BloggingDangerously

I'm Torn Between Mouth Organ and Squeezebox

Before I go any further with what promises to rapidly devolve into adolescent humor, I'd like to ask you a favor.

As you may or may not know, blogging is NOT a lucrative business.  Sure, I make a couple of dollars from the ads on my sidebar and the sponsored posts that you are good enough to put up with but if we're talking about an hourly rate then I make about the minimum wage

...in Botswana.

Luckily for all of us my kids go to bed early enough that blogging isn't really taking me away from anything other than sitting beside my husband on the couch watching documentaries of World War II.  (I know how it ends.)

And sleep.  Lots and lots of sleep.

I know that a lot of people blog because it helps them work through their depression or anxiety.

Apparenly my neuroses are exhibitionism and excessive ambition because not only do I blog about my sex life, I am more than happy to be paid in Web Awards instead of actual cash.

Why am I telling you this?  Because it is, once again, time for the Bloggies, the biggest award in the blog world and I would love it if you would nominate me in the Parenting and Family category. 

If you're thinking that Blogging Dangerously is not exactly Family friendly, I suppose you're right.  I don't aim to be a Parenting: How To and much as I aim to be a Parenting Survival Guide: "Get Through Raising Children by Focusing on the Funny and Stay Married to Your Spouse (and maybe even have some fun) in the Process.

But if you can't bear to pick the Family category, there are lots of other categories; Humor, Best Written and Blog of the Year.  I'm too modest to ask you to nominate me for all of them (unless you REALLY want to.)

Nominations are only open for a short time and you can ONLY nominate once.  This is not a 'please vote for me every damn day' sort of thing.

I would SINCERELY appreciate your support. 

The End.

Of the begging, not the post...

Warning: Adolescent Humor ahead.

Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking to... Nevermind...

So, last month I purchased 6 amaryllis bulbs for my children's teachers as Christmas presents and one for myself.  I planted them all and gave them away.  Mine started to sprout almost immediately.  There were two stalks and the bigger they grew the more I started to think that they looked like...

Well, you be the judge...

Am I wrong?

I think that I deserve about 150 HEAVEN points for NOT taking a photo of it and posting it on Twitter.  (NEVER post naked photos is the first rule of the internet!)

But then I forgot to water it and the stalk started to droop.  And then it started leaning a little bit to the right like this guy I used to know.  Seriously, his 'organ' took a 90 degree left turn.  Lucky for him it had the length to get away with it.

And then every time I looked at my droopy amaryllis (which is on my desk in my office) I started thinking about different organs that I have known and how they all droop this way or point that way or curve up or hook left, or actually bend, etc.

And then today I started thinking that "Organ" is a foolish word so I wiki'd organ and think that "Squeezebox" and or "Mouth Played Instrument" might be better terms for it.

What do you think?

Also, have I mentioned that I don't get much sleep?

PS My amaryllis is beautiful.

 PPS Thanks to everyone who reminded me that I'm a moron for not linking to the Bloggies.  OOPS.

PPPS If this kind of sophomoric humor is your thing, you need to check out today's post by Eden Riley.  Also, watch the video. 

Hold On To It

Earlier this week I was reading the blog of a woman I only know online and she made reference, in passing, to the fact that she and her husband had recently separated.

And it floored me.

Honestly people, there's this woman I barely know, half a world away and the fact that she and her husband are living in separate houses knocked the wind out of me.

Because when I tell you that I HARDLY know her, it's completely true.  BUT if you'd asked me to tell you three things about her, #1 would have been that she's completely in love with her husband.

So what the hell happened?

The truth is that I don't know and even if I did, it isn't my place to say but it made me think and it made me want to remind you that if you're in love, don't take it for granted.

Don't treat it like something that will always be there so you don't have to appreciate it or thank it or take time to tend to it.

Because last week in Cincinnati I felt lonely, and it had been SO LONG since I'd felt that way that I was like, "What the hell is this misery?"

And then I remembered, "Oh, it's Lonliness, that shitty roommate I had for ALL OF MY 20s.  Piss off."

And then I flew home and my husband met me in the driveway to carry my suitcase in - even though it was practically empty and weighed almost nothing.

And so tonight, as twenty hours of training classes sat waiting for me on my computer, I completely ignored it because he wanted to tell me about his day.

Which was not a big deal.

And is completely my point.

Take the time to love each other and to show each other that you care.  Remember that you're on the same team and never let go of that because once you do, it's hard to get back.

I love you husband.

Love,

Kit

As God Is My Witness, I Thought Turkeys Could Fly...

I had to go to Cincinnati this week. 

On the plus side, I learned how to spell it.  On the down side, I can't imagine why I would ever need to.

It's not that Cincinnati was bad, it was just sort of boring.  Of course it didn't help that when I arrived it was pouring.  Or that AVIS was out of rental cars.  Or that in my hurry to get to the Hertz counter I left my iphone - full of vibrator tweets - on the AVIS counter. OR that the AVIS bus driver let me off across the street from Hertz and while I was dashing through traffic (and rain) to get inside I stepped in an 8" puddle of rainwater.  Wearing CROCS.

My socks got soaked (and yes I know I just admitted to wearing crocs with socks.  I have no dignity.)

The best part of my trip was the vibrator tweets.  You see, I just got a rechargeable bullet vibe and this was it's virgin trip.

To tell you the truth I was a little nervous about bringing it and almost didn't but a faithful reader reminded me that if I brought it I would have company and if I got busted by TSA I would have a great story. You're welcome.

The truth is that the trip to Cincinnati was fairly uneventful.  I put the vibrator in my briefcase with my mouse, my ipad and a host of other small electronics that you don't have to turn on at security.  But most importantly I was travelling alone which meant that if TSA DID pull me aside I could hiss, "It's a vibrator" and hope that they were more embarassed by me than I would be by them and I could go on my way. (That's my parenting strategy too.)

EXCEPT that while I was waiting in line for security I got an email from a reader in Alabama who told me that she was trying to buy a vibrator but apparently it's ILLEGAL to purchase sex toys in Alabama so no one would ship to her.

Which made me think, "Shit man, are vibrators legal in Kentucky?  What if I can get this thing INTO Nothern KY (no relation) but I can't get it out?"

So I started tweeting begging people to research the legality of sex toys in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky and who has jurisdiction if you're caught with a vibrator at a TSA checkpoint because wouldn't that be a federal crime?

And there was NO WAY I wanted to go to Leavenworth for a vibrator - even though it is pretty fantastic.

So there were maybe 100 tweets about vibrators and the federal Penal code on my phone when the nice Northern Kentuckian lady found it - which may explain the funny/horrified look she gave me when she handed it back to me.

The rest of my visit to Cincinnati was pretty uneventful except for my first visit to a Cracker Barrel.

And then it was time to come home.

And I was travelling with my boss.

And apparently the TSA tv watcher lady was training someone new.

So I stood there with my boss as the bags went through the scanner... V.E.R.Y. S.L.O.W.L.Y

And then they came to my bad and stopped and spoke for a LONG time.  And all I could picture was them pulling me to the side and pulling it out and me blurting out, "Just throw it away!" 

Anyway, I sat there SWEATING for about 2 minutes wondering what I would do if she pulled the vibrator out in front of my boss - because, SERIOUSLY, what kind of a sex addict can't go away for 24 hours without a VIBRATOR?

Then they sent my bag all the way through and I grabbed it and they made the lady behind me go through the test where they swab the whole bag and I was SO HAPPY because I was literally sweating profusely and thought I was about to be humiliated, arrested and fired in the same minute.

YES, I know what this sort of anxiety attack is called, It's called "GUILTY CONSCIENCE."  Thank you CATHOLIC CHURCH.

Anyway, then I made it home perfectly safe and sound and I was so excited to tell you all this I let my husband go to bed alone so that I could tell you about my vibrator because I'm a moron like that.

THEN, because I was talking about Cincinatti, I wanted to put in a reference to the show WKRP in Cincinatti and I'm sure most of you haven't even seen it but I TOTALLY got sucked into the Thanksgiving episode and I almost peed in my pants because it's so effing funny.

Here you go...

 

Football

Tonight was my sons' last football game - and, unfortunately, their second loss.

After their games we always go to McDonald's.  It's a treat for them and on game nights it's hard to make dinner because they have to be at the field at 4:30 and we don't get home until 6:30.

We were sitting at the booth tonight when my 4 year old turned to the table and asked, "Did they win?"

"No." we answered.

"Then what the heck are we celebrating?!?" she asked.

-----

What she hadn't seen was my 8yo son crying after the game because his coach had walked up to him and told him what a great job he'd done that season, and how much he appreciated his hard work and how much it had done for the team.

THAT, was what we were celebrating.

-----

Which is why I wanted to junk punch my wealthy neighbor when my sons showed up to the bus stop with their game jerseys on and she said, "Wow, I can't believe the school allows them to wear their jerseys with all the work they're doing to eliminate cliques"

I was totally caught off guard but I said, "Well it's a reward for their hard work."

"People work hard at their instruments." she argued.

"Not in freezing rain with people hitting them." I joked.

"No, I know." she said.  "But it just perpetuates the school hierarchy - and it starts in 2nd grade!"

She had walked away before I recovered enough to say, "But we don't even have a dress code!" or "Yeah, but what about those RICH people who perpetuate the class hierarchy by dressing their 6yo daughters in Justice jeans because they have more dollars than sense!"

 

On the Table

No this is not a sex post, but I DO have one of those that would fit this Title.  Alas, that's a story for another day.

I'm writing this on a Saturday morning when I 1) never post and 2) really don't have time to post because I'm blown away by the criticism in the comments on Thursday's politics post.

I am a Libertarian.  I've never made a secret of the fact that I appreciate freedom over rules and that I don't really care much for government - big or otherwise.

But that doesn't make me a hater.  It makes me an American with a different opinion than the current administration.  And yeah, it's like sucking on lemons for four darn years, especially these most recent years, and you can laugh at my dismay all you want.

But don't call me a hater.

In the comments yesterday someone accused me of "teaching my children 'emotional, reactionary ways of responding to politics.'"  I think that would be true if I suggested sending Obama a pie full of table scraps.

But a 4 year old sensing our angst with the current state of affairs and suggesting we send the figurehead a "fake pie?" 

Well first of all it was a good teaching moment.

And second of all I think it's funny.

I dont post a lot of political stuff here because 1) I don't really want to and 2) I know you all don't agree with me and this isn't supposed to be a place where we get into deep philosophical discussions.  But sometimes I think it's important to give you the backstory on why a certain incident is funny and sometimes that reveals that I don't see the "HOPE."

I can live with the fact that we don't agree on everything.  But before you call me a hater, please ask yourself if the story would have been funny to you if the pie had been addressed to George Bush.

And if you STILL think it wouldn't have been funny?  Then maybe you should unfollow me because we have different senses of humor not because I'm a hater.