Shush.Walk in here very quietly. Don’t turn on the lights. Grab that candle over there and don’t bump into anything while you’re looking around here. Whatever you do, don’t push the home button at the top because you will wake the evil purse people who took over this blog.
What happened? Okay, well, around March, I let my Url lapse. I thought I bought that bitch once and it was mine forever. Turns out, I don’t read fine print because I’m really lazy and no. I have to buy it every year. Huh. Who knew?
Apparently, it’s a “thing” for weird, troll purse and watch and sunglass sellers (with very bad grammar) to buy lapsed urls (domain names. The www dot thinga-ma-boobers.) and put their own horse shit up on your page. Their hope is that you will be completely devastated (I was) and will buy back your domain at a hugely inflated price. Dirty trick, right? So my response to that idea was “Fuck, no!” Hence my absence.
But I may have found a way to get this all back. I may be back. I may have climbed out of the dark, sticky hole that having my blog hijacked by knock-off purse sellers left me in. And god, I hope so. I have so much to tell you! This whole ‘I-have-to-talk-to-my-family-because-I-don’t-have-a-blog-thing’ has been really sucky.
Let me know if this shows up and is readable. And quick PSA:
*Read the fine print on EVERYTHING! Don’t be an asshole like me because the internet is a cold, cutthroat place where everyone is out to screw you (except that it’s wonderful and makes me warm and fuzzy because kitten pictures!). And know this: Anyone who sells purse/watches/sunglasses/leaky prophylactics/penile enlargements or any other such nonsense is not me and comes straight from Satan’s outhouse.*
Extra quick PSA:
*Satan’s Outhouse sounds like a good name for a band, doesn’t it? Please feel free to use it.*
You recently sent me an email asking if I would be interested in doing some columns for you which got me very excited as I’m completely flattered whenever anyone reads me, let alone when someone thinks my writing is worth sharing with anyone else, especially on a professional level because hey, let’s be honest, I’m no pro and if you read closely you’ll likely find spelling and grammar errors, flow problems (Ha! Flow! Sounds like my period) and realistically, most of what I talk or write about is absolute nonsensical bullshit (I should trademark that phrase) and half the time, I write these things in under 15 minutes and don’t proofread or edit, anyway, as I said, I got excited, so I reached for some chocolate because, yum, am I right, and it’s way too early in the day to drink, but of course, in this house there is never any fucking chocolate when you need it as I make it disappear down my gullet every night before bed, so I found some Doritos, which I haven’t had in 4 years as I’m getting super old (fuck) and the main ingredient in chips is salt, which raises my blood pressure and I am decidedly too stubborn to die young (I have too many people left to piss off, namely my husband, and if he thinks I’m kicking off so he can find himself a younger, hotter woman, that prick is delusional as he knows I’m nothing if not spiteful, which is why we’re both still in this marriage to begin with) and the Doritos made me even happier, salt be damned, but the old blood pressure did rise rather quickly, which made me goofy and I sent you back a nice email that I signed with “Love, Leanne”.
While I’m certain you are loveable, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with my forward and entirely uncalled for proclamation of love, I mean, come on, we don’t even know each other, and it’s true I do love a lot of people but as you are a complete stranger I thought I should clarify that “love” as I don’t want you thinking that if we ever meet in person that I’ll expect you to sleep with me or anything, not saying it wouldn’t be nice, as this is in no way a denigration of your probable sexiness and prowess, but I am married and aside from all the contempt, I do love my husband and am faithful to him, so I was thinking maybe we might just want to form a friendship and if that goes well then we’ll throw in some hand-holding and cuddling but seriously, no pressure.
Sincerely,
Leanne
p.s. If you can get me a book deal, I will love and totally sleep with you. Just so you know.
p.p.s. I feel really tall right now. Is that one of the signs of stroke?
Stupid Monday, marching in at the beginning of the week, all Meh, and Meh, I’m Monday, Ha! Monday can kiss my ass.
So…I’ll fill you in on some things because Monday has me all miserable like a menstruating bear with a chapped vagina and someone said “Write about the things that make you happy”. You know what? Nothing makes me happy on Monday! NOTHING!
As to my absence from this dusty blog (My God, someone should vacuum this hell hole) I shall now attempt to explain. We live in the country and for 3 years have had high-speed internet and phone service provided by a company that rhymes with Snodgers. (I hereby release myself from all litigious action because you know what you did, you stupid dickwads, and I didn’t use your name so bite me.) (That’s legal, right?)
I am convinced that there is a built-in life span for all electronic products. Right around the time the warranty wears off, let’s say a couple of days after, all hell breaks loose. So for the latter half of August, our internet hub gave us sketchy phone and internet at best and finally stopped working COMPLETELY about a month ago. Dear Hubby, in all his masculine beauty, caressed my panicked forehead, deepened his voice an octave, grabbed the phone and said “I shall take care of this, my gorgeous and darling wife, as I know how important the web is to you.” You buying that last part? Yeah, me neither. *sigh*
But what should have been easy ended up with the said company sending us the wrong $150 dollar part (that you can’t get anywhere else. Clever.), charging us for it plus shipping AND signing us up for another 2 years WITHOUT our consent. Oh boy. To top matters off, when Dear Hubs called 4 times to rectify this bullshit, he got YELLED at by the senior v.p. in charge of this fuckery. Hence no internet and no home phone. Does anyone know what this sort of thing does to a blogger? I’ve taken to writing things on paper in longhand and shoving it in the faces of frightened strangers saying “Can you read this? And comment?Tell me I’m funny, nice stranger!PLEASE!” How I haven’t been arrested is beyond me.
Wait. I’m supposed to be writing about things that make me Happy. Okey dokey.
One good and grand thing happened this summer that I haven’t had the chance to post about, what with the above, the dead dog, depression, what not. Ready? Are You Ready?
I got invited to be in an e-book. AND I got published in an e-book! Squeals! Joyous armpit farts!
It’s called All Cracked Up and is a collective of bloggers that are some of the finest humorists and story tellers EVER! Seriously, I read it and tears rolled down my face. I actually felt out of my league, that’s how good these folks are. Here’s the link.
If you do yourself one favour, buy this and snort laugh along with me. You’re welcome.
You know what? I do feel kind of …well, not happy, but less Monday-ish. But Monday can still suck it.
Oh and we got a new puppy but that’s a post for another day, which will happen soon because FUCK YEAH! We have internet again!
And don’t use any service that rhymes with Snodgers. They yell when they think they’re right.
It’s time for some search engine updates. If you’ve been here before you’ll know I get some of the damnedest searches that lead folks to this humble blog. And they slay me every time. This is also the way I tend to break out of a writer’s block. And I’m blocked, Baby, let me tell you. I’ve been working on a couple of things over the past few weeks and so far I have written “The”. I feel a Pulitzer in my future, oh yes I does.
Onward.
female gunt
Why did you have to google that? Tell you what, you just hustle your ass down to Wally World or any good old-fashioned Monster Truck show and you will see the gunt. The gunt is not hidden there. The gunt shows itself proudly. The gunt has no shame. And every time you see the gunt, you must utter “The Gunt Abides” for no other reason than I said so.
everyone looks at me during yoga
That’s because your boob fell out of your top. It’s okay. It happens to the best of us.
shitting in my yoga pants
Um, I take back what I just said. I think I know why they are staring at you now.
fucking bored at sixty
Mom? Is that you? Go knit something.
grannies need a shag too
MOTHER!!! Get off the computer or I’m phoning Dad! Jesus…
what does it mean when someone says you look different in a good way
Well, they’re probably being a bitch. Don’t hang out with them anymore. (Either that or it’s back to that yoga pants thing and they’re trying to be nice. Are they standing far away from you when they said it? Check for shit.)
how can i show my boobs to my neighbour casually
Hmm. That’s tricky but I’ll try to help. Try pressing them up against the window when you are cleaning. Better yet, get a couple of those swiffer floor washing pads and stick `em right on your bare hoots and rub your hoots against the glass. It’ll seem way less obvious.
jesus holds my hand
Sweet. He’ll also hold your hair back if you are vomiting after a night of drinking. He has for me, anyway. At least I think it was him. All I remember was calling “Oh Jesus!” as I retched and someone showed up. But I was drunk so I can’t be sure.
i really like your beard, can I touch it with my vagina
I don’t know who you are but you are responsible for my husband growing a beard so I can say that to him all. the. time.
sore nostril
That might be because of that fantastic beard you have and all the vagina it’s attracting. Shave. Take a week off. Or get your finger out of your nose. Either one.
And my personal favorite,
bombshell
*Batting lashes, blushing, giggling coyly* Me? No. Stop it! (Come back here any time, you silver tongued devil!)
That’s it, my Ducks. Feel free to share your best search terms in the comments. And yes, I still love you.
When anxiety starts to overwhelm me, I take a walk or drive, get out of my head and look at the world around me. It helps me see the beauty and serenity in life.
The North side of my yard.
Some of my neighbours. They’re quiet and their yard is gorgeous.
A very small lake near my house.
Spring fields make me feel hopeful.
New baby neighbours. We watched them waddle across the field to get to the water.
What we call a fence. No pickets here.
I hope you enjoyed my hood. Come over sometime. I’ll make you dinner.
Dear Well Known Blogger: (No, not you, or you, or you.) (Quit it! It’s not you!!!)
I read you for a couple of months a year or so ago. I liked your writing and you had a great back story. Very sad, indeed. But you wrote it well. I followed you on the twit and Facebook. I wanted to know you. I really wanted to like you. I imagined gleefully meeting somewhere, having a beer. I wanted to like you as a person, not just a bloggy face.
But then…
Well, I have issues with the whole social media thing. I do. This spring I bore witness to the worst aspects of it, when a blogger got bullied and chest butted by another blogger’s husband over what I consider something so benign as to be laughable. On twitter. For the world to see. What I found so incredibly disturbing was that this was a case of cyber-bullying, in essence, by a person that brands himself as a family man. I think I get it. He mistakenly thought he was standing up for his wife, yet the way he went about it left me to wonder what he would have done if he’d had physical access to the person that offended him.
Is this what we’ve become? Is social media just the new jungle gym to knock someone else off of? Does anyone think of the embarrassment that they may cause? Or the pain?
Back to you. I stopped following you on the twit after I saw one of your tweets congratulating a country on their killing of a madman. Like Yay! He’s dead! Way to go! That just flat-out gave me pause. If you are a person that advocates for others (which you do), why would you ever tweet about anyone’s death like that? I didn’t get it. I unfollowed you and stopped reading. But like I said, I really wanted to like you. For you.
I just came back to you a few days ago. I was almost excited. Like reconnecting with an old friend. But you did it again. You insulted someone on twitter. Someone that had done a lot of work, laid themselves out in front of people. Someone who didn’t deserve to be made fun of because they were sharing their truth as they see it. You called them a name. I ask you; if that person read your ‘harmless’ little tweet, what do you think they would feel? What if that person made their living this way? Who are you to piss on them?
Again, I think I get it. I’m of the mind that you think you are as famous as The Bloggess. www.thebloggess.com. That just maybe, you can call people out and be rude when you feel because you are “famous” and no one will take you to task. Well, I’ve read almost all of Jenny’s work and I will say this. If she has to get into a shitfight, she manages to still do it with humour and dare I say, a semblance of class. If she calls out her minions on twitter, all of us now happy members of The Unicorn Success Club, she also can call us all back. Do you know why? Because we are all nice people. We read her because she has a good heart and like attracts like.
Having said that, if I have to be a social maven who is rude, mean and thinks others are beneath them to be successful at blogging, I guess I want no part of it.
I think I’ll happily stay here in my own dimly lit little corner of the web. I hope you are aware that if I tweet, as I’ve been known to do, the biggest person I make fun of is myself. And I never high-five anyone’s death. I don’t care who it is. That is just bad form.
I think that’s it. If you do read this, I can only hope that you realize that fame is fleeting. Someday soon you’ll be second-hand news. I also hope you learn that an inner censor is not a bad thing. You are better than some of the things you’ve put out to the world.
I reached out a couple of weeks ago to some bloggers and writers I know for advice on applying for writing gigs. Paid ones. Not all this *flipping hand around* free stuff I do. Don’t get me wrong. This is one of the best things I’ve done in my life. I’ve had my words received by you folks in a good light. I get to (read those words: GET TO) make you smile, laugh (hopefully), maybe even think a bit. You make me feel less alone. I hope I do the same for you.
I love it. We interact. I learn from you all. This group, you guys, the bloggers, the writers, the commenters, well, it just stuns me that you take the time to come over here. I’m honoured. I thank you for taking the time while I learn this *hand flip*. I thank you for accepting me into your (in)box. I thank you for reading about my pms, tampons and disturbed, problematic, I’m-going-to-shit-my-self-to-death colon journeys. Wow. Really, if I’d talked about this with a group of strangers, I’m sure they would have done the wooden, wide-eyed OMG smile and ran away. But you, you tenacious little bunch, you listen and share your own shit stuff.
I’ve had a couple of moments where I thought I might quit this. Stop. Get a “real” job. Stop all this dreaming. Stop the nonsensical bullshit (I should get that tattooed somewhere). Then you guys *wagging finger with a smile*, you guys gallop in and read me! How can I leave you? Who would I talk to?
Well. It’s Desperately Grateful Thank You time. In no particular order,
Jewels at www.accordingtojewels.com. A cheerleader, a source of writing advice, a friend. She writes what she feels with no apologies. Her fiction is brilliant. She’s funny, whip-smart and you’ll love her. She gets a spot in my bunker when the Apocalypse happens. I can see us now, shoulder to shoulder, shooting zombies while the men folk cook and clean…sigh.
The Rev.Paperboy at http://kevinswoodshed.blogspot.ca . This man took the time to read everything I’ve written, in one night. I think he was drunk. But I asked for his help, and bang! There he was. He couldn’t make up his mind what posts he liked best, so he was sort of useless to me, but I’ll always be grateful. I’ll buy Cuba for us to start a new country someday.
Nicole at www.ninjamomblog.com. You think I’m funny? You.are.drunk. Now sober up and go read her. She is hilarious, and so witty you’ll never come back here. She also sent me her advice and good wishes on applying for that job. And she has four kids! When does she sleep? She might be on crack but I love her.
Kevin at http://theater-of-cruelty.blogspot.ca . He’s a dry wit and a damn fine writer. He’s also a master of logic. I’m having a hat made that holds a couple of beer for him that says that so everyone will know. (And he won’t need to go to the fridge so often. Logic, see?)
Bea Schooled at www.justmakingconvo.com. She makes me snort laugh every time I read her. I can’t even explain the humour and wit and the scary good Photoshop skills she has. And she’s always helpful and promotive. Just go there. Run! You’ll thank me.
I have nothing to give you, except a big old bear hug atwixt my boobs!
Oh wait. There’s this.
The First EVAH One Odd Duck Award for not being a cut-throat bitch! Because NONE of you are. I don’t think so. I guess you might be but you’re not to me so YOU GET AN AWARD!!!
Grab it, put it on your blog if you want, Facebook, make a purse (I’m thinking one of those fake tattoos, right in the middle of my forehead so everyone will know). Or just leave it here, to come and bask in the awesomeness of it all. *Sigh* Thanks, Kathy! http://www.stringbeandesign.ca
Oh and this:
Just so you know, I had this EXACT outfit when I was 13. Same hair, too. So it’s almost like I’m singing to you. Yes, let’s go with that.
One Odd Duck 