Today in Katy...er, OTTO? REBECCA BUNNYMAN? WHO AM I?
Are you all (3 or so) getting sick of me switching blogs?
Quiting one and starting another?
It's because I'm IN A SLUMP and don't do oxycontin. Or even spell it, actually. I just thought of that as my EXCUSE DU JOIR... Don't you hate people who sprinkle french and german words into their everyday bad english as if they spoke a second language though in reality they struggle with the first? I don't either. I hate fat people....just kidding!
I've copied all my posts from the Salon blog (I am Eating my Husband's Soul) to typepad and now they are ...in bad need of editing. Some of the posts are crap, and the actual formating is fucked up. PLUS: I intend to spend some time moulding it into something that goes somewhere. Because I love monkeys. I truly truly do. We went way too far down the evolution path, as far as I'm concerned. Wrong turn.
And Tata: If you know where I can get some of this barbeque sauce, I could use a new friend. Someone in the commuting/stealing area who knows how to hold her liquor and a flashlight while I Do My Work. That faithless hag Cyn Dee stood me up for the xmas holidays....because of a slight chance that a MAN would call.
How fucked up is that?
Next week I go to Denver for the week, then on to Tucson till the end of the month.
For Government work. Because I still have a job. Which leads me to:
I think I'll post back on typepad mostly (thestain) (and maybe IAEMHS, the typepad version if I get it edited) for ease. (Of getting me fired). And because fuck it. My mother dealt with it, Eric's mom can. Schadenfreude, n'est pas?.
By the way, my daughter has a cult following due to her feature writing for thestranger. I am proud. And yet, somehow I think I'm using it as another excuse to not do my own writing. If only I had another skill. Like...uh...
Hm.
Chainsaw artistry. Or being able to eat the most hot dogs.
Yeah.
Are you all (3 or so) getting sick of me switching blogs?
Quiting one and starting another?
It's because I'm IN A SLUMP and don't do oxycontin. Or even spell it, actually. I just thought of that as my EXCUSE DU JOIR... Don't you hate people who sprinkle french and german words into their everyday bad english as if they spoke a second language though in reality they struggle with the first? I don't either. I hate fat people....just kidding!
I've copied all my posts from the Salon blog (I am Eating my Husband's Soul) to typepad and now they are ...in bad need of editing. Some of the posts are crap, and the actual formating is fucked up. PLUS: I intend to spend some time moulding it into something that goes somewhere. Because I love monkeys. I truly truly do. We went way too far down the evolution path, as far as I'm concerned. Wrong turn.
And Tata: If you know where I can get some of this barbeque sauce, I could use a new friend. Someone in the commuting/stealing area who knows how to hold her liquor and a flashlight while I Do My Work. That faithless hag Cyn Dee stood me up for the xmas holidays....because of a slight chance that a MAN would call.
How fucked up is that?
Next week I go to Denver for the week, then on to Tucson till the end of the month.
For Government work. Because I still have a job. Which leads me to:
I think I'll post back on typepad mostly (thestain) (and maybe IAEMHS, the typepad version if I get it edited) for ease. (Of getting me fired). And because fuck it. My mother dealt with it, Eric's mom can. Schadenfreude, n'est pas?.
By the way, my daughter has a cult following due to her feature writing for thestranger. I am proud. And yet, somehow I think I'm using it as another excuse to not do my own writing. If only I had another skill. Like...uh...
Hm.
Chainsaw artistry. Or being able to eat the most hot dogs.
Yeah.
posted by Yahtzee at 7:02 AM
2 Comments:
I had to make a chart when my online square dance developed more dancers than the Bolshoi, but even that wasn't sufficient when people started putting felonious 2 + 2 together and I had to change partners. It was like putting all my exes in one room and expecting me to recognize their faces or something.
What, Cyndi doesn't have a cell and a Hillbilly Roaming Plan?
If you want a hand with that initial formatting cleanup, zap me a telegram.
Hot dogs are pretty much sewed up - it's like trying to be a rock star or an NFL player; too much competition. But ham, yeah, you strike me as a girl with a head for ham.
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