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A Trip Down the Red Carpet

I have figured out the problem with blog awards.  I don’t get to wear a designer dress to show off on the red carpet.  If someone does not immediately rectify this, I shall have to come up with my own solution, and it won’t be pretty.  Awards just don’t have the same zing to them if my clothing and hairstyle are not being critiqued by Joan and Melissa Rivers.

While you folks work on solving that problem, I will give you a sneak peek into my Award Acceptance Speech that I have prepared just in case my dreams of a televised event on E! come true:

“I am so honored to be standing in front of all of you tonight.  Isn’t my Vera Wang dress to die for?  I almost snagged it during that little incident on the red carpet involving one of my somewhat over-exuberant fans.  But I digress.  This is not about my fabulous appearance, but about my awesome blogging prowess and the fact that you have finally decided to give me the recognition I deserve.  However, I don’t want to sound like this is all about me – even though it is.  Allow me to mention some others who have played a slight role in my success.

First of all, I would like to thank Wonderbutt.  I think I truly understood his devotion during a recent special night we spent together on the couch during a thunderstorm.  At 4 in the morning, he leapt off the couch, ran to a corner, and threw up.  Thank you, dear Wonderbutt, for thinking enough of me to travel so far before hurling your cookies.  Your love truly inspires my tremendously well-written blog posts.

And, I would be remiss if I did not thank my dear husband, Cap’n Firepants, for finally signing a contract to replace the flooring that we have been missing since October.  If we had done this months ago, I would not have nearly as many attractive pictures on my blog of our pox-infected floors.  I also want to thank you, my pirate prince, for not bringing up the fact that we would not have needed new floors so soon if Wonderbutt had not decided that our old carpet was so distasteful he would pull it up on his own.  As you know, any criticism of me or my dog would have completely shut me down emotionally and I would not be able to write another word for the rest of my life.

Of course,this speech would not be complete without a shout out to my dear daughter, Dimples.  Her giggles as she reads posts I have carefully selected for her viewing pleasure motivate me to continue to write even on the darkest of days – like the one when she told me she likes a boy (code named “blanket 27”), dashing my hopes dreams that she would remain my sweet little innocent baby forever.

Oh, sorry Honey.  I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the code name in front of a television audience of millions of people, one of which probably includes the boy you like.  But, don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone his real name is Jack.  Your secret is safe with me.

Um, would someone tell the orchestra to be quiet?  I can’t hear myself talking.

What, my time is up?  I don’t think so.  This evening is devoted to me.  I have all of the time in the world.

Oh, fine.  I will just post the rest of my speech on my incredibly famous blog.  Who needs you anyway?”

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/polvero/3813357696/”>Dustin Diaz</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;
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