a detail of my life, I'd at least make it intricate enough so that nobody could figure out it was a flat out lie. I'd embellish it, too. I am, afterall, a wannabe storyteller. If I couldn't even stretch the truth enough that people aren't able to figure it out, then that must say a lot for my writing. Besides, I'm not all into making up crap about my life. I have a hard enough time dealing with the stuff that's real. If I had to try to keep up with which lie I've told, I'd be in a constant state of crossed eyes and pigeoned toes.  |
| Woohoo! I met Paul Dooley, who was in Runaway Bride with Julia Roberts, who was in Flatliners with Kevin Bacon. I know Kevin Bacon through 4 degrees of separation. LOL. Thanks, darkin. I spent an hour that I could have been scrapbooking trying to figure it out. LOL. |
| Eek! I have a job interview next Tuesday with the school district. I'm already nervous, and I just scheduled it. Wish me luck! |
| Vodka is easier to chug, whether mixed or straight up, than it is to sip. Motherfucking sour apple martinis. Now I have this whole bottle of mix and after 2 different tries, it still tastes like piss in a glass. I thought maybe it was the way I mixed it, so I had J do it for me this time. Nope, it still tastes like piss in a glass. I'll stick to mudslides and white russians, thanks. Sour apple martinis just aren't for me. |
| Damn it. I had a good, sarcastic blog entry. I fucked it up by hitting backspace to fix a typo and screwed up because it sent my browser backwards in time, instead. But we'll give it another try. I guess I suck at computers and I shouldn't do it because I suck so bad. I'll never get better with practice, so what's the point? Nobody should ever try to do anything more than once if, the first time they try, they suck at it. You'll never get better. Ever. You're only allowed to do things that you're prodigal at because it just isn't possible to improve in skill with practice. I was always an award winning musician since I started playing in the second grade. In fact, I was so good that practicing only made me play worse. And even though I haven't played since I was 19 years old, I will be able to pick my instrument up and play like I did the last time I had played, which is when I won a 1 at a solo and ensemble competition. If you can't draw a circle, you just shouldn't try to draw circles. Because your hand will never figure out how to draw a circle. And someone else will always be better at drawing a circle than you are. So what's the point? Don't mind me. I just have a superiority complex today. It'll pass with my next trip to the toilet. |
| I'm selling all of my Creative Memories stock from my period as a consultant. Some auctions, some buy-it-now. Lots and single units for sale. More to be added as I have time! About 30 auctions total. Check it out: http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQfgtpZ1QQfrppZ25QQsassZsmylingyrl |
| Is it really already the middle of September? Where have the past couple of months gone? It feels like it should be sometime in the middle of July time-wise, but weather-wise it feels like it's already October. What have I been doing with my time to make it go by so fast? I guess slipping off into a funk doesn't help, nor does becoming so busy with trying to get my own business off the ground. Lucky for me, the fog seems to be lifting funk-wise, although the business thing is kind of lagging and not going as fast as I'd like it to. Since patience isn't one of my virtues, having the discipline to keep myself going slow enough to be OK with it is not easy. Ethan, at 18-months old, seems to be physically ahead of the curve. His vocabulary is average, I guess, but it's hard to get him to settle down to work on it. He can do sommersaults, climb stairs, climb ladders, climb up onto the couch, run, kind-of jump, paddle and kick in the swimming pool, and spin circles in the middle of the floor. Getting him to say please and thank you, or even milk and food, is another story. We read dozens of books throughout the week, his favorites being Fox in Socks, Green Eggs and Ham, The Little Engine That Could, and One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish along with a couple of others that feature the Backyardigans and some nursery rhymes. He says "socks" very clearly, thanks to Dr. Suess, but trying to get him to say "please" when he wants a bite of my orange is like asking him to pull one of his teeth out of his head. I was excited when, last week, he pointed to himself and said, "Poop." I checked his diaper, and sure enough he had pooped. He's failed to do it since then, though, which is as disappointing as it is confusing. Someone suggested that I let him watch another half-hour of TV per day, choosing a show that includes lots of interaction between people, to encourage him to talk more. I don't know if that's his problem. I mean, he does talk. My son isn't mute. He just doesn't talk when I want him to. And it's not that he doesn't know what things are. He points to his belly button, nose, and mouth. For some reason, he forgets ears and eyes. He knows red, blue, yellow, and orange. He knows what a square is, what a truck is, what a car is, what a ball is (although everything round to him is a ball, but I can see how that's confusing), what a chair is, and on and on. Several times, he's bursted out with phrases: "She good kitty, Dad." "Ooooh! Pretty flower!" "What is that?" "Where Daddy?" "Mommy, stop it." "Bad doggy!" "Momma, 'side!" (Meaning 'let's go outside, Mom!') So what am I doing wrong that discourages him from talking? I don't understand why, when I encourage him to tell me what he wants, that he doesn't do so. He has gotten to the point where he answers yes or no to questions, but only when I really coax it out of him. Me: "Are you hungry?" E: "Hmmm?" Me: "Do you want lunch?" E: "Hmmm?" Me: "Do you want to eat?" E: "Mmmmhmmmm." I don't mind doing that. Its when I ask him if he wants something to drink or when he obviously wants a bite of my fruit and I want him to say please (which I know he can say because he's said it under duress of really wanting a bite of my fruit) that he won't do it. I know it's normal, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating when I know he can do something but he doesn't out of pure stubbornness. Or maybe it's just that I'm desperate to actually have a conversation, in English, with my son. I don't mind pretending to know what his Ethanese means, but after a while I start to feel like everything I say is in Ethanese, too. That, and this is my first time ever doing this parent thing, so I don't know what to expect. Hell, half of the time I think that I must be doing everything wrong and Ethan's turning out fine despite me. Seriously, babysitting when you're a teenager does not prepare you for parenting scenarios. PS - I made some changes to my blog format yesterday. I hope you like the new title, header, and introduction. I thought it fit me more than the girly-girly thing, anyway.  |
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Whatever you do, hang in there, he'll be sleeping like a big boy in no time!