//
archives

Archive for

Day 14 of 30 day challenge

day 14 – best mashup you’ve ever heard.

Well, this seems a bit asinine, but who am I to judge?

Anyway, I love this.

Advertisements

Call me pathetic, but…

As you may recall, I’ve talked once or twice lately about a contest I’m a finalist in.

There’s this website, http://www.inthepowderroom.com, and the best way I can think of to describe it is like a mom/women online magazine/talk show. They have daily articles that are hilarious, timely, sometimes poignant, and always at least a little thought provoking.


They’ve had a contest to fill a “permanent blogger” spot, which basically means that the winner has a static gig of one published article a week, a spot in the community, and moves up at least six points on the stalkable scale.

I want it, I won’t lie.

I have wanted something like this for years. An audience. Motivation. A reason to watch some TV (you know, for cultural relevance).

Validation.

A “hey, you’re not bad at this, come be a part of us.”

I never said I wasn’t needy.

So, the contest runs until the end of the month. One vote per person/IP address is permitted.

You can vote by clicking here, which should open up your email with the subject “emylibef”. Just send it, that’s a vote.

I’m being featured on the site today, and if you’ve come from ITPR to check me out, then read this because it’s my favorite recent post.

I will work my ass off for this. And as anyone who knows me knows, I don’t have much in the way of ass. Flab I’ve got, but ass is precious.

And mine is yours.

Day 13 of 30 day challenge

I deliberately skipped day 12, because it was about a musical artist’s life story and I thought it was stupid.

So, here goes this:

day 13 – a memory that never fails to make you laugh

Without embarrassing my husband too completely, I will answer this honestly.

Who am I kidding? He married me, he had to expect to be exploited.

Years ago, we lived downtown in a lovely little house. Terrible heating and cooling, and not enough bedrooms, but the location was great, the floors were hardwood, and every time we drive by now we wish we still lived there.

Anyway, one night we didn’t have the kids (there were only two back then, you know, meeeeeemories), Josh broke out a bottle of muscadine wine which I still don’t know why we had. It was made fairly locally and had no alcohol percentage content on the label, so we thought, you know, no way this can end badly.

The wine was like hot nasty liquid shit in a bottle, so I declined more than a sip (and that’s saying a LOT, because I am all about making generous allowances in the name of alcohol). It was late and I was pretty tired, so I soon after went to bed. Josh wanted to watch SlingBlade (because wine and Billy Bob just seems like a natural progression), so he stayed up.

After….I don’t know, an hour? I woke up to strange sounds from the living room…which, in that house, was about 15 feet from where I slept.

“MMMMHMMM.”

……..

“MMMHMMMBISCUITS”

……..

“SHOVEL!”

I got up and steeled myself for whatever I might find (which, dude, we had a ghost in that house. Anything could have been waiting) and opened the door.

All the lights were off, the movie was still playing, and the bottle of wine sat empty in front of my husband, who sat with the biggest shiteating grin I’ve ever seen.

Just that moment, that instant, in my sleepy fog with my husband talking like Karl and grinning for all he was worth like it was Christmas Day and he’d gotten a box of puppies and cheesecake, that is one of the funniest things my warped, seizure addled mind will ever recall in full detail.

“MMMMMHMMM.”

Vkfyrsjlhcs

So I signed up for some email writing courses. I get the emails in the morning and basically thereafter I exist in a cloud of guilt until I complete the day’s assignment.

It’s good. It’s keeping my mind busy.

Also, I’ve made the decision (well, I decisioned a month or so ago) that I want to migrate this blog to be hosted apart from WordPress, giving me more specific control and a better insight to people who actually do read, where they come from, all that.

So in light of that decision, I’ve been fiddling. Servers, hosts, php, SQL.

I have always kind of thought of myself as a pretty technologically sound gal, but…..guys.

I tried yesterday to set up the hosting? It was like being dumped in the middle of Greece with no clue how to speak Greek, except at least in Greece you can get by with being the foreigner and maybe channeling Nia Vardalos.

Not so with web hosts and blogging outside the WordPress cocoon.

I’ve been so sheltered.

So, be warned that soon some things about the website might be a little glitchy and bugsome. Please do not think it a fault of your web browser or service provider or me. It’s all the evil code.

Same as it was

I’ve never been one to thrive on cryptic status messages and song lyrics.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There were days years ago where I posted quotes in Italian and talked in code like nobody could Google.

I was getting the weirds out, ok? We didn’t have the internets in my youths.

What I’m saying is, were I currently given to posting cryptic mystery messages and provoking curiosity, I totally could.

I could say, “You’re so wrong,” or talk about regret and holding grudges. I could passive aggress my way around every issue and I could make the point for anyone who was in the loop. I could never name names and still hit nerves.

But you know what? I did that shit in high school.

I’ve grown.

There are people I was thick as thieves with in high school who I would inconvenience myself now to avoid. People I rode backroads with and snuck wine coolers and Marlboro Lights, who have turned into Bible thumping Republican pageant moms.

So I choose to stay clear of them. I would rather sit home and make doilies than surround myself with people who pain me.

The same goes for organizations who are comprised of people who just enjoy the power they think they have.

And here’s where I get real.

I understand, folks. Maybe you don’t like my husband. Maybe you think he’s an arrogant prick. That’s ok. He’s my arrogant prick. While it’s his choice to allow people to treat him however, I don’t have to stand for it and I won’t. My children will see that I don’t approve of people who exclude others because of hearsay. Or wrongs so old no one even really remembers them.

I get that I am just one person. I’m not a big loss. But I am what I am. And it’s not okay for you to play with people I love.

So….basically all that stuff I just said about how I’m not going to be cryptic and mysterious?

Ignore that.