Of Blogs and Birthdays and Baginas and Blow Jobs

Last week I will admit that I was a little bitter because I wanted to go to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Conference, which only happens every two years, and it was on my birthday, and was where I met some kick-ass bloggers last year, one of whom has a book coming out, Mommy Mixology, at http://www.muffintopmommy.com/.

So Janet of MTM went to the conference and is posting all kinds of cool stuff, and The Bearded Iris, whom I love, was also there and posting great stuff, and I'm all "Waaa, waaa, I didn't get to go to EBWW and it was my birthday and no one bought me a cake and I spent it attending OD's musical, waaa." Of COURSE I would rather have been at the musical.  Of course.  But it doesn't stop me from having one of those "But what happened to MY life?  MY interests?" moments.

Then I read The Bearded Iris' blog today and I'm even more pissed I didn't go because I'm afraid now I'm forced to stalk her until I meet her at a conference, because I think we are living similar lives and I need to get a DNA sample to see if we are related somehow.  Here is her blog post, read at will:  http://www.thebeardediris.com/  Here's the skinny if you don't have time to read it yet - her cover as a blogger was blown, and her son's friend told her son that he knew about his mom's blog.  The cold fear of every semi-anonymous blogger, including myself.

I love this photo at The Bearded Iris - she rocks it.

Her last two posts are near and dear to my heart, because I struggle with this very thing.  I started blogging about 12 years ago, so if I had stuck with it I would perhaps be able to live off of blogging and be home with my kids like I'd like to be, but I'm not bitter and that's what's important.  I was also a writer for a local newspaper and had an award-winning column called "Diary of a Mad Housewife."  At the time, it was okay to tell stories about how my daughter called it a "Bagina" and said nothing was EVER coming out of hers.  Or to talk about how my son thought our minister was YD's dad, or how my nursing boobs were hanging out at Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha at a tour bus stop, all because my kids were little and no one cared.  The only person I was embarrassing was myself, and I was (and am) okay with that.

A couple of years ago, when OD was 13, some moms of her friends were reading the blog, and one of them let slip something that was on a Whoreticulture Friday post.  It was fairly innocuous, BUT, I found myself thinking, "I talk about blow jobs.  Waxing.  Positions.  Farting.  Which teenager is going to completely out my kid at school over my blog because their parents let them read it?"  (THIS IS NOT A BLOG FOR ANYONE UNDER 18.  In case it was unclear.   Because you might think it's funny to share with your teen, but your teen may not have judgement or filters when talking to mine.)  But at the same time, teachers at all three of my kids' schools read it.  Some of their doctors read it.  My in-laws and parents and sister and CH's siblings sometimes read it.  Current Husband and many of his friends read it.  A local mom who hates my living guts for some still-unknown reason reads it to troll for information she can use to get other people to judge me.  It's a sticky wicket. 

Here's a freebie, judgey people - I'm showing off my melons in public again,

while forgetting to suck in my gut.  OD took this picture. Someone call the DHS.

Bloggers generally don't get paid.  I don't.  It takes one to two hours to write a post, which I try to do three times a week.  Because Blogger sucks, I rarely get comments or feedback.  I once got an extremely nasty comment from someone who said that I am a c*nt and they would let CH bend them over (stranger, or local acquaintance?  I'll never know.  C'est la vie.)  It's times like those, and the potential embarrassment factor to the kids, that make you want to quit.  When you stare at your computer screen and say, "Why am I even writing this damn blog for no one?" 

But in the slew of messages I got on my personal facebook page on my birthday, a few stood out as being blog-specific: 

• I was crying laughing last night catching up on your blog!
• Girl, we should SO be celebrating your day at Erma this year :( Hope you have a most AWESOME year, Friend! Get that novel out this year--this is your year! Cheers to you!!!
• Can't tell you how often I read your observations and laugh so hard that I can hardly breathe
• Thank you for making me laugh every single day! :)
• Happy birthday sweetie! Wish we were celebrating at Erma!!! :(
• Hey you hot piece of sass - Happymuthafahkinbirthday!!!!! xoxox

That last one was written by The Insatiable Host, Danon, my favorite Canadian.  We "met" through blogging, and while I've never seen her face I can somehow hear her voice.  Two of the comments are from people I've known for over 20 years.  Two are from people I met at Erma Bombeck in 2010, and two are from people I've never met in person.  I also have a terrific posse of friends who frequently support me and talk up the blog - I've always been a storyteller, and I've threatened to write a book forever (just like every third person on the street does), and that support from friends new and old?  That is the payment.  That is the reason for blogging.  You will all never know how much that support means to me - it keeps me writing.  I just hope the blog never exists at the expense of my kids.

I'd love to hear from other bloggers who have similar situations as Iris.  Do your kids' friends know you blog?  Do you blog under your real name?  Do tell.  I think Iris stirred something up that has been on the minds of bloggers for a long time.

Chick Norris: Kicking Ass and Taking You To School

Note: Sorry about the F-bombs in the song, but it was so perfect I couldn't help it. For future reference, you can pause the Playlist. Got it, Mom?

I'm supposed to be working. On things that pay me. And yet, here I am, procrastinating and giggling in BloggyLand. Something funny happened yesterday, and then it sort of grew out of control, like a Chia Pet on steroids.

I am a fan of the often hilarious blog of this crazy Canadian, Danon of The Insatiable Host. She is wacky and fun and unpredictable and swears to make a sailor blush (and that MEANS something coming from me), she started something called the Panty Pyramid which is downright clever, and she is doing the Jillian Michaels shred. So I get my cup of coffee and sit down at the computer, and this is what I read on her blog:

I woke up early this morning and rather than curling up on my big purple micro sued couch with a cup of coffee with Bailey's I turned the bitch on and flipped her off for 20 mins. I was tell you all that while I was doing the cardio portions of the work-out I would focus on the wall or the ceiling or whatever- and today, I totally visualized myself kicking the shit out of Jillian Michaels. I say my skinny little ass in my work out gear (complete with new kicks) and I totally round housed her in the jaw. My visualization was complete with cinematic slow-play for effect. You could actually see her mouth jobble around and jaw wrench around to he shoulder. Hmmm. I wounder if she felt that all the way in the back on her neck...like a nice stretch?

How can you not read that and just see this woman (Girl, actually, as she is not yet 30) kicking the crap out of Jillian Michaels. I would sit on the couch and eat my Cocoa Puffs and watch THAT. So then I could picture her as The New Sheriff in Workout Land, and I told her that she was like Chuck Norris with a uterus. I was now christening her "Chick Norris".

So Chick Norris has taken a shine to her new moniker and did a post about it. And then I read it, and some great Chick Norris phrases came into my head, along with some modified pre-existing Chuck Norris phrases, because I am already a fan of Chuck Norris lore, and of course, I had to put them on the blog for you three long-suffering people who read this in hopes I will actually post something funny someday. You know who you are (Mom and her two non-English speaking co-workers). Sorry. Your wait has not ended.

This is my opus to all women who've got it goin' on. You make the breakfast, you keep the whites white, you work hard for the money, you keep the hot side hot and cool side cool. You are all Chick Norris (but Danon, you ARE the ORIGINAL, no doubt about it):

Chick Norris has such a strong uterus, it makes babies all by itself up in there.

Chick Norris doesn't just shred, she shreds Jillian Michaels and eats her for breakfast.

The last thing that goes through her opponent's mind before dying is Chick Norris' beautifully manicured toes.

There is no Evolution - just a list of people Chick Norris allows to live.

Chick Norris does not sleep. She waits.

Chick Norris doesn't have a period, she has three dots and then an exclamation point.

Chick Norris doesn't watch Oprah; Oprah watches her.

Chick Norris brings home the bacon, fries it up in the pan, and then eats it in front of the pig.

If it looks like fish and smells like fish but Chick Norris says it is chicken, then it is chicken. So eat it before you make Chick Norris angry.

Martha Stewart weeps when she eats Chick Norris' cookies.

Chick Norris' baby changes its own diaper, because Chick Norris will not take shit from anyone.

Barbie only uses pink because Chick Norris said she wanted purple.

The best part of waking up is not Folgers in your cup, it is knowing Chick Norris didn't kill you in your sleep.

Chick Norris' minivan gets 600 mpg because it is afraid to stop.

Chick Norris will school you, and then take you to school. Which I will have to get up to do in about 7 hours, and I still have to get my work done. And I apologize if the pluralization of Norris is wrong, but it is late, and I am tired. So I will end with the last one in The Insatiable Host's honor:

Jillian was nimble, Jillian was quick, but Jillian still couldn't dodge Chick Norris' roundhouse kick!