Blog Archives

Do You Have a Bucket I Can Borrow?

Holy Sith!  I am 3 posts away from my big Blogiversary.  How did this happen?  How did time go by so suddenly?

How do I not have a Big Party planned?

I had every intention of doing something totally wild.  Completely different.  Now, here I am with no plans, no ideas, and no creativity left in my body after nearly one whole year of blogging every single day.

And, to top all of that off, I have completed absolutely nothing on my blogging bucket list.  I still don’t have buzzillion subscribers, no publisher or agent has offered me a contract, AND MY DOG STILL PEES IN THE HOUSE!  I have not made one ounce of progress in 362 days.  And I doubt things will change in the next 3.

On the other hand, I accomplished plenty of things that were not on my list.

  • My professional blog, which I do not promote at all in the blogosphere, had more hits each day of last week than this one.  I did not post at all on my professional blog last week.  Not once.  And people still read it more than this one.  Yep.  That stings.
  • My bulldog, Wonderbutt, has learned how to text.  It’s quite phenomenal, but David Letterman still has not invited either one of us to appear on “Stupid Pet Tricks”.  Big mistake, Letterman.  We’re talking goldmine, Baby.
  • If I yell, “Cap’n Firepants!” in the house, my husband will know that I am talking to him.  And, come running.  Because he does not want to be negatively reflected on my blog.  I’m sure he is wishing now that we had drawn up a Pre-Nuptial Agreement that specifically forbade me to blog.  And denied me a driver’s license.  He hates my driving.  Worse than my blogging.  He would happily change the name on his driver’s license to Mr. Cap’n Firepants if I promised to never drive again.  Maybe.
  • My daughter, Dimples, yells, “And you can’t put that on your blog,” immediately after she does anything that might be perceived as embarrassing.  I tell her, “That wasn’t in our Pre-Natal Agreement.”  She doesn’t know what the heck I’m talking about.  Which is actually not a new problem, unfortunately.
  • I figured out where Malawi is, because I have exactly one reader there.  Moni, Amayi.  That is supposed to mean, “Hello, Madam” in Malawi.  I think.  If it means something crude, I apologize.
  • I am mad at David Sedaris.  At a local appearance, he told an audience member who asked for advice on becoming a writer, “Write every day.”  I now realize that this does, indeed, make me a writer.  But NOT A PAID ONE.  I think that was implied in the question, Mr. Sedaris.  I mean, I know you’re probably sick of that question, and you don’t want to give away any major secrets, but I think you could give us a bit more direction than that.  Sheesh. That would be like someone asking me, “What should I do to become a teacher?”, and me saying, “Teach your dog how to text.”  No, that’s a bad analogy.  BECAUSE YOU WOULD MAKE MONEY IF YOU TAUGHT YOUR DOG TO TEXT!!!!

So, now that I have spent a year filling the wrong dang bucket, I guess I need to decide if I am going to dump it out and start over – or just look for a new bucket.  Or just put the bucket over my head and bang it against the wall.  Yeah, that sounds good.

My original bucket. Getting filled.
photo credit: Simczuk via photo pin cc

I Hope to Win the Craftsman Cup of Carpentry

I have been a bit remiss in replying to comments, but I’ve been even worse about keeping up with awards, lately – which is completely unlike me, I assure you.  The only reason that I have not been bombarding you with all of my recent accolades is because I have been trying to build a new shelf for displaying the abundance of  honors that have recently been flooding my inbox.  If you have visited my WhatILOVE2ShowOff Page (there is a link at the top of the site in case you didn’t notice), then you have seen that my first awards shelf is full.  I played with the idea of renting out a few billboards to display my newest acquisitions, but I don’t want to make you drive all over the United States looking for them.  So, I settled for cobbling myself a new shelf.  And, despite my many obvious gifts and talents, construction has taken a bit longer than I anticipated.

Anyway, the shelf is now done, and it shall be placed on my WhatILOVE2ShowOff Page without delay.

Oops, where are my manners?  Here is the link to the page in case you want to stalk visit it on a regular basis.


Oh, yes.  I should probably thank the people who recognized my great talent and bestowed these honors upon me along with the appropriate fanfare.

First off, we have the Reader Appreciation Award given to me by Aja at Writing and Recovering.  If you, too, are interested in being an appreciated reader, check out Aja’s first published book on Amazon, By the Light of the Moon!

Next, we have the Inspiring Blogger Award from Collies of the Meadow (and Chuck).  Our favorite pack of dogs also awarded us the Sunshine Award, which is on our other awards shelf.

Bassa, the most beautiful and intriguing Caucasian Shepherd in the world, gave us the You Make Me Shine Award.

I mentioned the next one on the shelf once already, but it bears repeating – thanks to Nicole at The Middlest Sister for our Wonderbutt avatar.  It almost helps us to overlook the fact that she now has 5,000 subscribers and we only have 3.

And last, but not least, we have the Hot Potato Award, passed on to us by our favorite pair of poodles, Bella and Didi, at Paws to Talk.

Now, if you are familiar with blogging awards, you know that they often come encumbered with a bunch of requirements.  I am a rule-follower, and I dutifully adhere to all requirements.  But Wonderbutt ate them.  O.K.  Fine.  He did not eat them.  If you are familiar with me, you know that I pay no attention to blog award requirements. This may be considered rude by some, but I like to think of myself as a Blog Robin Hood who takes from the rich and selflessly gives everyone else the biggest gift of all – Time.  With that in mind, thank you and good night.

I Wish This Had Really Happened – to Me

“I hate Jenny Lawson.”

“You hate your Maid of Honor?” my husband, the Honorable Cap’n Firepants asked.

“O.K.  Wrong Lawson, dude.  Don’t you even remember my Maid of Honor’s first name?”

Quickly sidestepping that land mine, the Cap’n said, “Well, who is this Lawson you hate?”

“She is a writer.  And I hate her.”

“I think we’ve established that.  Care to explain why?”

“First of all, she had a crazy childhood.”

“So did you.”

“But hers was a happy, crazy childhood.  And funny.  And she lives in Texas.”

“So -”

“In the Hill Country.”  This will make the Cap’n hate her, too.  He has always wanted to move to the Hill Country.  “Where vultures try to resurrect your buried dead pets and scorpions invade your attic.”

“That doesn’t sound so good.”  Although he did kind of perk up at the dead pet part.  There are moments when he does not have kind thoughts toward Wonderbutt, our Bulldog who Ate the World.

“It’s funny!  Well, the pet dying part was not funny.  I cried.  But she made it funny.  That’s why I hate her.  And she uses profanity indiscriminately.”

“Well I’m glad she does not use discriminating profanity.”

“Haha.  Seriously.  She is hysterical.”

“So, what I’m getting here is that she wrote a book that made you laugh and so you now hate her.”

“Exactly.  Plus she collects taxidermied animals that are dressed up.  How am I supposed to compete with that?”  Again, Cap’n Firepants seems to brighten with a thought.

“It sounds like you’re jealous,” he says after a moment, perhaps thinking that is a better thing to say than, “Wonderbutt would make a fine tuxedoed and taxidermied collectible.”

And this is where the conversation ended.  Not because I threw a deadly scorpion at Cap’n Firepants and a starving vulture ate his carcass.  Though I seriously thought about it.

Only because this conversation did not really happen, except in my head.  And I really hate it when I can’t even control the conversations in my head enough to make myself look good.

If you are interested in hating Jenny Lawson, too, I highly recommend her book, Let’s Pretend this Never Happened.

(And by the way, Crash, thanks for texting me today that I should read this book – which I finished this weekend, laughing so hard that I was crying – and then not saying anything like, “She’s just as funny as you” or “You could totally write a book like that”.  Instead, you just said, “We thought r life was crazy.”)

(And by the way, Parents-in-New-Jersey, you are not the crazy set of childhood memories to which we are referring.  Thank you for reading my blog and not being crazy.  Although, if you were crazy, I might be able to make a lot of money off of  the stories.  Now I just have to do it the hard way and make up my own stories.  Don’t worry, though.  I’ll just make them up about Crash and Cap’n Firepants – not you.)

(And by the way, People Who Might Read Jenny Lawson’s Book, I would probably advise you not to read the iBook edition on your iPad while you are sitting in the middle of a group of parents at your daughter’s dance class.  Particularly if it is the chapter entitled, “My Vagina is Fine.  Thanks for Asking.”  People look at you funny.  And not in a good way.)

Who Needs FB?

A couple of months ago, I casually mentioned to my sister, Crash, that my husband’s 40th birthday had come and gone.

“What?!!!!” she said.  “I didn’t know that!  Tell him I’ve got a card, but it’s gonna be late.”

“O.K.”  This has been a major concern of my husband’s for weeks, I am certain, that my sister did not remember his birthday.

“If you’re not on Facebook, I can’t be expected to remember your birthday,” she chided.

“Hmm.  That’s good to know,” I replied.  Yet another discriminatory remark against those of us not part of the FB cult.

Anyway, this is a long way of saying that I don’t rely on Facebook to remind me of people’s birthdays.  Which is good because I don’t use Facebook.

However, a little bird told me that our blog pal, The Hobbler, is celebrating her special day today.

So, I would like to say a big ole “HAPPY HOBBLING BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HOBBLER!!!!!”

You might actually be someone other than The Hobbler, and are probably wondering by now why you are even reading this post.  I will direct you now to one of The Hobbler’s Top Tens, and you can thank me later.  Just don’t forget.  You know – to come back and thank me.

What the Heck is Going On?

This is not one of my regular posts.  Just a general comment/question to the public at large.  Seriously, what is the deal with WordPress lately?  Suddenly I was getting an avalanche of comments from everyone’s blog that I follow even though I have never subscribed to comments.  Then I e-mailed WordPress for help, and they told me I needed to unsubscribe to the comments EVEN THOUGH I NEVER SUBSCRIBED IN THE FIRST PLACE.  And now, apparently, I have unsubscribed to every blog I previously followed.

So I had to go back and resubscribe to each one individually.  But it still doesn’t show all of the ones I previously followed.

If this makes no sense to you, X out of this post and carry on.

If this makes ANY sense to you, please fill me in!

And if you think this is just a blatant attempt to get more page views today, well, that could be true, but you might as well comment since you are already here.

This Just In…

photo credit: nayrb7 via photo pin cc

When I recently, and quite humbly, accepted my Sunshine Award, I credited two wonderful blogs for bestowing this honor upon me – Paws to Talk and glutenvygirl.  After that post, it was brought to my attention that one more fabulous blog had also seen fit to honor me.  A Fine Day for an Epiphany was the third in a growing line of intelligent bloggers to recognize my sunshiny nature.  And what a fine write-up accompanied my nomination!  Thanks to all three of you for adding one more award to the shelf.  And now, as John astutely observed, I must begin a quest for a bigger shelf!

We Can’t All. And Some of Us Don’t.

“Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he.”Why, what’s the matter?””Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.””Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose.”Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.”

A few years ago, one of my friends informed me that the Winnie-the-Pooh character who I most resemble is Eeyore.

There is not a really good way to react to a statement like that.  Protesting kind of proves the point, unfortunately.  And cheerfully accepting it basically makes you a nut-head.

A couple of years later, I took a Winnie-the-Pooh personality test on the web, and was temporarily gratified that the results did not brand me an Eeyore.  Instead, I am Rabbit.  After digesting that news, I decided that I did not really care for that designation either.  Rabbit is quite cranky when you think about it.  And a bit of a know-it-all.  Eeyore may be gloomy, but at least he is lovable.  So, I took the test three more times, varying my responses to the questions.  And it came up Rabbit every time.  My students joined in on this psychological test, and did not get Rabbit – not one of them.

All of this information that you really didn’t want to know is leading up to my brand new addition to my Award Shelf – the Sunshine Award – an award that, despite its supposed incongruity with my personality, has been bestowed upon me by not one, but two, separate entities.  According to my in-depth research, this award goes to “bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogosphere”.  Ah hah!  Take that “Mrs. Cap’n Firepants is an Eeyore” proponents!  I am positive, woohoo!!!!!

So, a big thanks goes out to Paws to Talk and glutenvygirl for not only completing my Award Shelf, but for realizing that, deep down, way, way, way, deep down, I am a sunshiny person.  It’s too bad the people who have known me for years haven’t figured that out yet…

Well, as is the tradition of blogging awards, I am supposed to do something in order to get my cash prize.  Something about telling you stuff about me or some such nonsense.  Why would you want to know anything about me? Uh oh, was that Eeyorish?  That was, wasn’t it?  O.K.  In that case, let’s just say that I am far too busy to spend my time listing my glorious attributes.  Oops – a little bit of Rabbit peeking out right there.  Hmm.  What would Pooh say?  Oh yes.  I am very hungry, and I must go now to find something sweet to eat…

Are You Talking to Me?

Now I know someone is messing with me.  Someone with a modicum of creativity and a heaping dose of a twisted sense of humor.  After yesterday’s post about the numerous readers who have recently arrived here at Whatimeant2say by way of searching for “sexiest woman”, I awoke to find that one or two jokesters had gotten here by typing in “hottest woman on a monster truck”.  While that may or may not be a true statement about me, I am not sure how anyone would know it since I have not blogged about it.  In addition, my 2nd top search this morning was “nude on the floor”.  Since I’m not one of those people who typically dresses her dog up in tutus, I guess you could technically say that Wonderbutt is most nearly always nude on the floor.  But I certainly don’t advertise it.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must go throw on my bikini so I can wash my huge, honkin’ truck before my next rally.  I hate bikinis, but the neighbors tend to frown on me when I perform this driveway chore in the nude.  At least the female ones do.

Hottest woman next to a monster truck on the floor not nude. (That's the best I could do, People.) I hope you're satisfied. photo credit: Scott McKittrick via photopin cc

Your Search is Over the Top

Photo Credit: Fabio Has

This is one of those obligatory posts about searches that lead to my blog.  I have been gratified in the last couple of weeks to see that several people – or the same person several times – have reached my blog by Googling “sexiest woman.”

Although I found this flattering, I could not leave well enough alone.  In order to try to get into the mind of the person or persons who have followed this unusual path to my portal, I tried Googling that term myself.

I had to go through 8 pages of results before I finally found one that linked to my blog.  That was a couple of days ago.  Today I tried it, so I could add a picture of the search results to this post, and I gave up after looking through ten pages.  Which really makes me wonder what exactly these searchers are seeking.

Are they skipping all of the nude images and videos and articles about Jennifer Aniston, and actually determining that Please Send Congratulations in the Form of Donations to the Wonderbutt Disaster Relief Fund is the answer to their sexy woman prayers?  Or, are they clicking on every link, page by page, hour by hour, day by day – reading my blog dutifully – and then starting the whole process again?

This is what I spend my days pondering – the psyche of my readers, both accidental and purposeful, who are my invisible audience.

Conversely, the top searched term leading to my blog of all time is “porta potty.”  Considering that my post on this topic was about an obituary of a woman who held “a great appreciation for porta-potties”, and my great desire to never be known for this particular attribute, I find it to be the ultimate irony that this is how most people chance upon my blog.  And now, of course, I’ve made this even more likely by mentioning it in yet another post.

If I thought it would be productive, I would seed this post with a plethora of more productive search terms, like “Hunger Games” or “porn.”  But I don’t need a bunch of hate comments from disappointed internet surfers who tried to catch the wrong wave.  And I don’t think people doing those types of searches are apt to offer me a publishing contract, much less a movie contract.  (At least not for the type of movies in which I feel comfortable appearing.)

My next stat investigation will involve trying to figure out why I suddenly have so many readers in Malawi (shout out Malawi!!!!!) – second only to my U.S. followers.    Maybe you Malawians have been the sexiest woman seekers stumbling upon my blog.  If so, I hope you haven’t been too disappointed to find out that the Wonderbutt featured so prominently in my blog is a fat, toxic gas emitting bulldog, and not an actual female body part.

March’s Dead Rubber Post – Numero Deuce

As promised (or threatened – depending on how you look at it) yesterday, I am extending my Dead Rubber Post for the month because this week is a particularly demanding one on the social events calendar.  Or, it could just be laziness.  I’ll let you be the judge.

Today’s post has a target audience of 11 people – the people who participated in my devious reversal of the fine blogger trend of assigning people increasingly odd questions to answer.  My response to this was to give people my answers, and to make you guess the question.  This obviously was a huge success based on the number of responses.

I could create an X-ray impenetrable fort out of all of the lead balloons I’ve been collecting in the last few weeks.

Anyway, I digest.  (Attempted pun related to my stomach issues of late.  Another lead balloon?)

Here are the response summaries from my Google Form with the answer I gave in bold on the top left, and the breakdown of what questions you guessed listed on the right:

Yes - my toilet paper is hung over and under. I really don't care either way.

I would love to retire (when I'm old enough; I'm not quite there yet!) and work on The Daily Show. I would work there for free if I could.

O.K. This wasn't fair, but I was trying to work within the questions originally given by J-Wo without giving an obvious answer. Worst chore ever (that I happen to do quite well, surprisingly) - cleaning toilets (Just call me Ring Master.)

I want to believe in ghosts. Totally. But I'm pretty much on the fence about it. Maybe leaning a little toward the side that's not haunted.

I would definitely perform the Jonas Snap at the circus. I am an awesome Jonas snapper. Learned it before the Jonas brothers were even born. Learned it before snapping was even invented. My best trick.


And the winner with the most correct answers questions – a whopping 3 – is Audrey.  Woohoo!  Thank you for playing.  Come again.

%d bloggers like this: