I am out of sorts.
I have been out of sorts since Sandy hit on the 29th. That's like 10 days ago and I still can't seem to get it together. We've had power back for almost a week. My parents finally have their power back today. Everyone I know is okay.
We didn't even lose power during Wednesday's lovely nor'easter. And by lovely, I mean are-you-fucking-kidding-me.
Still, the kids are back in school. I've spent all our extra money on batteries, lanterns and food donations. And by extra, I mean money-I-really-should-have-used-it-for-bills.
I should be back to writing blogs and articles and working on my reading website, which will be called "The Reading Witch" because someone already bought thereadingbitch.com. And by someone, I mean that bitch.
Instead I just really want to curl up with the entire Harry Potter series, some chocolate and Rachel Maddow reading election results in the background. Actually, what I really want to do is take Donald Trump's American Express card and buy all the things on the Sandy Volunteer Amazon wishlists:
New Jersey's List
New York's List
And then I would like to donate a lot more than $10 to the Red Cross. Also, I would like to invite all the people still living in shelters and in schools and wherever to stay in the apartments in NYC that people use as second and third and fourth homes.
This does not make me a socialist. But it might make me a communist. Though I don't expect anyone to give up their New York home permanently, I'd just like them to share while people are in need. Maybe some of them are, I don't know. The only people I know who had second homes had them at the Jersey shore.
So yeah. I'm still out of sorts.
Showing posts with label I have issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I have issues. Show all posts
11/09/2012
10/16/2012
The Urge To Homeschool Strikes Again
Ironflower recently told me that she hates school.
Since Ironflower was the kid who cried when she had to leave preschool each day, this is not good. Not that it would be good anyway, of course, but in other kids it might make sense. Lovebug, for example, who is still struggling with the transition to the full day of first grade and who would rather be home playing with his Legos than just about anything, doesn't hate school.
When I went with her class to the Book Fair, I was uncomfortable. Her teacher had them pair up by asking each child to pick a partner, leaving the last two kids to pair up by default. They looked upset. No one seemed to care. It killed me and it wasn't even my kid. When we walked to the fair, Ironflower held my hand the entire time. She did not do that in first grade or in kindergarten.
The class was the least cohesive class I've ever seen; pairs hardly communicated at all. When I went to the Fair with Lovebug's class, they all chattered with each other and Lovebug hung out with his buddies and his teacher didn't have them pick partners. Lovebug, my affectionate boy, hardly held my hand at all.
Since then, I've heard stories of bullying in Ironflower's class. I'm not surprised. The bullying upsets Ironflower even though it hasn't happened to her so far.
Since Ironflower was the kid who cried when she had to leave preschool each day, this is not good. Not that it would be good anyway, of course, but in other kids it might make sense. Lovebug, for example, who is still struggling with the transition to the full day of first grade and who would rather be home playing with his Legos than just about anything, doesn't hate school.
When I went with her class to the Book Fair, I was uncomfortable. Her teacher had them pair up by asking each child to pick a partner, leaving the last two kids to pair up by default. They looked upset. No one seemed to care. It killed me and it wasn't even my kid. When we walked to the fair, Ironflower held my hand the entire time. She did not do that in first grade or in kindergarten.
The class was the least cohesive class I've ever seen; pairs hardly communicated at all. When I went to the Fair with Lovebug's class, they all chattered with each other and Lovebug hung out with his buddies and his teacher didn't have them pick partners. Lovebug, my affectionate boy, hardly held my hand at all.
Since then, I've heard stories of bullying in Ironflower's class. I'm not surprised. The bullying upsets Ironflower even though it hasn't happened to her so far.
 |
| She picked out her outfit and hair accessory. |
And then there's the school work. It is piles of worksheets that cover the same topic. The same topic that Ironflower understood after the first work sheet. During independent reading time, Ironflower is not allowed to get more books. Some days she finishes two chapter books in the time allotted for reading, but she can't get more books. I don't quite understand. She seemed nervous when I suggested she bring a book from home to keep in her desk.
Finally, there's the look on her face when I suggested that she ask her teacher something. She looked horrified. My friendly, assertive, roller coaster riding kid looked nervous.
I never thought I would have trouble talking to my kids' teachers. But I have no idea what to say to this woman without being like, "Do you not know anything about children? Why are you giving them so many work sheets? Why do you want them to be bored? Do you not like the kids who are getting picked on? Can I just sit here and observe for a few days so that I can judge your professional competence?"
I don't think those questions would be very effective. Any suggestions?
4/30/2012
Retinol Is The Devil
I mean, it's not a devil like Rush Limbaugh or heroin, but I still think it's pretty bad. Granted, I'm no scientist. Or dermatologist. Or someone who didn't cheat her way through the only chemistry class she ever took (by the way, thanks Gregg and Tom - I couldn't have passed without you!). But I am a person who started getting wrinkles and zits at the same time and was told by numerous magazines and websites that Retinol would save my skin.
Now you could argue that my skin has just gotten worse in the last 8 years because I've had 3 kids, been in the sun too much and turned 40. In fact, that was the argument I would have given you as I was buying my retinol based skin cleanser and moisturizer at Walgreens.
Then I forgot my retinol stuff when we went to Florida.
I was convinced that I was going to break out in some horrible way, but I really didn't want to send Hot Guy on yet another run to the local Publix until it actually happened. I also thought my wrinkles might turn into craters, which is why I slathered regular moisturizer onto them each night.
Instead, during my week without retinol my skin improved. So I didn't use it when I got home. Just as a little experiment. I figured the water or the lack of stress in Florida were what saved my skin. But it's now been over a month and I haven't broken out at all. In any way. My skin is less splotchy than it's been in years. My wrinkles even appear to be holding steady.
Before writing this, I tried to do a little actual research about retinoids (while all of my cosmetic products call the Vitamin A derivative "retinol" on the bottle, most reputable sites I found called the topical stuff "retinoids"). The most reputable thing I found was an article summarizing actual scientific research by the Environmental Working Group. Other reputable sites suggested not using retinoids if they caused peeling, redness or other irritation. But that never happened to me.
The University of Maryland Medical Center points out that over-the-counter retinol products are unregulated and may not contain any retinol at all. On my tube and jar, it's listed as the only active ingredient, but even that doesn't mean anything. So I suppose it's quite possible that it's not the retinol/retinoid that screwed up my skin, but one of the many inactive ingredients. I don't know.
The main thing I found in my research were sites that purported to be written by a dermatologist or a make-up artist and filled with testimonials about how awesome retinoids are. So I decided to write my own testimonial.
Do not use retinol products on your skin, especially if you're just picking them up at the
drugstore. The more hippie all natural stuff I use, the better my 40 year old skin looks. And if
could go back and tell the teenage me one thing, it would be to only use hippie all natural
stuff on my skin. And to not cheat in chemistry, so that maybe I could understand all the
studies described on the National Institutes of Health website.
Do you/have you used a retinol product? What do you think? Is my skin just weird?
Now you could argue that my skin has just gotten worse in the last 8 years because I've had 3 kids, been in the sun too much and turned 40. In fact, that was the argument I would have given you as I was buying my retinol based skin cleanser and moisturizer at Walgreens.
Then I forgot my retinol stuff when we went to Florida.
I was convinced that I was going to break out in some horrible way, but I really didn't want to send Hot Guy on yet another run to the local Publix until it actually happened. I also thought my wrinkles might turn into craters, which is why I slathered regular moisturizer onto them each night.
Instead, during my week without retinol my skin improved. So I didn't use it when I got home. Just as a little experiment. I figured the water or the lack of stress in Florida were what saved my skin. But it's now been over a month and I haven't broken out at all. In any way. My skin is less splotchy than it's been in years. My wrinkles even appear to be holding steady.
Before writing this, I tried to do a little actual research about retinoids (while all of my cosmetic products call the Vitamin A derivative "retinol" on the bottle, most reputable sites I found called the topical stuff "retinoids"). The most reputable thing I found was an article summarizing actual scientific research by the Environmental Working Group. Other reputable sites suggested not using retinoids if they caused peeling, redness or other irritation. But that never happened to me.
The University of Maryland Medical Center points out that over-the-counter retinol products are unregulated and may not contain any retinol at all. On my tube and jar, it's listed as the only active ingredient, but even that doesn't mean anything. So I suppose it's quite possible that it's not the retinol/retinoid that screwed up my skin, but one of the many inactive ingredients. I don't know.
The main thing I found in my research were sites that purported to be written by a dermatologist or a make-up artist and filled with testimonials about how awesome retinoids are. So I decided to write my own testimonial.
Do not use retinol products on your skin, especially if you're just picking them up at the
drugstore. The more hippie all natural stuff I use, the better my 40 year old skin looks. And if
could go back and tell the teenage me one thing, it would be to only use hippie all natural
stuff on my skin. And to not cheat in chemistry, so that maybe I could understand all the
studies described on the National Institutes of Health website.
Do you/have you used a retinol product? What do you think? Is my skin just weird?
6/13/2011
Be Less Annoying on Facebook and Twitter
There are not a lot of areas in which I'm equipped to give advice. My oldest child is 6, so I can only give parenting advice on what goes on before that. I've got a master's degree in teaching reading, so I can probably still give pointers there, though I'm so removed from the classroom I don't think I could give actual teaching advice anymore.
Other than raising 3 kids and watching all the Real Housewives franchises, I probably spend most of my time on the internet. And even though I'm ostensibly "working" during that time, what I'm really doing is checking Facebook and Twitter. And that's where I am totally qualified to give advice.
On Facebook:
1. I like seeing pictures of your kids, but if you don't want to post pictures of your kids? I don't really care.
2. Of course you can brag sometimes. I think it's great that your child got straight As and that your spouse bought you the best gift ever. But when every status update you give says how great everything in your life is, I suspect that you are actually suicidal.
3. By the same token, it's okay to be down sometimes. I'm happy to try to cheer you up or give you support. But when every status update you give is about how bad things are, I suspect that you are not suicidal, but simply desperate for attention.
4. Stop copying and pasting your status updates. If you love your sister, than write an update about her that's specific. If you want to support a cause, write an original update and include the link. Status updates are not chain mail, it's okay not to pass them on.
5. If you don't actually know and like a person, don't befriend them. No one needs 537 friends.
6. I do not want to play whatever game you are playing. I do not want to help you play whatever game you are playing. Leave me to my own time suckers, thank you.
7. However, if you have a funny video or interesting news article to share, that is good. That's my kind of time sucker.
8. Know thy privacy settings. Only your friends (NOT your friends of friends, you have no idea what kind of crazy people your neighbor went to high school with) should be able to see your stuff. Besides, this will drive your exes crazy when they try to cyberstalk you.
On Twitter:
1. Twitter does not care what you had for breakfast or how long your baby napped. . . . . unless you are really, really, funny or really, really, famous.
2. Twitter is a conversation. If you never respond to people, no one will pay attention to you.
3. When you post on Twitter, you should be funny or be sharing information.
4. The way to find followers is to start following lots of people and responding to people's tweets. Or be a famous person having a mental breakdown.
5. You don't have to follow everyone who follows you, but you should at least look at their profiles. I ignore most of the businesses, the ones without a picture and all the people who are super-religious. Because if you are talking about being saved in your Twitter profile, we probably don't have a lot in common.
6. Twitter is about karma. Like a blog post or an article? Retweet it. Read something that made you laugh out loud? Retweet it. Give compliments. You can't be too nice on Twitter.
BTW, I have totally done most of things that I advise against. I'm just trying to spare you the humiliation, so there's no need to bring up the time I invited you to play Mafia Wars.
Other than raising 3 kids and watching all the Real Housewives franchises, I probably spend most of my time on the internet. And even though I'm ostensibly "working" during that time, what I'm really doing is checking Facebook and Twitter. And that's where I am totally qualified to give advice.
On Facebook:
1. I like seeing pictures of your kids, but if you don't want to post pictures of your kids? I don't really care.
2. Of course you can brag sometimes. I think it's great that your child got straight As and that your spouse bought you the best gift ever. But when every status update you give says how great everything in your life is, I suspect that you are actually suicidal.
3. By the same token, it's okay to be down sometimes. I'm happy to try to cheer you up or give you support. But when every status update you give is about how bad things are, I suspect that you are not suicidal, but simply desperate for attention.
4. Stop copying and pasting your status updates. If you love your sister, than write an update about her that's specific. If you want to support a cause, write an original update and include the link. Status updates are not chain mail, it's okay not to pass them on.
5. If you don't actually know and like a person, don't befriend them. No one needs 537 friends.
6. I do not want to play whatever game you are playing. I do not want to help you play whatever game you are playing. Leave me to my own time suckers, thank you.
7. However, if you have a funny video or interesting news article to share, that is good. That's my kind of time sucker.
8. Know thy privacy settings. Only your friends (NOT your friends of friends, you have no idea what kind of crazy people your neighbor went to high school with) should be able to see your stuff. Besides, this will drive your exes crazy when they try to cyberstalk you.
On Twitter:
1. Twitter does not care what you had for breakfast or how long your baby napped. . . . . unless you are really, really, funny or really, really, famous.
2. Twitter is a conversation. If you never respond to people, no one will pay attention to you.
3. When you post on Twitter, you should be funny or be sharing information.
4. The way to find followers is to start following lots of people and responding to people's tweets. Or be a famous person having a mental breakdown.
5. You don't have to follow everyone who follows you, but you should at least look at their profiles. I ignore most of the businesses, the ones without a picture and all the people who are super-religious. Because if you are talking about being saved in your Twitter profile, we probably don't have a lot in common.
6. Twitter is about karma. Like a blog post or an article? Retweet it. Read something that made you laugh out loud? Retweet it. Give compliments. You can't be too nice on Twitter.
BTW, I have totally done most of things that I advise against. I'm just trying to spare you the humiliation, so there's no need to bring up the time I invited you to play Mafia Wars.
6/07/2011
Excuses, Excuses
I have had approximately 8 great posting ideas in the past week. Seriously. They were fabulous. Genius, even. Which is what makes it so unfortunate that I didn't even get to write them down, let alone actually write the posts. Because naturally I can't remember any of the brilliant and funny things I wanted to say. Hell, I can't even remember how the sentence was supposed to end, thanks to the phone ringing just now. But here's a brief synopsis of why I seem to have abandoned the internet lately:
1. Lovebug graduated from preschool last week. It was lovely and I teared up, but so far I haven't been too traumatized because he'll be going to camp there for the next 3 weeks. Camp is in the morning, by the way. And Ironflower is still in afternoon kindergarten. Essentially this means I have doubled my time in the car.
2. It is finally summer. Not that you can really tell from our lifestyle, as our pool only opened last weekend and it's only open on weekends for the next few weeks AND we couldn't actually go to the pool last weekend. This is what you get when you join the super-affordable pool. But even though we haven't been at the pool, we've been at the park. Pretty sure it's been 10 months since it was warm and not raining so we've been trying to take advantage. Plus, my children are slightly easier to deal with when they are tired.
3. I've been trying to keep the house a bit more clean. I'm failing miserably because it feels like I wasn't even home yesterday or the day before, yet there's still crap everywhere. Anyway, it's cut somewhat into my internet time.
4. I have Kindle for iPad now. I've been reading Nell Sweeney Mysteries
by PB Ryan. And rereading George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones Boxed Set: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Feast for Crows (A Song of Ice and Fire)
so that I can be ready when A Dance with Dragons comes out in July.
5. So. Many. Birthday. Parties. I love taking the kids to them, they always have such a great time. And often I actually get to speak to other adults, which is always exciting for me. But. The arranging for care of uninvited siblings. The present buying. The wrapping. This summer I swear I'm stockpiling a bunch of presents and wrapping them so that I'm always prepared.
1. Lovebug graduated from preschool last week. It was lovely and I teared up, but so far I haven't been too traumatized because he'll be going to camp there for the next 3 weeks. Camp is in the morning, by the way. And Ironflower is still in afternoon kindergarten. Essentially this means I have doubled my time in the car.
2. It is finally summer. Not that you can really tell from our lifestyle, as our pool only opened last weekend and it's only open on weekends for the next few weeks AND we couldn't actually go to the pool last weekend. This is what you get when you join the super-affordable pool. But even though we haven't been at the pool, we've been at the park. Pretty sure it's been 10 months since it was warm and not raining so we've been trying to take advantage. Plus, my children are slightly easier to deal with when they are tired.
3. I've been trying to keep the house a bit more clean. I'm failing miserably because it feels like I wasn't even home yesterday or the day before, yet there's still crap everywhere. Anyway, it's cut somewhat into my internet time.
4. I have Kindle for iPad now. I've been reading Nell Sweeney Mysteries
by PB Ryan. And rereading George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones Boxed Set: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Feast for Crows (A Song of Ice and Fire) so that I can be ready when A Dance with Dragons comes out in July. 5. So. Many. Birthday. Parties. I love taking the kids to them, they always have such a great time. And often I actually get to speak to other adults, which is always exciting for me. But. The arranging for care of uninvited siblings. The present buying. The wrapping. This summer I swear I'm stockpiling a bunch of presents and wrapping them so that I'm always prepared.
5/24/2011
At Least I Can Stop Buying Tap Shoes Now
This weekend was Ironflower's dance recital. She performed a tap number to "New York, New York" and a jazz number to "Fun, Fun, Fun". Naturally she looked absolutely gorgeous and completed all the steps well.
But the expression on her face most of the time?
Kinda miserable.
And the timing of the well-executed steps?
Kinda off.
I have watched my girl dance around the house since she could stand up. I have seen her find the beat of the songs she loves as she jumps around. I have the pre-K graduation t-shirt that says she wants to be a ballerina when she grows up. But I also have to face the facts: Ironflower doesn't want to dance anymore. She didn't enjoy performing in the recital. She doesn't enjoy going to class.
I thought I'd have a few more adorable pictures before she'd quit dancing. I thought she wouldn't be that grown up yet.
I am so proud of her, because even though she didn't enjoy any of it, she did her best and didn't complain. She's never fussed about going to class, either, just told me that she'd rather do other things next year. Even though I offered to send her to the school where some of her kindergarten buddies go. Even though I said that next year, she could choose ballet or jazz or tap. Even though it's kinda breaking my heart.
But the expression on her face most of the time?
Kinda miserable.
And the timing of the well-executed steps?
Kinda off.
I have watched my girl dance around the house since she could stand up. I have seen her find the beat of the songs she loves as she jumps around. I have the pre-K graduation t-shirt that says she wants to be a ballerina when she grows up. But I also have to face the facts: Ironflower doesn't want to dance anymore. She didn't enjoy performing in the recital. She doesn't enjoy going to class.
I thought I'd have a few more adorable pictures before she'd quit dancing. I thought she wouldn't be that grown up yet.
I am so proud of her, because even though she didn't enjoy any of it, she did her best and didn't complain. She's never fussed about going to class, either, just told me that she'd rather do other things next year. Even though I offered to send her to the school where some of her kindergarten buddies go. Even though I said that next year, she could choose ballet or jazz or tap. Even though it's kinda breaking my heart.
I mean, Lovebug even told her he was excited to see her dance. And how cute is this picture?
There'd better be some cuteness opportunities during soccer and gymnastics next year, that's all I gotta say.
4/15/2011
Not a Genius, But Possibly a Loser
My super new genius parenting idea?
Didn't turn out to be much of a time saver. Crackers and pretzels and whatnot work great, but cheese? Not so much. And we won't even talk about their reaction to the apples. Maybe if I didn't still have to cut them for Hugmonkey.
I'm thinking about trying again, using a drawer in the refrigerator and a specific snack drawer. It will require a lot more prep time in the morning, but fewer interruptions have got to be worth it. I also made the mistake of watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, so now I want to modify the family's eating habits. And then I read about 7 articles about pesticides and plastics and I kind of want to go organic.
Can broke people even go organic?
I suppose another option would be to stop reading magazines and watching TV, but since they are some of the few vices I have left I don't think that's gonna happen. Not being a supermom means I need my vices.
In other not-genius news, I invited 38 people to go to the park with us yesterday. All of Ironflower's and Lovebug's classmates. I mentioned this to the kids. It made the fact that 2 kids showed up go from a happy surprise to disappointment.
Not only am I not a genius, but apparently I'm not very popular either. Obviously it's time for black eyeliner, more tattoos and a vampire fetish. Or something that will make me the cool mom and not the loser mom.
Didn't turn out to be much of a time saver. Crackers and pretzels and whatnot work great, but cheese? Not so much. And we won't even talk about their reaction to the apples. Maybe if I didn't still have to cut them for Hugmonkey.
I'm thinking about trying again, using a drawer in the refrigerator and a specific snack drawer. It will require a lot more prep time in the morning, but fewer interruptions have got to be worth it. I also made the mistake of watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, so now I want to modify the family's eating habits. And then I read about 7 articles about pesticides and plastics and I kind of want to go organic.
Can broke people even go organic?
I suppose another option would be to stop reading magazines and watching TV, but since they are some of the few vices I have left I don't think that's gonna happen. Not being a supermom means I need my vices.
In other not-genius news, I invited 38 people to go to the park with us yesterday. All of Ironflower's and Lovebug's classmates. I mentioned this to the kids. It made the fact that 2 kids showed up go from a happy surprise to disappointment.
Not only am I not a genius, but apparently I'm not very popular either. Obviously it's time for black eyeliner, more tattoos and a vampire fetish. Or something that will make me the cool mom and not the loser mom.
7/25/2010
Schadenfreude
I am trying to remember the last time I was in a truly good mood. I have flashes of happiness, like watching ChunkyMonkey hold his siblings' hands as they carefully walked him to the car the other night or watching Ironflower and Lovebug giggle in the pool yesterday. But an overall feeling of well-being that lasted more than a few hours?
I have no idea.
I was fine until I read some happy status updates on Facebook. It's not that I'm filled with schadenfreude, exactly. I don't like it when skaters fall or waiters drop trays. And it's not that I want every status update I read to be a complaint about kids or jobs. Really.
But when someone is perpetually upbeat these days, I kinda want to smack them. I wonder if there's a German word for annoyance at the extreme happiness of others?
I am grateful for so many things, feel fortunate for so many reasons. But I am also worried and stressed about so many things. So many legitimate and currently unfixable things. And I don't think everything my kids do is adorable. Or even tolerable.
So I bitch. And I was okay with that until I started having violent thoughts while on Facebook. I mean, how do people get to be happy all of the time? Even drug addicts have to come down sometimes.
I have no idea.
I was fine until I read some happy status updates on Facebook. It's not that I'm filled with schadenfreude, exactly. I don't like it when skaters fall or waiters drop trays. And it's not that I want every status update I read to be a complaint about kids or jobs. Really.
But when someone is perpetually upbeat these days, I kinda want to smack them. I wonder if there's a German word for annoyance at the extreme happiness of others?
I am grateful for so many things, feel fortunate for so many reasons. But I am also worried and stressed about so many things. So many legitimate and currently unfixable things. And I don't think everything my kids do is adorable. Or even tolerable.
So I bitch. And I was okay with that until I started having violent thoughts while on Facebook. I mean, how do people get to be happy all of the time? Even drug addicts have to come down sometimes.
9/03/2009
Click Whore
Many moons ago, I used to post on a site called "Blogit". It was under a different name, so don't bother looking for me there. . . . there are just some things that should remain anonymous. Anyway, Blogit was a blogging community where you got pennies for page views, but the real thrill was to make the top ten in the various categories.
Well, I say it was the real thrill because A., I'm competitive and B., I made about 80 bucks after practically living on that site for 6 months. I quickly learned that the best way to get page views - and my name on the top tens - was to name check other bloggers in my posts. Eventually it got to the point where I just started a blog called "Click Whore" to separate my power-grabbing, name-dropping writing from the real stuff.
When I ventured out into the real blogging world, I did my best to avoid click whoredom. Any mentions of other bloggers were heartfelt and any comments I made on other people's blogs were genuine. I slowly built up my readers to a certain point. Then I got distracted by other (paid) writing work and three kids and the blog sort of stagnated.
Which was truly okay with me. I didn't need hundreds of subscribers or thousands of page views! I wasn't going to spend all of my family time blogging! As long as a few people were reading, I was FINE.
Then, one day last week, my traffic spiked. Tripled, to be exact. Just for one day. I searched to see if someonesupercool (wait, everyone who links to me is supercool) famous had linked to me or dugg me or whatever, but I couldn't find anything. I couldn't find a trackback, either.
The only thing I knew was that the spike had happened when I posted about The Fresh Beat Band.
And now I've become a click whore. I mean, I don't even know if it was The Fresh Beat Band that got me the readers, but I'm stooping to mentioning them. Which may not even work. Like whoring myself out to a guy who'll pay me with his gambling money. . .if he wins.
Suddenly I can see it all so clearly. . .
She stumbles out of the seedy hotel, leopard print mini-skirt flipping, long red wig slightly askew. "Damn it, that poor bastard didn't have enough. . .Why didn't he win? I need more, more. . .just one more day with all that traffic and then I'll be done, I swear.. . . . HEY YOU!" She takes off quickly but slows down when the the transparent heel of her stiletto breaks off. A man in a trenchcoat runs in the opposite direction. "Wait! Foot fetish pictures! Angelina Jolie naked! With Levi Johnston!" She starts to cry as the man disappears. Just as she finishes wiping her nose on the sleeve of her pink faux angora (fauxgora?) sweater, a young woman approaches her.
"It doesn't work that way anymore, ma'am. But if you just come over here the Wal-Mart, we can take your picture and you can have internet fame of a different sort. . . "
Well, I say it was the real thrill because A., I'm competitive and B., I made about 80 bucks after practically living on that site for 6 months. I quickly learned that the best way to get page views - and my name on the top tens - was to name check other bloggers in my posts. Eventually it got to the point where I just started a blog called "Click Whore" to separate my power-grabbing, name-dropping writing from the real stuff.
When I ventured out into the real blogging world, I did my best to avoid click whoredom. Any mentions of other bloggers were heartfelt and any comments I made on other people's blogs were genuine. I slowly built up my readers to a certain point. Then I got distracted by other (paid) writing work and three kids and the blog sort of stagnated.
Which was truly okay with me. I didn't need hundreds of subscribers or thousands of page views! I wasn't going to spend all of my family time blogging! As long as a few people were reading, I was FINE.
Then, one day last week, my traffic spiked. Tripled, to be exact. Just for one day. I searched to see if someone
The only thing I knew was that the spike had happened when I posted about The Fresh Beat Band.
And now I've become a click whore. I mean, I don't even know if it was The Fresh Beat Band that got me the readers, but I'm stooping to mentioning them. Which may not even work. Like whoring myself out to a guy who'll pay me with his gambling money. . .if he wins.
Suddenly I can see it all so clearly. . .
She stumbles out of the seedy hotel, leopard print mini-skirt flipping, long red wig slightly askew. "Damn it, that poor bastard didn't have enough. . .Why didn't he win? I need more, more. . .just one more day with all that traffic and then I'll be done, I swear.. . . . HEY YOU!" She takes off quickly but slows down when the the transparent heel of her stiletto breaks off. A man in a trenchcoat runs in the opposite direction. "Wait! Foot fetish pictures! Angelina Jolie naked! With Levi Johnston!" She starts to cry as the man disappears. Just as she finishes wiping her nose on the sleeve of her pink faux angora (fauxgora?) sweater, a young woman approaches her.
"It doesn't work that way anymore, ma'am. But if you just come over here the Wal-Mart, we can take your picture and you can have internet fame of a different sort. . . "
3/09/2009
This Should Probably Be On Twitter
But it can't be, since I fear Twitter. I think it could consume my life. Besides, I can't join it now that the conventional media has discovered it. I hate bandwagons.
Anyway. Here are some things too short to be posts and too me to be tweets.
I managed to fuck up brownies tonight. I mean, it's one thing to not be able to cook more than hot dogs and muffins. . .but brownies? I'm not sure what I did, either. But luckily enough in the middle survived that I can bring them to Lovebug's class tomorrow for his birthday.
Also, I am paranoid. Yesterday she saw a Carmen Miranda doll at a museum. She said, "I'm going to pretend that doll is a ghost who says, 'Ooooooooo, quesadilla! Queeeessssaadiiiilla! ' ". Naturally I assumed she was developing some possibly racist associations with Latino culture but when I asked her why the ghost doll would say that she responded with, "Because I like quesadillas."
Anyway. Here are some things too short to be posts and too me to be tweets.
I managed to fuck up brownies tonight. I mean, it's one thing to not be able to cook more than hot dogs and muffins. . .but brownies? I'm not sure what I did, either. But luckily enough in the middle survived that I can bring them to Lovebug's class tomorrow for his birthday.
Also, I am paranoid. Yesterday she saw a Carmen Miranda doll at a museum. She said, "I'm going to pretend that doll is a ghost who says, 'Ooooooooo, quesadilla! Queeeessssaadiiiilla! ' ". Naturally I assumed she was developing some possibly racist associations with Latino culture but when I asked her why the ghost doll would say that she responded with, "Because I like quesadillas."
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