The hubs and I were watching Harry Potter last night and stopped it to have a very serious discussion about – wait for it – what our patronuses would be. After much consideration and debate, I have decided that my patronus would either be a platypus or a sasquatch. Or maybe, just maybe, a bottle of bourbon (I figure it might get the dementors drunk so I could run away).
Okay, so I was nominated for The Creative Blogger Award by TriSARAHtops, which I’m taking to mean that I am Mary Poppins (“practically perfect in every way”). Sarah is quirky and honest and has categories like “Childhood Traumas” and “Pretentious Self-Reflection” which should tell you that she’s kind of kickass. So check out her blog and laugh at what her dad has put her through.
The rules for the Creative Blogger Award are:
- Nominate a blog(s) and notify all nominees via their social media/blogs (nominate however many you want!)
- Thank and post the link of the blog that nominated you
- Share five facts about yourself to your readers
- Pass these rules on to them
- Proudly display the Creative Blogger image in your post
I’m going to nominate two blogs myself. The first is Primitive and Proper, because it’s the Creative Blogger Award, and I feel like I should nominate someone crafty. This is actually a woman I barely knew in college, but I was really good friends with her now-husband. In fact, he and I took a week long road trip to visit some friends and my then-boyfriend and nearly punched each other senseless in a punchbuggy war. I think my left arm is still bruised, 16 or 17 years later. Since her husband, like most guys,
sucks at keeping in touch has a very busy life, and since she, like many women, is way better at updating her Facebook page, she and I have actually become friends and I know way more about what’s happening in her life than his. I probably wouldn’t even know they had kids if it weren’t for her. They named their daughter Emerson and call her Emmy and I totally pretend that they secretly named her that so that it’d be close to my name because they love me so much (ignore the fact that I haven’t seen either of them in close to 15 years). Anyway, check out her blog because she’s got a ton of kickass home renovation and furniture rehab DIY stuff on there.
The second blog I’ll nominate is Rachel Being Chatty – not because she’s an artist or crafter or anything, but because that bitch is hilarious. In particular, her Deep Thoughts threads kill me – but in a good way. She’s not really violent or anything. Though she could be trying to sneak attack me. I did laugh once and have tea come out of my nose while reading her blog, which isn’t that different from choking to death, I guess. Maybe you should read her blog but make sure there aren’t any beverages around when you do it.
Now for the 5 facts about myself:
1. I’m terrified of the phone. I can text on it, sure, but actually answering the phone takes an act of bravery each and every time. I once worked as a receptionist and I lived in terror for those 6 months or so. Especially because it was always someone angry on the other end of the phone because I was working at a law firm full of people who didn’t return calls (maybe they were afraid of the phone, too?). Shudder. I may have nightmares tonight just thinking about it. So if you’re someone I love and I’m bad about calling you or answering when you call me, please understand that it’s not personal. It’s a phobia. So send me a nice letter instead (preferably attached to a box with a present inside).
2. I like boxes with presents inside – especially if the present is a pony. Or a platypus. Oh oh oh – or Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory! I would LOVE to have a bunch of employees who were actually shorter than me!
3. I have a freckle on my left big toe that I’m very proud of. I grew it myself. It’s as fond of silly socks as I am.
4. I don’t consider myself to be a writer. Mostly I’m just someone with verbal diarrhea that comes out through their hands onto a keyboard or a canvas. Oh, and someone incredibly vain who thinks people give a shit what I have to say.
5. I once won a burping contest. Against boys.
So there you have it. Go check out those bloggers and tell them they’re Mary Poppins, too.
Is it just me, or is kind of hard to tell the difference between the front and back ends of a platypus?
Also, did you know that the places where platypuses live in zoos are called platypusaries? Say it out loud. What a great word. I just made your whole week, didn’t I?
The hubs, S, still has not read any of my posts, so here is lie #3 about my husband: he is a pimp…for platypuses. He goes to zoos and parades lady platypuses in front of the horny teenager platypuses and the rich but lonely older platypuses. The poor lady platypuses have to wear really uncomfortable hooker heels and fishnets (actual fishnets, not fishnet stockings – they are aquatic creatures, after all). When they start throwing sand dollars (aquatic money, you know) at S, he lets them have the lady platypuses. This is actually very dangerous work, because did you know that male platypuses have venomous spurs? No shit. I’m not even kidding. Look it up, I’ll wait…I know, right?! I just totally jacked up your world, didn’t I? There you were going about your day, blissfully thinking that platypuses were just silly creatures to be mocked, but no, they’ll take you down, motherf*cker! Don’t mess with a platypus. Unless it’s not breeding season, in which case, apparently, the spurs are no longer secreting venom. How messed up is that??
So anyway, yeah, my husband is a platypus pimp.
Okay, let me start by being honest, because if I’m not that, then this is all kind of pointless, which it might be anyway, but I won’t know until I try, right? I hate writing. Hate. Writing. It’s not that I’m bad at it or anything. I just really don’t enjoy the process because my low back starts threatening to murder me if I sit too long in a chair at the computer typing, and my hand starts threatening all-out war (reminding me that there are 5 fingers on it and just one of me) if I write by hand instead of typing. Come to think of it, both hands threaten to join the fight from typing, too. And I need my hands because, well, life, you know? Add to that the fact that I already have to be at the computer large parts of the day because I own and run a business, and that I am a painter, which requires my right hand to be happy and healthy, and I resist something like starting a blog. But I have been assured by multiple people that the only way to get your art out there in this day and age is to have a blog. Plus, I have a friend who is kind of coaching me on the marketing side of things, and he’s a damn tyrant (just kidding, love you, Steve) and has insisted that I blog at least once a week. I’m assuming that when my hands crap out and my low back acts on its death plots, those people will be there to pump large quantities of pain killers through my system, or at least say something really freakin’ funny (because laughter is the best medicine, after all…except for Sonata. Sonata is goooood.) So, here we are.
Let me also be honest about the fact that I have no idea what I’m going to talk about on a regular basis. It might be art. It might be dementia. It might be platypuses (platypi?). There’s just really no telling what kind of verbal diarrhea is going to come out. Can it be verbal if it’s coming out of your hands? Hand-al diarrhea? Or is it coming out of my brain? Brain-al diarrhea? How did I just end up typing “diarrhea” that many times in one paragraph? Wow, we’re off to a rocky start. I think I should end with a poll for how many times it’s appropriate to use the word “diarrhea” in one blog. Let me know in the comments:
1) It is never acceptable to use the word “diarrhea” in a blog.
2) It should be used as many times as possible, but only in a medical context.
3) It is allowable to use it whenever you want, but please don’t make up words like Hand-al and Brain-al.
4) Thank you for spelling it correctly. I never can.