How I Got My Electronic Ankle Bracelet

As I write this, I am enjoying my first glass of wine since my "Jencident" with Jen Lancaster last Friday.  While it is delicious, I can tell my body is having a certain amount of trepidation as I lift the glass to my lips.  No worries, little liver.  This ain't no Borders.

So today I am working on a freelance project, and I glance up from from my desk/dining room table and look out the window at a beautiful day outside.  I feel like the dog in the Far Side cartoon, watching two other dogs attack the mailman, with a caption that reads something like "Fido wanted to go play with the other dogs, but he had to stay inside and practice his violin."  I notice that the grass is about 6 inches tall again, and think "I should mow that".  This gives you some insight into how far I am willing to go to procrastinate the work I am supposed to do.

Then I started thinking about how I mowed the yard the last time, and how many times I did it LAST summer, and I'm thinking "has feminism given Current Husband a pass on mowing?"  Then I started thinking about traditional roles of men and women, and if there is such a thing as a "Traditional" gender job anymore, i.e. husband mows and takes out garbage, wife does everything else, and then I started thinking about Nutty Bars and coffee.  I believe the medical community refers to this as "Attention Deficit Disorder".

Mmmm.  Nutty Bars.
So in order to procrastinate my work even further, I log onto Facebook and post the following on my ADITW Fan page:  Just curious...who does the mowing at your houses? Are there still traditional "Man" jobs and "Woman" jobs? Does this sound like a dangerous question, like "Do I look fat pushing this mower?"
  
(Before I get into the rest of this story, I'd like to point out that I got 22 comments on this single little post, more than ANY OTHER POST in the history of ADITW.  You Likers get really riled up about laundry and lawns.  Next week I'm going to post about dirty dishes or toilet paper and see if I can top 22 comments.)

So I make my little post, and no shit, within 30 seconds I get an e-mail from CH:  "What's THAT all about?" and I get really indignant because CH is following me on Facebook and Twitter and checks the blog regularly and honestly, it's starting to creep me out.  I feel like I have a CH-Cam on me.  If I cut myself shaving he is going to text me and say, "You should shave in the other direction.  Put some aloe on that."  He is the spousal version of Big Brother, the HoverSpouse.  I call him at work.

ME:  "What the hell?  Can I say ANYTHING without you butting in?"
CH:  "Well are you saying I don't mow the lawn?"
ME:  "No, I'm asking people about traditional chore roles."
CH:  "I think you're saying I don't mow."
ME:  "That is beside the point.  Why do you feel like you need to Creep in on all of my stuff?"
CH:  "Someone needs to keep an eye on you.  You were illegally posting for advice on getting out of jury duty, and need I remind you of the Jen Lancaster incident just 72 hours ago?"
ME:  "I am an adult.  Butt out, Creeper."

And then we make an appointment for a nooner because school will be out in three weeks and that will be the end of that.  I grab a Nutty Bar and refresh my coffee and mutter to myself about being a responsible adult and I can post whatever I want.  I am SO in control.  Sheesh.  But as long as I've taken a break from work I wasn't doing, I think I will go over and check The Bloggess today, because I am an equal opportunity stalker.  Of course, she is hilarious, as usual.  Today, she created an ad about BINGO, because Bingo.com asked her to create and post an ad for them on her site.  Here is what she came up with:

I scan the comments, because some of the commenters are really funny too, and someone posts something like "Get 1,000,000 People To Beg SNL to Let The Bloggess Host" and I thought, "Hey, something like that would be funny".

And that, my friends, is where things went a little south.  It's like I was stalking Jen again, except this time there was actual trademark infringement.  I blame the Nutty Bars.

My next thought was "We have a Poet Laureate, The Bloggess should be our Blogger Laureate!"  Next thing I knew, I was on Facebook, CREATING THE PAGE:

A Dozen People Who Want The Bloggess to Be Our National Blogger Laureate

And then I'm like, "Hey, what good is a Facebook Fan Page without a photo?" and so I go to her site and STEAL her image and post it on the page, and I list her as a Government Official, and then Facebook sends me a message that says YOU'VE CREATED A FAN PAGE! and I think, "HA!  That's SO funny!" and I go to her site and post a comment that says, "Make Jenny the National Blogger Laureate - click here!" and I post the link and I check the page 30 MINUTES LATER and there are 24 Likers, and then the sugar wears off and I think, "WHAT.  HAVE.  I.  DONE." 

I start sweating a little bit, and I send Jenny The Bloggess this e-mail (Actual text):

"Hi Jenny - Okay, so I read the funny blog about Bingo, and then I see someone comments about starting a Facebook page and then I think HEY that would be funny, she should be our National Blogger Laureate, and I go to FB  thinking "I'll just see if it's easy to do" and then POW, there is a page created, and I take your picture and then I'm like HOLY SHIT WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?! and I think I may have accidentally taken some Vicodin or drain cleaner and now I think I have violated you, which of course everyone dreams about, but not in this way.  So,
A)  I'm sorry
B)  Can I keep it?  I'll feed it and take care of it and make sure it doesn't get rabies
C)  You really do rule the Internet.  But not with an iron fist, and that's why we all like you so much.
D)  I will happily take it down if it is annoying and/or scary

I am now sweating.  I think I'll eat some crackers and lie down.
Julie"

You may be saying to yourself, "Self, how does she have The Bloggess's e-mail address?" and I will tell you that as I worker I may be a slacker, but as a stalker I am very thorough. 

But get THIS - she responded:

"Ha!  I love it.  It's awesome."

Swoon.  I love her.  And I am really thrilled she is not suing my ass.  So CH comes home from work and puts his things down and pecks me on the cheek and goes to his laptop.

CH:  "How was your day?"
ME:  "Um, good."
CH:  "What."
ME:  "What do you mean, 'What'?"
CH:  "I mean what did you do?  I can tell you did something."
ME:  "Well, I sort of started a FB page to make The Bloggess the National Blogger Laureate."
CH:  "No."
ME:  "Yeah.  And I kind of stole images from her site to do it."
CH:  "Oh shit."
ME:  "And it has 147 Likers.  But I e-mailed her and she said it's okay."
CH:  (head in hands)  "This?  This is why I monitor you."

So now I'm on Double Secret Probation, and there is a suspicious-looking stuffed bear on the buffet staring at me with a huge belly button.  But that bear can't keep me off the Internet, sucka!  Be sure to become a Liker on the Facebook page, because really, how hard can it be to get Obama's e-mail address?  Not very.