I am going to be honest with you, dear readers 'o mine.
I've been thinking about kicking this blog to the curb over this past week. I sometimes feel like I should devote more time to organizing this or that, cleaning the door stoppers, brushing my teeth, etc.
I LOVE to write this blog. I truly do, but I often feel like if I stopped writing it, my hair could get washed and I could finally finish scrubbing out the inside of the chimney with Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser. However, I've gotten some really great feedback from real-life friends (who I absolutely adore and appreciate!!!) and friends I've made in the blogosphere/Twittersphere that have encouraged me to set better boundaries without having to leave it all behind. One of those people was Maryline with
"Franco American Dream" who wrote a guest post on
"Real Life with Kids" called
"The Bulimic Blogger" that I appreciated very much!
In the interest of keeping my blog going while giving my brain a hall pass today, I thought I'd feature a clip from a post I wrote around the time I began this silly blog. (Did you just call me a sell-out?
What's up widdat? Ooooooooooo weeeeeeeee, what's up, widdat? What's up, widdat? I LOVE that SNL skit. I used to sort of like it, now I love it. I want to be the guy in the red track suit).
I sent my Chinese clone to a Pampered Chef party once...
When it comes to parties like "Pampered Chef", "Stella & Dot", "Mary Kay", etc. for me what's running through my head is usually just "Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? Where are the snacks? I like snacks. I like snacks. I like snacks. Snacks are good. Snacks are good. Snacks are good. Snacks are crack. Snacks are crack. Snacks are crack. I'm having a snack attack, snack attack, snack attack, snaaaacccck uuuutakj;lekjr;aslkjdfasjf..". It's at this point that "my" voice turns robotic, the eyes pop out and bounce up & down on springs and smoke pours out of my ears. I have been discovered. Everyone now knows that I sent my clone robot to the "Pampered Chef" party so that I could go chill at Barnes & Noble. (I know "it" girls would pick a spa, but I like the smell of books. I just pick an aisle, lean my nose against a stack of books and breathe in deep.) And, yes, my robot can eat food. Can't yours?? What also gave me away is that they didn't remember me being Chinese. [I am going to have to fork over the money and update that thing...] The rumor had been going around that I might've been sending a robot to these shindigs. One time my robot apparently kept saying "Where are the votive candles? Where are the votive candles?" over and over, which girls in the neighborhood just found plain odd. She finally stopped when someone accidently bumped into her & set that hiccup in her wiring right again. I had set her budget for that party to $100 and the robot knew that the votive candles were surely the only thing in that price range. Turns out that robot bought 50 of those stinkin' squatty candles. Anyway, it is SO tricky trying to pulling this clone robot bit off! I first have to climb up into the attic, get my clone robot without my husband or kids seeing (they'd FREAK OUT!), flatten her down into the back seat so no one sees me & starts spreading the rumor that I have a twin (that used to happen when I would hang out with Lady Gaga due to our incredible likeness. It was a MESS of a story to have to clear up...), drive to the pretty house with the cheerful hostess and push the clone robot out. I then have to high-tail it to Barnes & Noble to get a fix of my two favorite smells: books and coffee. I am going to shove those springy eyes back into her sockets soon and then program her to clean this house up. Going to shopping parties is just a fraction of the tricks that clone-bot has up her sleeve! Let me know if you want to order one.
I'll be back with more useless stuff next week!
In the interest of keeping my blog going while giving my brain a hall pass today, I thought I'd feature a clip from a post I wrote around the time I began this silly blog. (Did you just call me a sell-out? What's up widdat? Ooooooooooo weeeeeeeee, what's up, widdat? What's up, widdat? I LOVE that SNL skit. I used to sort of like it, now I love it. I want to be the guy in the red track suit).