Is it possible to be so far behind in your work that you get lapped by yourself? Like in High School when that skinny bitch would fly by you on lap 5 and there were still 17 to go. (Did I ever mention I was on some drug-induced psychosis that made me run the 10K on a track? That’s 22 and a half laps in a circle. “Hamster on a wheel” comes to mind or maybe even Smashing Pumpkins “Bullet with Butterfly Wings: Rat in a cage” is more befitting.)... Read more
Since I think I’ve pretty much exhausted my Brutally Honest-ness for the week on Saturday’s post, and since I have a deadline on Friday and no nanny (read: copious amounts of caffeine and green tea pills) and there are still a
hundred emails to reply to, I’m keeping it simple.
You want to see my stats? Or you want to see my fugly dress?
FUGLY DRESS WINS.
The Next Big Thing is in the works. Things may be spotty around here for a bit.
But! I leave you with this! For your viewing pleasure. :: snort ::
Do I... Read more
Popularity. Fame. Money. Drama.
I think Mom101 said it best, “We don’t have to be ashamed about what we do or why we do it. Whether we blog for money or friendship or approval or attention or magical beans. I said it in the first Momosphere panel and I meant it: It’s all good.”
The hate blogs, the jealousy, the gossip; It’s a bi-product of mixing fame, money and popularity in a tiny tiny space called Your Computer. We’re exposed. We’re... Read more
I just signed up my daughter for swimming. On the surface, this sentence isn’t anything fantastic. The reality is, though, that swimming here is very “cut throat”. This is the third session I’ve either stayed up late or gotten up very very early to sign her up online. My heart races. My knees shake. Picture 1984 Cabbage Patch Kid Craze where parents are yelling, “Back of, bitch!” as the doors open to Toys R Us.
As the page loaded with only one spot left I practically yelled out, “BACK OFF, BITCH”
I’m not a horrifically... Read more
You know how when you return from a trip and your husband says, “so how was it?” and then you spend EXACTLY six hours spreading out every detail with him sitting next to you on the couch trying to flick his eyes to the TV because deargodsheisstilltalkingaboutBlogHer? And you know how all of your friends are like, “did you have fun?” and then you spend EXACTLY seventeen hours recounting every details because they are better listeners and even still they flick their eyes to anything else because deargodsheisstilltalkingaboutBlogHer?
I’ve already told... Read more
Draft #5: I’ve tried four times previous to write my first Post-BlogHer-Post. I’ve spent an hour typing A H R E F = BLAHBLAHBLAH and deleting the entire post. I’ve struggled to compile my photos in to some sort of order that I can share. I’ve been sitting here organizing work but getting sucked back in to drafts for this post.
I think I’m speechless.
I’ll find the words. I’ll find the photos. I’ll find the URLs and I’ll try not to leave anyone out. In the mean time, I will share this short video
With so much history packed in to a 5MB MySQL... Read more
Visa Debit Cards.
(Look! No BlogHer Post!)
(Wait, does that count? I just wrote BLOGhER)
(Shit. I Did it again.)
The End. (AGAIN.)Read more
Look, I sympathize, I do. I sat home years in a row watching people I would DIE to see (caps on DIE because I mean it for emphasis not actually as in keel over) go to a conference and meet each other and laugh and have cheezburgers and DAMNTHEM. Except I didn’t damn them. I wanted to go. I was a little bit jealous. But I was secure in my own self and I knew one year I’d go, too. And if I didn’t, it was ok. They were still my favorite bloggers/friends/girl crushes.
This year, though, I’m going. And I’d like to tote you alone with me in my laptop.
During my years teaching at the college level, I had a few unfortunate run-ins with a type of student that is becoming too prevalent in our society. You know, the “do nothing earn an A” types. You all know the type: The student that never makes class, somehow manages to blame the instructor and cries until he gets an A? And by cry, I mean Real Tears And All, people.
It’s not just the old “My dog ate my homework” excuse. It’s deeper. It’s every day. Every assignment. Every test.
Not al kids are this way but talking to old Professors,... Read more