Saturday, January 16, 2016

A better blog. Not the new name. But there's swearing!

I can't think of a better blog name this week. Maybe I can just name it A better blog.
Maybe I'll try again next week.

My big thought today is about cursing, swearing and doing so to be well, real, or whatever.

Swearing in blogs. 

All the cool people do it. Except me. I think if I did, I'd probably have more readers, because I'd be the cool anti-mom who swears. Only most moms I know swear, so I think it's the pretend cool anti-mom all the other moms love to read because they all pretend they don't swear. I actually don't swear a lot. But I think-swear a lot. And I like to use British words that are close to swears. Like, Bollocks. I love Bollocks. I love the way it sounds when said right. It sort of rolls of the tongue and sounds much more definitive and authoritative than bullshit. Bollocks is a word that makes you notice the ridiculousness of something whereas bullshit is just something people say when they're angry about random things like going to a theater and finding out all the tickets to your favorite show are sold out because everyone but you reserved a seat three days ago. Bollocks is reserved for when you're at happy hour and the one guy/gal that knows everything is spouting out random thing like the next virus to kill the majority of mankind will come from hamsters. A good, hearty "Bollocks" (because bollocks must always be said in bold) will end the conversation right there, whereas "That's bullshit" will invite a retort ' "No, it's true, hamsters are in households everywhere, innocent carriers of the next incurable virus... death pets." I also love Spatchcock. That's not an actual swear word, or even British, but it sounds like one. It's a legit word referring to ripping the spine out of poultry and crushing the breastbone. I'm going to start using it. "Look, you knock this heck-n-crap off, or I will spatchcock your ass." But I would mean, really, spine, and breastbone. And I just said ass. So I do swear. See? I'm cool. But not anti-mom. I'm not mom or anti-mom. I'm just relieved my boys are in middle school and can get their own snacks and be left alone for a while so I can think of clever ways to use spatchcock without making it look like I'm trying deliberately to use the word spatchcock. The best smoked turkey we ever had was spatchcocked. That's an appropriate use of the word spatchcock. But I like using it as a threat. There really isn't a response to being threatened with spatchcocking.


I was chatting with a friend and we were talking about how we don't realize how much we actually get done in a day. This is true of everyone. Except people who lay about on couches and watch daytime television all day. And then the people that lay about on couches watching nighttime television all night.

Things I've done this week:

**Went to Target and did NOT buy a journal... it was an awesome journal with an image of a typewriter outside with butterflies flitting around it. Walking away was hard.

**Came up with a new angle on my other sci-fi story, the first draft that's completed thank you very much. Will work that out later today or tomorrow. Have to get the first chapter polished by Feb. 1 though, because I entered a contest. My concern is this story is so unique and 'out there' that I don't know if it'll go over well. Because, I'm deep.

**Wrote more my YA Space Adventure story which is a story that reflects my inner-adventuring-12-year-old and isn't deep at all.

**Ran! And attempted Julian Michael's Yoga Meltdown. Totally melted down during the dolphin.  Like a tuna melt only with dolphin meat. Like I was the dolphin trapped in the net, and now I'm covered with cheese and melting in an oven while Jillian Michael's doing weird body contortions on screen and I'm like, that should be me!

Things that happened in the world that I care about:

Grizzly Adams died, too!

Bowie, Rickman, and now Haggerty? I loved Grizzly Adams. Think I've seen every episode. It was the first time I thought about running away and living in the mountains. I think, truly, I was misplaced at birth. I do not think I was ever meant for urban life. If I didn't have the mountains and trails here, I'd probably die of urban-exposure. I know Haggerty isn't quite up there with Bowie and Rickman in terms of changing the face of music for a couple of generations of music lovers, or showcasing phenomenal acting skills as a villain you can't help but hate so much you love him. But for me, personally, Grizzly Adams with it's two-year run has left a permanent mark on my life. I also wanted a pet bear for a while.


Well, this is a 'safe space' so lets just leave that out there. Except if Trump wins. Then I'm moving to Canada  because then all hope I ever had in my future or my children's future will be lost. Oh, and my friends. They'll need a room, too. I mean, really, there's a lot of land in Canada that isn't populated due to inhospitable cold and such, but I think there's a few million of us who'd be more than happy to give it a go if needed. I mean, Siberia's got people... And I feel bad for Canadians, because I recognize they probably don't want a million Americans running north infesting their lands with our Americanism, which is why Canada should do it's part to encourage all Americans living in their lands not to get lazy with their voting habits this election. Mail-in your ballots.

Powerball sadness

I commented to a friend about how awful it would be if you think you won the powerball, because you had the winning numbers but for the week previous. That actually happened and I feel for those people because I couldn't imagine believing that all the answers to whatever problems I thought the Powerball could solve were solved, and then have to wake up and realize that nope, your life is still yours.

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