Tuesday, May 8, 2012
May I Tell You Something About Me? [Explicit]
Sara McClung's Blog Me Maybe blogfest and was entirely captivated by the "Maybe" aspect of it. Because that's pretty much my motto when it comes to blogging (Or lately, more like "probably not.") But now I feel like a toad since I signed up and haven't yet participated.
So...I've been thrashing my brain to come up with a post about me (since it's Tuesday and that's today's prompt). Actually there is something heartfelt I want to tell you. It might explain for you why I haven't been blogging much. But every time I've tried to write it, the words seemed all wrong on the page. So I will save that for a vlog, perhaps. The problem is every time I come up with something else to write, I nix the idea as too boring or stupid or wayyyy TMI. And with nothing left, I can only do what remains. Tell you something that is boring, stupid and TMI.
I don't yet have any tattoos. No, that's not the TMI thing. But I made a rather cliched pact with the universe that when I publish a book I will get a tattoo. Still not the TMI thing. I don't really know what the tattoo will be. I have several books, see--so it depends which book publishes (first). Maybe it'll be a tattoo of a rose that starts with one petal, and every time I publish a new book, I add a petal (man, I'm clever). Or maybe it'll be a Chinese character that I think means "peace" but actually turns out to mean "broccoli." Or maybe it will actually be broccoli. Not sure.
But I'm thinking I'll put it somewhere less conspicuous so as not to freak out Moms o' Suburbia. Or my own mother. So, you know, not my cheek bones or my knuckles (not the first tattoo, anyway). I don't really want it to be on my lower back either, or anywhere on my backside, because then I have to look in the mirror to see it. I don't want it on my feet, because ouch. So, I've decided it will go...dun dun dunnnnnn...
Yeah, I can't tell you. So I'll tell you something else.
When people really tick me off for being jackholes, I try very hard not to get visibly angry. Not always easy (such as the time I really let a lifeguard have it for asking my kiddo to get out of the pool so she could take a fifteen minute break after she'd spent the last hour on her cell phone while simultaneously plowing down Cheese-Its), but usually I manage. I'll smile, even, and tell you to have a nice day. And then I'll thank you very much in a garbled, less than intelligible way that is remarkably satisfying for me and won't have me hauled off to jail for yanking your ears off your face. I learned this trick from Lily Allen, actually--from a song of hers. I'd post it for you, but it's a bit (a lot) explicit and this is a pg-13 blog.
But I will post the link to the video. Just because I think we all need to learn this trick. And we all need a happy song we can listen to after a jackhole encounter.
F#$% You Very Much by Lily Allen*
*It is very explicit. If you don't like bad words, skip the link.