After my last debacle with trying my pathetic best to design my blog, I had resigned myself to this is as good as it gets. Then by some kind of miracle (something along the lines of the blind being miraculously cured, the paralyzed standing up and walking, the Earth's orbit changing, stuff like that) Chris said I could PAY someone to do my blog design. I think he was half asleep at the time, but if isn't bright enough not to talk in his sleep, that's not my problem.
I contacted Judith Shakes Designs and after a few hundred frantic emails (from me), a few thousand anal requests (also from me) and the patience of a saint (totally her, not me), I have a gorgeous new look. I'm so, so happy with it. It's all crazy and cool and kick ass.
If you're looking for a new design, she's fantastic and totally reasonably priced. Best of all, she's a really cool chick.
Feel free to gush.
Showing posts with label blogging about blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging about blogging. Show all posts
It's my blog and I'll quote Popeye if I want to
Lately there's been all this talk about what is and what is not a mommy blogger. About why we blog, why we do what we do, and why we feel it's necessary to be put in a box (or bust open the seams of said box). I got an email today about yesterday's post. Basically tsk tsking me for talking about vibrators on a mommy blog. This, combined with Aunt Becky's (in case you didn't know, Aunt Becky is the shit. I totally stalk her and you should too. She rocks beyond compare) question, "Why do you blog?" really got me thinking. Who am I really? Where do I fit? Why do I really blog? Am I doing the wrong thing? Am I too "out there"?
I have kids, sometimes I talk about them. That doesn't make me a mommy blogger, at least not what people seem to think mommy bloggers are. If there was some rule that "mommy bloggers" weren't allowed to talk about things like porn or vibrators, no one told me. See the title up there at the top of the page? That's my name. My real name, well the Merritt part, not the ocracy part, that would be a hella weird name. So...my name, my rules. If what I write offends you, don't read it. Because honestly, I don't write for you. And maybe that's not cool for me to say, but it's true. Yes, I love that people read what I write. I love when people leave comments, because it gives me validation that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me. But at the end of the day, I write for me.
I have notebooks full of random shit that just pops into my head. I need an outlet for my crazy, and this is it. They used to have me on Prozac, but this is really much cheaper. You can only tell your friends and family about your random rambling thoughts so many times before people really start to think you're nuts. On my blog, I can be nuts, I can be crazy, because hey, crazy is the new black, right? (See how I just slipped that in there? I should totally be in advertising.) I write because I love to write. I love to have this crazy idea in my head, all jumbled and senseless, and just let it out into a (vaguely) coherent story. I love the process. I love everything about it. I've written for myself for way longer than blogs were popular, and really before the internet was even a "thing", I'm that old, y'all. It's always been my outlet, the only difference between now and then is, now, I have an audience other than my mother (my mom still reads my blog, even though she thinks I'm vulgar).
I'm doing all I can to not apologize for even possibly offending someone, but I'm not going to do it. As a wise sailor once said, "Aye yam who aye yam, and that's all that aye yam."
I have kids, sometimes I talk about them. That doesn't make me a mommy blogger, at least not what people seem to think mommy bloggers are. If there was some rule that "mommy bloggers" weren't allowed to talk about things like porn or vibrators, no one told me. See the title up there at the top of the page? That's my name. My real name, well the Merritt part, not the ocracy part, that would be a hella weird name. So...my name, my rules. If what I write offends you, don't read it. Because honestly, I don't write for you. And maybe that's not cool for me to say, but it's true. Yes, I love that people read what I write. I love when people leave comments, because it gives me validation that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me. But at the end of the day, I write for me.
I have notebooks full of random shit that just pops into my head. I need an outlet for my crazy, and this is it. They used to have me on Prozac, but this is really much cheaper. You can only tell your friends and family about your random rambling thoughts so many times before people really start to think you're nuts. On my blog, I can be nuts, I can be crazy, because hey, crazy is the new black, right? (See how I just slipped that in there? I should totally be in advertising.) I write because I love to write. I love to have this crazy idea in my head, all jumbled and senseless, and just let it out into a (vaguely) coherent story. I love the process. I love everything about it. I've written for myself for way longer than blogs were popular, and really before the internet was even a "thing", I'm that old, y'all. It's always been my outlet, the only difference between now and then is, now, I have an audience other than my mother (my mom still reads my blog, even though she thinks I'm vulgar).
I'm doing all I can to not apologize for even possibly offending someone, but I'm not going to do it. As a wise sailor once said, "Aye yam who aye yam, and that's all that aye yam."
I'm changing my name to Jane...or Charlemagne
This morning I was reading about making money blogging, because Chris says it's time to start making some money with my writing. And as much as Chris likes to think that we're gonna be able to live off the income from my blog (dooce, anyone?) I just don't see it happening, but I figured I'd give it a shot. So I'm looking for handy tips and tricks, when I come across this great site, Absolutely Bananas. She's a mommy blogger/blog tip-giver (that's the actual term you know). Anyway, I was reading about essentials for any blog, and I'm discovering I've taken none of the suggested steps, and I actually suck more than I initially thought. I was reading one suggestion about protecting your privacy and it totally freaked me out. There's this site, called whois that enables you to see all the personal information about the person who has registered the website. Now you'd think since I've had a blog for like a year, I would've known that. I totally didn't. I was like, well, let's test this theory, I'm SURE it's not that easy. Yeah, it's really that easy. I put in my website and it brought back my name and street address. So here I am blogging away, completely oblivious to the fact that my personal information is right out there for the whole world to see.
Then I read this story about a blogger who had posted her baby's pictures and stuff on her blog, and someone stole them and passed them off as her own and just acted like all around wack job. So now I'm totally freaked out. I've always made fun of people who didn't use their kids' names on their blog, like calling them Brussel Sprout and Flowerpot (which is totally what I'm calling my kids from now on), but now I'm thinking maybe I've done the wrong thing. The likelihood of getting a stalker is pretty slim (since I have like 8 daily readers), but I'm freaked out anyway. So I go to godaddy and upgrade my account so that now I'm not listed on this horrible website, and then had this conversation via text messages with Chris, who was beside himself with concern.
Me: That's freakin scary. It doesn't say my address, but it still says my name.
Chris: Well, your name is Merritt, that's gonna be hard to hide.
Me: True...
Chris: I mean, if you search Google for just that, you'll probably find you...
Me: Probably :/ I'm changing my name to Jane.
Chris: Jane Doe?
Me: No, just Jane.
Chris: Oh. Jane is a weird name. Go with one of those fancy names like Charlemagne.
Me: And you think that would help people not identify me because Charlemagne is so much more common than Merritt?
Chris: No, but at least it's cooler than Jane. How about Rambo? I'd totally name my kid Rambo.
Me: You're retarded.
Chris: I know, isn't it wonderful?
Clearly he's overwrought with concern. And on a side note, this is why we're not having more kids. Rambo? So not happening
Then I read this story about a blogger who had posted her baby's pictures and stuff on her blog, and someone stole them and passed them off as her own and just acted like all around wack job. So now I'm totally freaked out. I've always made fun of people who didn't use their kids' names on their blog, like calling them Brussel Sprout and Flowerpot (which is totally what I'm calling my kids from now on), but now I'm thinking maybe I've done the wrong thing. The likelihood of getting a stalker is pretty slim (since I have like 8 daily readers), but I'm freaked out anyway. So I go to godaddy and upgrade my account so that now I'm not listed on this horrible website, and then had this conversation via text messages with Chris, who was beside himself with concern.
Me: That's freakin scary. It doesn't say my address, but it still says my name.
Chris: Well, your name is Merritt, that's gonna be hard to hide.
Me: True...
Chris: I mean, if you search Google for just that, you'll probably find you...
Me: Probably :/ I'm changing my name to Jane.
Chris: Jane Doe?
Me: No, just Jane.
Chris: Oh. Jane is a weird name. Go with one of those fancy names like Charlemagne.
Me: And you think that would help people not identify me because Charlemagne is so much more common than Merritt?
Chris: No, but at least it's cooler than Jane. How about Rambo? I'd totally name my kid Rambo.
Me: You're retarded.
Chris: I know, isn't it wonderful?
Clearly he's overwrought with concern. And on a side note, this is why we're not having more kids. Rambo? So not happening
That's MISS merrittocracy to you
So after channeling my inner sloth for a couple of weeks, I decided I'm totally renewing my commitment to writing as well as my commitment to my little pet, aka, my blog. I figured since it's been a year since I started this blog, it was time for a facelift. Yes, I know I did this a couple of months ago, but I'm retarded and couldn't figure out to code CSS or HTML or some stupid shit that makes your blog pretty. So I'm back with Blogspot, because Blogspot is more for dummies (don't get offended, you know it's easier than Wordpress). I did all the designing, including the header, which goes to show you, Blogspot really IS easier. I only started on this yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, none of the comments transferred over, but I'm still trying to find a way to fix that.
Anyway, new look, new commitment, I figured what the hell, let's just totally change everything! I also have a new url. I'm now missmerrittocracy.com, which is even more kick ass because I don't have to have stupid "blog" in my title. Plus, it makes me feel really important/pretentious/cooler than you. So update your bookmarks, I'll keep the other site up directing y'all to here for awhile.
I'll do a real post tomorrow.
Anyway, new look, new commitment, I figured what the hell, let's just totally change everything! I also have a new url. I'm now missmerrittocracy.com, which is even more kick ass because I don't have to have stupid "blog" in my title. Plus, it makes me feel really important/pretentious/cooler than you. So update your bookmarks, I'll keep the other site up directing y'all to here for awhile.
I'll do a real post tomorrow.
Unicorns, rainbows and flowers. No porn here.
Next Friday (June 5th) is my one-year blogaverasy. It's also incidentally the date of my high school graduation...12 years ago. Man, makes me feel old. Last night I was telling Kat about why she should give up lying to me forever, because ya know, I was a horrible kid and pulled every scam there was to pull, lied, cheated, stole, I was a regular delinquent in every sense of the word, and I'm going to continue to catch her because you can't scam a scammer, reformed or not. Anyway, I'm telling her about all this bad stuff I used to do, and she's like, when was that? I was like, well, I was about 15 or 16, I guess. And she goes, heh, that was a LOOOONG time ago. The child is lucky to not be bald. I had an urge to snatch the hairs right off her mouthy little head, insinuating I'm old. I gave her my "look" (you know the one all moms have that can mean one of any number of things ("watch your mouth", "knock it off" or my favorite, "be careful not to awake the sleeping dragon, young child. She's likely to start breathing fire if you keep it up."). But given her penchant for running out the room in a fit of tween angst and my penchant for taking her cell phone away, we both decided to change the topic. I can't tell if she's just pushing boundaries or honestly being a smart ass. I mean if you spend enough time with me and Chris, the smart assery is bound to rub off a little. I don't know, she makes me so tired. Davey has his issues, but he's so much easier to live with. He's a smart ass, but not in a disrespectful way. He's actually a lot like Chris, and Kat is a lot like me, which is terrifying. Teenage Kat scares the hell out of me. I think I may reserve a space in the mental institution just in case.
Anyway, sorry. I totally derailed there. Blogaversary. In the past 3 weeks or so, my blog traffic has increased, which I think is pretty cool. I also thought it would be a good time to add a "Best of" page. So I asked Chris to give me his favorites and I added a couple of my favorites, so it's a good little list. If y'all think I missed one, let me know. Also, I was looking at the search terms that people have used and gotten to my blog and have realized a couple things: 1. you really can find anything on the internet and 2. people are fucking crazy. For instance:
The most searched term to find my blog is "giant gummy bear". Ok, not too bad, a little strange, but not bad. This is of course referring to my post about the giant gummy bears on a stick and the best stop smoking aid ever.
Then we start to get a little disturbing. We've got stuff like "donut boobs", "cannibal porn" and "freezer porn". I don't think I want to know what cannibal porn is, but clearly Google has misunderstood my post about cannibals in the freezer. Now I don't know about why you'd want to know about donut boobs or what exactly they are, but I did write about getting your boobs off my donut.
So since I'm obviously getting some messed search hits (my favorite was "pollyanna on the outside whore on the inside", which I totally don't remember writing about anything even remotely close to) from now I'm going to write about rainbows, flowers, unicorns and leprechauns. Well not leprechauns, because they're kind of freaky.
Anyway, sorry. I totally derailed there. Blogaversary. In the past 3 weeks or so, my blog traffic has increased, which I think is pretty cool. I also thought it would be a good time to add a "Best of" page. So I asked Chris to give me his favorites and I added a couple of my favorites, so it's a good little list. If y'all think I missed one, let me know. Also, I was looking at the search terms that people have used and gotten to my blog and have realized a couple things: 1. you really can find anything on the internet and 2. people are fucking crazy. For instance:
The most searched term to find my blog is "giant gummy bear". Ok, not too bad, a little strange, but not bad. This is of course referring to my post about the giant gummy bears on a stick and the best stop smoking aid ever.
Then we start to get a little disturbing. We've got stuff like "donut boobs", "cannibal porn" and "freezer porn". I don't think I want to know what cannibal porn is, but clearly Google has misunderstood my post about cannibals in the freezer. Now I don't know about why you'd want to know about donut boobs or what exactly they are, but I did write about getting your boobs off my donut.
So since I'm obviously getting some messed search hits (my favorite was "pollyanna on the outside whore on the inside", which I totally don't remember writing about anything even remotely close to) from now I'm going to write about rainbows, flowers, unicorns and leprechauns. Well not leprechauns, because they're kind of freaky.
Trapped in a freezer with cannibals, whores, porn and other things you hope your Mom doesn't read
I'm kinda working on some site updates, just little tweaks because my blog has had the same look for approximately 2 months, and Lord knows I can't leave well enough alone. Fair warning though, I suck at coding and stuff so you visit and it's broken, don't freak out. I'll eventually figure out how to fix it.
Anyway, so I'm out looking for cool ideas to pirate, and I found a "rate your blog" thingy. So I rated mine, and this is what I got:
Also, incidently, in case you were interested, I can survive for 9 hours trapped in a freezer and if a cannibal ate me I would taste like undercooked fish. Nice to know I guess...in case I ever get trapped in a freezer with a cannibal.
Anyway, so I'm out looking for cool ideas to pirate, and I found a "rate your blog" thingy. So I rated mine, and this is what I got:
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words: crap (8x), porn (7x), retard (6x), whore (5x), hell (4x), ass (3x), murder (2x), hurt (1x)
And that was just a sampling of the first page. Surprising thought that hurt and murder are naughty words and fuck isn't (used 14 times on the front page). Looking at those words make me sound like some wacked out psycho with an affinity for porn and retarded whores... or something equally as disturbing. And you thought this was a mommy blog.Also, incidently, in case you were interested, I can survive for 9 hours trapped in a freezer and if a cannibal ate me I would taste like undercooked fish. Nice to know I guess...in case I ever get trapped in a freezer with a cannibal.
Scrooge McDuck and Magellan do Boston
I don't know if it's just spring fever or I'm just completely lazy, but I've been pretty bad about updating my blog for the last week or so. I suppose I'm just not feeling very bloggy lately. I spent the majority of the week trying in vain to get ready for Kat's cheering competition in Rhode Island. Between packing, cleaning and laundry I was pretty busy. It amazes me that no matter how many loads of laundry I do, it's never done. I must've done about 17 loads last week. Apparently Chris and the kids didn't get the memo that we only wear ONE outfit a day and that just because you try on something for 30 seconds does not make it dirty. Sigh. Anyway, we left early Friday afternoon for Rhode Island. Despite several attempts to buy a GPS, Scrooge McDuck (aka Chris) says it's cheaper to print directions that to buy a GPS, so we used MapQuest...even though MapQuest gives us bad directions ALL the time. Well Scrooge McDuck got exactly what he paid for when MapQuest tried to kill us. Yeah, MapQuest apparently doesn't like the major highways and took us right through the middle of Boston, which we didn't even realize until we came around a corner and find ourselves smack in the middle of the Boston tunnels at freaking 4:15 on a Friday afternoon. Now in case I hadn't mentioned it before, I have a little claustrophobia thing. I also have a fear of being underground in the dark with a bunch of people who'd rather punch you in the face than let you switch lanes. So here we are sitting in bumper to bumper traffic in a fucking tunnel with idiots swerving in and out of lanes, honking horns, flipping people off...holy shit I thought I was going to die. Chris, normally cool, calm and collected, turned off the radio and was like shutupshutupshutup to the kids. He's asking me where to go, and I'm completely freaking out because I'm 110% sure that there's going to be a huge fireball coming through the tunnel any second (a'la Independence Day) and we're all going to die a firey death because we can't escape the tunnel of hell.
Believe it or not, the tunnel didn't explode and did see daylight again...45 minutes later. It was another 45 minutes before we were even out of Boston. Boston sucks. A lot. Finally, finally, finally we got to Rhode Island. We did get lost 3 times from the end of Boston to the Rhode Island state line. The whole time Chris is yelling at me, telling me to read the directions, which I totally was. It said get off at exit 8A, but there was no 8A. It went 9, 8, 7...no 8A. Someone told me later that 8A actually was after exit 6. Well of course it is, because that makes a lot of sense. Anyway, I told him to get off some exit and ask for directions.
Chris: Yeah, thanks a lot Magellan, you've been very helpful.
Me: Well you know what, that's what happens when you're too cheap to buy a GPS. I told you we should get one.
Chris: Yes well, once again you've done a superb job with navigation.
Me: Jackass.
He's referring to last spring when we were going to Six Flags in Massachusetts and I read the directions wrong and we wound up literally in the ghetto...like with real live drug dealers and hookers on the corner. We were supposed to go to a street in Agawam, and I led us to a street of the same name in Springfield. We had to stop at a convenience store next to a bar with one of those LIVE DANCING NUDE GIRLS! signs for directions. He was pretty pissed. He also could be referring to the time that we went to Athens, Georgia and we took a 3 hour detour on country dirt road because I mis-read the map. All we saw were cows and fields for hours and hours. He was pretty pissed. Of course he could be talking about the time that we went to York's Wild Kingdom and I mis-read the map and missed the exit and drove into New Hampshire...twice. He was really pissed that time. It's just a few detours, what's the big deal? And this time it wasn't even my fault, I read the directions right, it was totally MapQuest's fault.
When we got home he started pricing GPSs.
Believe it or not, the tunnel didn't explode and did see daylight again...45 minutes later. It was another 45 minutes before we were even out of Boston. Boston sucks. A lot. Finally, finally, finally we got to Rhode Island. We did get lost 3 times from the end of Boston to the Rhode Island state line. The whole time Chris is yelling at me, telling me to read the directions, which I totally was. It said get off at exit 8A, but there was no 8A. It went 9, 8, 7...no 8A. Someone told me later that 8A actually was after exit 6. Well of course it is, because that makes a lot of sense. Anyway, I told him to get off some exit and ask for directions.
Chris: Yeah, thanks a lot Magellan, you've been very helpful.
Me: Well you know what, that's what happens when you're too cheap to buy a GPS. I told you we should get one.
Chris: Yes well, once again you've done a superb job with navigation.
Me: Jackass.
He's referring to last spring when we were going to Six Flags in Massachusetts and I read the directions wrong and we wound up literally in the ghetto...like with real live drug dealers and hookers on the corner. We were supposed to go to a street in Agawam, and I led us to a street of the same name in Springfield. We had to stop at a convenience store next to a bar with one of those LIVE DANCING NUDE GIRLS! signs for directions. He was pretty pissed. He also could be referring to the time that we went to Athens, Georgia and we took a 3 hour detour on country dirt road because I mis-read the map. All we saw were cows and fields for hours and hours. He was pretty pissed. Of course he could be talking about the time that we went to York's Wild Kingdom and I mis-read the map and missed the exit and drove into New Hampshire...twice. He was really pissed that time. It's just a few detours, what's the big deal? And this time it wasn't even my fault, I read the directions right, it was totally MapQuest's fault.
When we got home he started pricing GPSs.
Hopefully no mom jeans...
In the past couple of weeks, I've been getting more traffic on my blog, search engines are starting to find me, I'm listed on a couple of other blog sites, etc. So I checked my stats for today and I had 8 hits already today and a search engine found me! Kick ass! Nope, hold the kick assery... The person who got to my blog was looking for "retard porn". That means that someone went to their AOL search and typed in "retard porn" and found my blog. Sigh. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with porn. But retard porn? Dude, c'mon. I don't even want to know what retard porn is, or why there's even a market for it. Anyway, this is the post that AOL likes to think is "retard porn".
Now that I've burned that image in your brains, I'm going to do one better: my ass in jeans. Yep, spring is here and I need to go jeans shopping. I love, love, love shopping but absolutely detest trying clothes on in stores. I mean it's enough to send me into catatonia land. The bad lighting that makes you look jaundiced, the fun house mirrors, the three-way mirror...ugh. So I buy the majority of my clothes online to avoid the trauma, plus online you can get great deals on designer and otherwise really expensive clothes that you couldn't if you shopped locally.
So anyway, I'm jeans shopping. Jeans are so, so hard to buy and get the perfect fit. Let's face it, I'm not a size 2, and finding curvy girl jeans that don't make you look like a either stuffed sausage or a potato sack is hard. So I wanted some help. I found these two really cool "jeans finders", the first, Zafu, told me that according to my info, Torrid Jeans are the way to go. I can deal with that. So I click on the link, and my "perfect" jeans are no longer available! No problem, surely Torrid sells more that just one perfect pair of jeans for me...yeah, not so much. Almost all the jeans were skinny jeans. Skinny jeans, in my humble opinion do not belong on ladies with a little extra junk in the trunk, some more wiggle in their jiggle, have the J-Lo butt thing going on or are bigger than a size 4. I personally wouldn't have my big old healthy butt anywhere near these, but I aboslutely applaud the model for wearing them. However, the designer should be taken outside and beaten. They're really not flattering.
So...yeah. Torrid not so much. Let's try this again. The second jeans finder, True Jeans, told me that my perfect jeans are SVOBODA. Hrm, interesting, I've heard legend of these uber-expensive jeans that don't gap in the back, don't bunch in the front and are sheer perfection...but are they really curve friendly? Or are they a clever ruse to hide yet another pair of mom jeans?
From every review I could find, they really are that good and totally worth the money. My ass shall be residing in those...as soon as I can convince Chris that $128 is a reasonable for a pair of jeans.
Wish me luck, or else this will be me in a week...
Now that I've burned that image in your brains, I'm going to do one better: my ass in jeans. Yep, spring is here and I need to go jeans shopping. I love, love, love shopping but absolutely detest trying clothes on in stores. I mean it's enough to send me into catatonia land. The bad lighting that makes you look jaundiced, the fun house mirrors, the three-way mirror...ugh. So I buy the majority of my clothes online to avoid the trauma, plus online you can get great deals on designer and otherwise really expensive clothes that you couldn't if you shopped locally.
So anyway, I'm jeans shopping. Jeans are so, so hard to buy and get the perfect fit. Let's face it, I'm not a size 2, and finding curvy girl jeans that don't make you look like a either stuffed sausage or a potato sack is hard. So I wanted some help. I found these two really cool "jeans finders", the first, Zafu, told me that according to my info, Torrid Jeans are the way to go. I can deal with that. So I click on the link, and my "perfect" jeans are no longer available! No problem, surely Torrid sells more that just one perfect pair of jeans for me...yeah, not so much. Almost all the jeans were skinny jeans. Skinny jeans, in my humble opinion do not belong on ladies with a little extra junk in the trunk, some more wiggle in their jiggle, have the J-Lo butt thing going on or are bigger than a size 4. I personally wouldn't have my big old healthy butt anywhere near these, but I aboslutely applaud the model for wearing them. However, the designer should be taken outside and beaten. They're really not flattering.
So...yeah. Torrid not so much. Let's try this again. The second jeans finder, True Jeans, told me that my perfect jeans are SVOBODA. Hrm, interesting, I've heard legend of these uber-expensive jeans that don't gap in the back, don't bunch in the front and are sheer perfection...but are they really curve friendly? Or are they a clever ruse to hide yet another pair of mom jeans?
From every review I could find, they really are that good and totally worth the money. My ass shall be residing in those...as soon as I can convince Chris that $128 is a reasonable for a pair of jeans.
Wish me luck, or else this will be me in a week...
Bees in the php
So perhaps you've noticed my blog has changed...again. Since my move to wordpress, I've been using a good theme, just not at all customized. So I'm kinda digging my new blog, it's all good, and then I get a bee in my bonnet (yes, I said a bee in my bonnet) about changing it. I read up on it, and from everything I read, it's super easy, wordpress can do anything, blah, blah, blah. All those people who said that are dirty liars. I started this little adventure Thursday afternoon. I worked on it all evening on Thursday. I worked on it all afternoon Friday and until about 1 am Saturday morning. Then Saturday, I woke up at 10 and worked on this freaking blog until 1 am. In case you'd never seen it, this is what obsessive compulsive looks like. Here's what I learned.
1. I'm not nearly as computer-savvy as I thought. In fact I think I'm computer retarded.
2. I don't know the difference between html, css, php, cbs or acdc. I don't know whether I should be backslashing or headbanging. It's all very confusing.
3. I'm way more obsessive than I thought I was. What started out as an excerise in improving my theme turned into a 72 hour ordeal rivaling my trek to the top of Mount Everest.
4. I didn't really trek, climb or ever even get close to Mount Everest, but I know that this programming shit was way harder.
That guy? He totally feels my pain. Anyway, enjoy the new atmosphere, tell me what you think...as long as what you think is that I'm awesome and my hard work was totally worth it because my blog kicks all other blogs' asses...if blogs had asses. If not, go to hell and keep your opinion to yourself. See that computer? Yeah...don't mess with me. I'll php you...or something.
1. I'm not nearly as computer-savvy as I thought. In fact I think I'm computer retarded.
2. I don't know the difference between html, css, php, cbs or acdc. I don't know whether I should be backslashing or headbanging. It's all very confusing.
3. I'm way more obsessive than I thought I was. What started out as an excerise in improving my theme turned into a 72 hour ordeal rivaling my trek to the top of Mount Everest.
4. I didn't really trek, climb or ever even get close to Mount Everest, but I know that this programming shit was way harder.
That guy? He totally feels my pain. Anyway, enjoy the new atmosphere, tell me what you think...as long as what you think is that I'm awesome and my hard work was totally worth it because my blog kicks all other blogs' asses...if blogs had asses. If not, go to hell and keep your opinion to yourself. See that computer? Yeah...don't mess with me. I'll php you...or something.
My daughter the bully
Ok first, how freaking cool is this. Check the address, that's right, MERRITTocracyblog. Meaning, it's all about ME, ME, ME! Totally vain and self important, but honestly, it's never bothered me up to now, why let it start? This is actually a test run, so I can't get too excited. It's only like $5 a month, and I signed up for 3 months. This was a huge undertaking though, because as much as I like to think I'm tech savvy, I'm totally not. I switched to wordpress, which is cool, but I'm still on the learning curve. We'll see what happens with all this.
Ok so, Kat. Bully. Apparently, some little prick picked a fight with Kat on the playground. They were playing in the snow and she "asked" him to move (meaning she told him to get out of the way), he said no, she tried to walk over him and fell into him. So this kid starts pushing Kat, and she's like, oh HELL no. So she pushes him back, right before he punches her in the throat. She pushes him again, but this time a teacher is actually doing her job and paying attention, and starts yelling at them both. The little monster who started the whole thing flipped out and ran off the playground. Not ran inside, not ran away, like ran home. Loser. The teacher like dropped all of her stuff and ran after him screaming.
So a total of 5 kids (including David) saw the whole thing, and they all get pulled into the Assistant Principal's office, and they're all like, yeah, he started it, but Kat pushed him back. At this time, Kat and David are swearing up and down that Kat never touched him. The Assistant Principal is grilling her for like 20 minutes, and finally she goes, well, I MIGHT have pushed him. Apparently I need to teach her about the finer points of lying to teachers, because you never volunteer information! Sheesh. Anyway, the Assistant Principal tells me that Kat is going to be spending recess in her office for 2 days.
Chris and I said next time, make it count. If you're going to get in trouble for defending yourself against a little heathen, might as well make it count. Punch the shit out of him. I don't think that's the message the Assistant Principal wanted me to convey, but c'mon. Who wouldn't be proud of their daughter, the bully.
Ok so, Kat. Bully. Apparently, some little prick picked a fight with Kat on the playground. They were playing in the snow and she "asked" him to move (meaning she told him to get out of the way), he said no, she tried to walk over him and fell into him. So this kid starts pushing Kat, and she's like, oh HELL no. So she pushes him back, right before he punches her in the throat. She pushes him again, but this time a teacher is actually doing her job and paying attention, and starts yelling at them both. The little monster who started the whole thing flipped out and ran off the playground. Not ran inside, not ran away, like ran home. Loser. The teacher like dropped all of her stuff and ran after him screaming.
So a total of 5 kids (including David) saw the whole thing, and they all get pulled into the Assistant Principal's office, and they're all like, yeah, he started it, but Kat pushed him back. At this time, Kat and David are swearing up and down that Kat never touched him. The Assistant Principal is grilling her for like 20 minutes, and finally she goes, well, I MIGHT have pushed him. Apparently I need to teach her about the finer points of lying to teachers, because you never volunteer information! Sheesh. Anyway, the Assistant Principal tells me that Kat is going to be spending recess in her office for 2 days.
Chris and I said next time, make it count. If you're going to get in trouble for defending yourself against a little heathen, might as well make it count. Punch the shit out of him. I don't think that's the message the Assistant Principal wanted me to convey, but c'mon. Who wouldn't be proud of their daughter, the bully.
Fan mail and Beyonce
Just when I was thinking that no one besides my familee read my blog, I got my first piece of fan mail yesterday. I was kind of excited, I just wish the person who sent it didn't remain anonymous. The coolest thing about fan mail is the lengths people will go to to make sure you don't know who they are (they don't want to seem stalkerish or anything). This fan of my blog created a bogus email account and used the name of a person I actually know, and then sent me this love letter.
I just wish they hadn't gone to all that trouble. I mean, I'm truly flattered. To show my sincere appreciation, and because I can't thank them personally, I'll give them the gift of a gay man imitating Beyonce. Watch and enjoy Secret Admirer, it'll make you smile, just like you make me smile.
I just wish they hadn't gone to all that trouble. I mean, I'm truly flattered. To show my sincere appreciation, and because I can't thank them personally, I'll give them the gift of a gay man imitating Beyonce. Watch and enjoy Secret Admirer, it'll make you smile, just like you make me smile.
Second try
Apparently the whole blogging thing kinda got away from me for awhile. I indulged in some summer fun, and of course the flurry of back-to-school activities.
Davey is finishing up his first season of tackle football. He's the best little offensive lineman you've ever seen...and weighs in at a whopping 58 lbs. That's ok though, who says you have to be a behemoth be a great football player? Kat did football cheering, which is so low-key after All Star cheering, it's like watching grass grow. But I did my dutiful best to cheer them both on, and of course Chris was right out there on the field coaching David, so it's been a family affair.
Davey is finishing up his first season of tackle football. He's the best little offensive lineman you've ever seen...and weighs in at a whopping 58 lbs. That's ok though, who says you have to be a behemoth be a great football player? Kat did football cheering, which is so low-key after All Star cheering, it's like watching grass grow. But I did my dutiful best to cheer them both on, and of course Chris was right out there on the field coaching David, so it's been a family affair.
Merritt the Blogger
So here's me...joining the world of the blogger. In a world of emails, text messages and cellphones, this almost seems like a natural progression. Perhaps it's just laziness, but isn't this just so much more efficient than getting out the pen and paper and writing until your hand goes numb? I'm thinking though, this is a great way to communicate with family and friends that I just don't get to talk to often. But again...it's probably mostly laziness because I suppose I could send a card, or pick up the phone. Lazy or not, here I am. Merritt the Blogger.
