Tag Archives: blogging

Feb 05 2012
6 Comments
Humorous, Lists, Three minute read

Snotting Gold, Pure Gold.

As of last Thursday, I was graciously nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by one blogger known as Leo Rex.  With pride and a bit of trepidation, I now join the legions of bloggers who have also received said award. Though we number in the thousands, let us not forget the hundreds of thousands of bloggers who are still versatile blogger award-less. To these undecorated participants in the blogosphere, I say:

“One day someone besides your mother or father will read your blog, have a blog themselves, and decide to nominate you for this award. That day might not be soon, and we might be able to inject internet into our veins by then and have mandatory blogs that are monitored by the World Government, and these awards might even be handed out by that same government organization in order to keep up the illusion of free will and creativity, but the day will come, so hang in there.”

As per the award guidelines, I shall proceed to nominate some other blogs for the award and talk about myself. With further ado, here are the blogs that I nominate for this award. I realize that many, if not all of them, have received this award before and I’m not sorry for renominating them. They should know that I sincerely enjoy reading their blog and who cares if the versatile blogger award links pile up in their comment boxes like dusty term papers in the office of a professor who is having an out of state affair. Also, if you haven’t heard of them you might like them too.

1. Damp Squid-Recently fresh pressed. Well done, fellow blogging comrade.

2. The Good Greatsby: Getting the word out about this blog is like spreading news about Lady Gaga.

3. El Guapo: He writes limericks sometimes. You’ve been warned.

4. Linda Vernon Humor: Humor you can write home about.

5. The Life and Times of Nathan Bradley: I’ve found it good for the ha has.

6. @Grumpy Comments: Sunny D in blog form. Just kidding. It’s a grumpy-funny fest.

7. The Waiting: I hope her baby will be able to write as well as her.

8. Your Stupid Advice: Great for those times you want to be berated for asking the questions you were afraid to ask.

And now I get to shamelessly share facts about myself.

1. My first unrequited love was Conan O’Brien.

2. I only have 4 pills left in the course of antibiotics I’m taking for my ear infection.

3. When I lived in Denver, I would steal quarters from my Dad’s wooden fish bowl that he kept change in. I was only 4 or 5 but I felt guilty about that for a long time. This is my confession to him.

4. This might be a little gross but I like to watch the hair accumulate in my hairbrushes so I can see how much I’ve been shedding. When I finally clean it out it looks like a bird’s nest.

5. Sometimes I use my sister’s toothbrushes without asking/telling them. This usually happens when I don’t want to get my own toothbrush out after I get back from traveling.

6. I like to eat most foods with my little spoon. I try not to be possessive of it, but one time I saw someone eating with it and I had to suppress anger.

7. If I could, I would wear the same outfit every day. This outfit would include a helmet.

Thanks for the award, Leo Rex!

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Jan 21 2012
6 Comments
Fiction, Humorous

It’s a New Freaking Theme

How raw? Uneaten food raw.

Is this a rant? You tell me.

And if you think I’m going to apologize for writing this ridiculously long sentence with poor syntax you better get your mind right and in fact I might make this entire post a single sentence, even though many people would advise against this and say that it’s sloppy writing and that I need to edit it but what do you know. I may have edited that sentence a hundred times, or thousands of times, my life blood spilling out into the words as I painstakingly edit them with the q-tip of my cursor until I form a smiley face of blood on a paper plate that’s stained by pulled pork grease. Too graphic? You better believe it. I’ve got a new WordPress theme and it’s a freaking new day.

You may have noticed I decided not to write this entire post as one sentence. It did sound sloppy, so I stopped, but not because I’m scared, because I don’t get scared anymore. I left the above paragraph because I wanted part of the process to remain visible, like the paint on a weathered dresser or a slightly undercooked egg that you really want to enjoy but you just can’t.

Because I’m being real.

There are a lot of changes going on around here, and with this bright new WordPress theme, things are about to get unpleasant. They’re about to get dirty and disgusting, and the teal accents on the left side of this very post have no idea what they’re about to complement.

I’ve never felt so ready to delve into the very depths of humanity itself, to sift through the garbage dumps of the human heart and spray the refuse out onto the hot city sidewalk of the blogosphere for the entire world to see. It’s going to stink, and with this new layout, you’ll be able to smell it from a mile away.

Sure this theme is fresh, friendly, accessible, and simple.  But it’s about to get nasty raw. This is not your rare prime rib kind of raw or crunchy potato raw. It’s going to be the pink, flabby raw of uncooked chicken or the grotesque red of a ground beef sliding down a glass door. It’s going to be uncomfortable.

I don’t care who has used this theme before and how amiable it seemed. This blog experience is about get intense. And I’m not sorry to those who use this same theme. I didn’t copy you. Well, you know what? Maybe I did copy you. I thought your blog looked nice, and I said to myself, “This layout seems easy to read and user-friendly. I’m going to take it and make it really offensive.”  Are you really surprised that I’m using it when it’s one of the most popular themes on WordPress? Just look at how airy and crisp it is. It’s an f-ing treasure, and I’m going to take it and twist it into something it was never intended to be.

Blogosphere, get ready for the raw, the rude, and the objectionable* to be presented to you in the most delightful of ways. You’ll never know what hit you.

*Disclaimer: actual change is unlikely. Author saw fit to use theme change as a post topic.

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Dec 30 2011
4 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Three minute read

The Job I Want

What I would wear as a professional square dancer, sans backpack

I just finished the book my mom had forced me upon me in an attempt to help mold my ethereal career path. It was a book called Quitter, in which Jon Acuff outlines the process of chasing, catching, and devouring your dream career. Aside from the fact that the book was casually written and could have used a good edit—this coming from a girl who is the published author of nothing—I found its advice helpful.

I am certain, however, that much like Plato in The Republic, Jon Acuff was advocating the opposite of what he stated directly. He encouraged people to be smart, evaluate risks, and continue working hard at one’s day job, all of which I interpreted as, “Follow your impulses, throw caution to the wind, and treat your co-workers like crap and your current job like the joke it is*.”

That brings me to my next point: skinny jeans.

I was astonished when I finished the book and found that Acuff had not addressed wardrobe renewal. Since wardrobe is the most important part of a career and because of “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have*,” I decided to update my wardrobe to match my dream of moving to San Francisco and being an indigent writer.

In a bold first move, I purchased a pair of dark skinny jeans. This inaugural pair of denim marks my transition from the oh-so-square world of boot leg and flare jeans to the hip, edgy, sub-world of skinny pants wearers. For years I have resisted this trend, and finally I realized that it was obstinacy in the denim department that was holding back my writing career.

As I wear these skinny jeans and they slowly age, fading, fuzzing, and developing holes in various places, I will not be able to replace them because I will be poor. These might very well be the only pair of skinny jeans that I will be able to afford for the next 5-7 years. However, the ragged appearance will only add to my credibility as an author and therefore this is a great investment.

In addition to the skinny jeans, I should also make improvements in other areas such as hair symmetry. My hair style is currently symmetrical, or rather, boring as all hell. Since hair-dos are the cherries on clothing sundaes, I will need to edge it up by going asymmetrical and highlighting its asymmetry with neon. This will, of course, be accompanied by a nose ring instead of a nose stud. I’ll know I’ve hit the mark when I get at least one or two blatant gasps out of my grandparents.

Final touches will include tattoos I can’t afford and a tube top, though I’m not sure if indigent writers wear those or not. More research is necessary. I also can’t decide if smoke-stained teeth are mandatory or merely a plus, but I’ll be sure to learn more after my initial visit to the West Coast in a few weeks.

Thanks for the career book, Mom! Can’t wait to go shopping! Can I borrow some money?

*Joke semi-borrowed from Parks and Recreation, a wonderful show

*Just to be clear, he doesn’t recommend those things, and the book  is actually good.

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Oct 06 2011
4 Comments
Anecdotes, The Cairo Metro, Two minute read

I Am the Shwarma

200 people fit in here

I thought I had beaten the topic of the Cairo metro to death, that all the humidity, sweat, inexplicable haze, and involuntary contact with strangers had been discussed to its furthest extent. But I was wrong, pathetically wrong, and today I touched, tasted, smelled, and saw the depth of my ignorance.

Though I did not think it was physically possible, metro use has increased due to strikes on other forms of public transportation. Practically, this means the metro cars turn into a more treacherous, sweaty, place than they have been. People and children under 4 feet tall stand a good chance of suffocating should they dare to ride.

This morning, the women’s metro car rolls up, and it is already stuffed to the gills. I can almost see a puff of steam emerge as the doors open and a few fight their way off the train, leaving just under enough space for me. I and a few others shove our way on, our body masses absorbed into a greater entity created out of metro riders like a giant shwarma leg. A woman had to suck in her stomach in order for the door to close, and I thought to myself, “the fate of this entire train just depended upon the extra 3 inches of that woman’s newly concave stomach. Lord help us.”

For the next 6 minutes, I was tossed about like a baby at a potluck. Though I wasn’t holding onto anything, it didn’t matter since it was impossible to move independently of the nest of people I was firmly snuggled into. As a result, I was pushed against my will several times into a woman standing next to the door. I thought she realized I was powerless in the matter, but finally, at the stop where we and 80 percent of the train were exiting, she said, “Why are you pushing me?! I swear I’m getting off!”

Had I the language skills, I wish I could have cooed, “Yes, friend. I am pushing you because I alone out of the countless women here in the car can move of my own free will and I have decided to use this power to pester you, oh chosen one. I am glad you are ignoring the kinetic thread of female bodies behind me that might transfer energy and placed blame directly on me for your discomfort because I am, in fact, completely responsible. I am also malicious and worthy of your hatred.”

The metro doors open at Sadat and “plop!” a mass of women is spurted out onto the platform. Someone hits me in the back, and I’m not sure whether it was on purpose or whether they had temporarily lost control of their arm because of metro fever. As I was ascending the escalator  I thought to myself, “I’ve got to blog about this.”

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