I’m Gonna Need a Bigger Shelf

My awards shelves are starting to look slightly ostentatious, which, to be honest, was exactly the look I was going for.  As soon as they are full, I’m going to make a big poster of all of my achievements, and hang it on my bathroom wall.  I know that sounds uncharacteristically modest of me, but the truth is, we have an odd bathroom.  It has a floor to ceiling window in the shower stall, which, if the shower curtain is drawn back, allows anyone in our living room to gaze upon our toiletry area.  So, if I hang my award poster in there, I can pretend that I left the curtain open by accident and all of our guests can exclaim over my blogging prowess.  I’m big on pretending to be humble.

A few of my recent awards are repeats, but you don’t see Susan Lucci returning her Emmy trophies just because she already got one.  What’s that you say?  She only got one?  Well, that just makes my multiples all the sweeter.

I would like to thank each and every one of you who has recently passed the torch to me:

“The Liebster Award” – generously bestowed upon me by the following:

Wish He Was My Dad

Bumpy Road to Bubba

Poet Prodigy 7

The first one to recognize my Liebsterness, though, was Bassa.  So, I will refer you to my acceptance blog for the fulfillment of my Liebster duties.

Not at all humbled by the above, I was then gobsmacked by not one, but two people who gave me the “Tell Me About Yourself” Award.

Miss Demure Restraint

Muddled Mom

For this award, I’m supposed to tell you seven things you don’t know about me.  You know some pretty intimate details, like the size of my bra, from this blog, so it’s a little difficult for me to imagine what you don’t know at this point.

I’m guessing you don’t know: my name, my first dog’s birthday, my social security number, how many A’s I got in high school, why I don’t talk to my mother anymore, who my godmother is, or where on my body my tattoo of a potato happens to be located.

Actually, we’re all out of luck in this department – because I only know the answer to three of those things.  And none of them have anything to do with the tattoo. My sister, Crash, could probably make some great revelations about me in her next comment – I think she might know my name – but she should be painfully aware that I can tell great stories about her, so I doubt she will be too forthcoming.

O.K.  In the interest of being a good sport, here are my 7.  Well, I’m going to give you 8, so you can have a bonus one.  Except one of them isn’t completely true:

I was the president of my sorority.

I never wanted to be in a sorority.

If Wonderbutt and I could stand on a scale together, we would weigh 185 pounds.  As long as I’m nekkid.  But I don’t really want to try to hold Wonderbutt while I’m nekkid.  His claws are a little scratchy.

I make fabulous cheesecakes.

I moonlighted from teaching by waitressing in a Country/Western bar.

I moonlighted from waitressing by teaching in a gangsta neighborhood.

I’m not really married to a pirate.

I’m really married to a pirate, but my husband doesn’t know.

In addition to telling you some things, I am also supposed to recommend 15 other blogs.  However, I have exceeded my self-imposed maximum word count for today, so I am going to be a rebel (reading Whiskey Rebels for my spelling bee is going to my head), and include that in tomorrow’s post – which will reveal yet another award conferred upon me.

Sorry, I’m feeling a little sassy today, what with all of these awards and the fact that we’ve gone a whole week without Wonderbutt chewing up any library books or spectacles.

 

 

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