Versatile Blogger?

I’ve been called many things (usually accompanied by a waving of the middle finger) but I’ve never been called versatile. But thanks to The Gratitude Garden blog, I’ve been nominated for the Versatile blogger award.

Thanks so much for the nomination–and now the pressure to keep writing funny AND versatile blogs for the rest of eternity.

As part of this award, I need to share 7 things about me that no one knows. But then I’ll have to kill all of you. It’s nothing personal, of course.

1. I was a very precocious and obnoxious child. (Now, I’m a precocious, obnoxious adult.)

2. I once failed a spelling test intentionally so my best friend wouldn’t feel bad about screwing up the test the week before.

3. I was born in a quaint, small town by the name of Dallas, Texas (You might have heard of it. Maybe not) and moved to the bustling cosmopolitan city of Salt Lake when I was still in diapers. (Of course, I was also 13).

4. I always wanted to be a prima ballerina. But I’m about 6″ and 100 lbs. too big for that dream.

5. I had NO idea what I was doing as a mother.

6. Would rather read than do almost anything. (Occasional exceptions: yoga, sex, eating)

7. I ate my daughters’ Halloween candy while they were at school. (See #5)

And now, here are my 15 nominations for the Versatile Blogger Award:

1. The Can’t Stay At Home Mom.

2. Technicolor Day Dreams: And a BIG thank you to this blogger who also nominated me for the award.

3. My Organized Chaos 

4. Inkings and Inklings

5. Pechaflickr

6. Travel Destination Bucket List

7. Dreaming of Hope

8. MJCache

9. Paltry Meanderings

10. Caorthine

11. Sarah’s Place

12. The Healthy Diva

13. Sarah Smiles Awhile

14. Apronhead

15. The Bernard Charles Show

Thanks again for the nomination. Keep blogging!

Top 5 Ways to Get Over Writer’s Block

I spend a LOT of time writing. Whether it’s my Life and Laughter column, an article for a magazine or newspaper, a press release or this witty blog, I’m ALWAYS trying to come up with interesting topics, fun words, brilliant sentences, blah, blah, blah. But there are SOME days (I call them “weekdays”) when my brain doesn’t engage and I stare stupidly at my computer screen, watching that irritating cursor blink in my general direction. Mocking me.

Writer’s Block.  For some reason, the voices in my head have gone silent.

So I type anything. Lalalalalalalalalalalalala. UMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Peri is cool. I want chocolate. Must quit my writing job. Goats are people, too. This grapefruit is fascinating. Etc, etc, etc.  Blah, blah, blah.

Doesn’t usually help.

But I’ve found some things that will get those creative writing juices flowing again:

#1: Wallow in self-pity. This is the point where I admit I’ve been a writing fraud my entire life and I will never write a coherent sentence ever, ever again. This leads me to collapse on the floor in a heap (with the dog licking my neck) until I fall asleep. When I wake up, I feel much better. (I also do this when things don’t go my way. I call those times “weekdays.”)

DSC_0505

(Someone. . . get . . . me . . . a . . . thesaurus. . .)

#2: Write the ending first. By typing the words “The End,” I feel very accomplished and can retire to the couch for a couple of hours of mindless entertainment. (This can be found on the E! channel.)

#3: Draw a picture. Using colored markers, pastels or pencils, I’ll grab a piece of paper and draw a unicorn sliding down a rainbow into a pool full of warm caramel. (Don’t worry, PETA. The caramel isn’t deep. The unicorn is fine.) Then I take my drawing and put it on the fridge. Then I walk over to my computer and punch it in the face.

(You should see my picture of a panda bear soaring on a magic carpet.)

#4: Take an exercise/healthy eating break. This is loosely translated as “walk briskly to the pantry, grab a bag of Cheetos and insert head into bag.” It could also mean, “Stomp down the hall to hidden chocolate stash. Insert head into stash.” Regular exercise/healthy eating habits keep the brain oozing with creative energy.

#5: Resolve personal issues. Writer’s block might be nothing more than last night’s fight with my teenage daughter or husband (who’s not a teenager.) When I find my personal life interfering with my professional projects, I put those bad feelings aside and ask for forgiveness.

Hahahahahaha!!!! Then I fly off on my invisible jet to the land of Honky Wonky and live on popcorn-flavored Jelly Bellys.

(Never forgive. Never forget.)

If these tips don’t have you back at your keyboard typing the next bestselling novel, then chances are you suck at writing and should apply at the local department store.

Things Driving Me Crazy Today

Along with the freeeeeezing temperatures, Newt Gingrich, my health insurance company and the shortage of Butterfinger candy bars in my home, the following things might make me fling myself off the tallest building. Of course, in Salt Lake, that’s not very tall. I’d probably survive. On life support.

Things Driving Me Crazy Today:

  • The redneck who “walks” his dog by driving his pick-up truck through the park while the dog runs alongside it. Can you get any lazier, sir?
  • Automatic toilets that flush while you’re still sitting on them.
  • Automatic toilets that don’t flush at all.

  • People who don’t hold the door open–even when you’re right behind them.
  • Eating healthy all day–then eating an entire apple pie before I go to bed.

(Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom, nom nom.)

  • Tall trucks that block the stoplights so you’re halfway through an intersection before you realize the light’s red.
  • Sweaty guys (and girls) who don’t wipe off the machines at the gym. Ewwww.
  • Being ignored by salespeople.
  • Being hounded by salespeople.

 

Why the World Won’t End This Year

(And if you read it backwards, it says “Yadsmood 2102.” Eerie, isn’t it?)

In a very Grinch-like move, the Mayans have chosen to ruin Christmas this year by predicting the end of the world. ACTUALLY, they didn’t predict the world ending–their day planner just got filled up. But if they’re right, Dec. 21 (which happens to ruin my Friday–and my weekend plans) will be the day we’re either a) hit by a rogue planet, b) forced to watch every episode of every Kardashian TV show, or c) made to bow down to our new president, BeZorg.

Luckily, our country has spent billions of dollars in space technology, telescopes and Transformers to protect our planet from boomeranging comets and intergalactic warfare. Plus, Bruce Willis has those sweet asteroid-exploding skills we could put to use. Soooooo, I think we’ll be okay.

(He’s either constipated, or seriously concerned about the fate of our planet.)

Doomsayers have predicted that a cloud of negative energy will engulf the solar system–causing terror and chaos. Guess what? That’s already happened. It’s called the GOP debates.

( Now, THESE suckers might destroy our planet even before December.)

Nostradamus has been given credit for predicting everything from the exile of Adam and Eve to the Katy Perry-Russell Brand divorce (but of course EVERYONE saw that one coming.) Was Nostradamus Mayan? Isn’t it true he predicted that Hollywood would fall into the sea, causing smeared mascara and a shortage of bad movies?

Anyway. I know the world won’t end this year because:

I just ordered a three-year subscription to O magazine. And you KNOW Oprah won’t let the world end before she’s ready to quit publishing.

(What I know for sure? This world won’t end until I have ALL the money. Mwahahahaha.)

I REALLY want to see the second season of “Revenge.” That Emily Thorne is a bitch. I want to be her.

(This is one classy, cold-hearted wench.)

I’d miss my crazy-ass dog, Ringo.

I have a lifetime supply of Turtle Wax I’m not even CLOSE to using up.

Remember Y2K?

(Not as cool as a zombie apocalypse. . .but it will have to do.)

Required List of New Year’s Resolutions 2012

Besides taking up smoking, drinking margaritas, spending food money on shoes and increasing the sugar in my diet, I’ve been trying to think up ways to improve my already incredible life.

(Should be a glamorous 2012.)

Just like in November, when bloggers are required to compose a gratitude list, in January, we are required to make public our New Year’s resolutions. I don’t know why. It’s in the fine print.

So, in 2012, I resolve to:

  • Finish memorizing “Zoolander.”

(“Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good-looking?”)

  • Become one of the infamous (and uber-wealthy) 1 percent.
  • Stop whining about the weather. (Unless it’s cold, windy and/or snowy.)
  • Find a Greek yogurt I can eat without gagging.

(Oh, yeah. Greek yogurt is delicious.)

  • Convert to Taoism and then drive my friends crazy while I try to convert them, too.
  • Create a low-calorie food that tastes exactly like a Snickers bar.

(A meal-in-a-bar.)

    • Open that erotic bakery I’ve always wanted.
    • Quote from Sarah Palin’s “Going Rogue” more often.
    • Learn Spanish–not so I can talk with my neighbors, but so I’ll know what they’re saying about me.
    • Manage stress by punching people at the mall.
    • See less of friends and family. It makes Christmas cheaper.
    • Bring back the “children should be seen and not heard” tradition.

Why Santa Didn’t Bring Me a Lexus

I kept my hopes up all through Christmas Eve. I didn’t give up when I woke up and there wasn’t a new car in the driveway. I kept the faith and KNEW that Santa would be driving up in my black IS 350 Lexus convertible at any time.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And slowly my spirits were dashed against those Christmas rocks of reality. I hadn’t been that depressed since General Mills stopped making Sprinkle Spangles breakfast cereal.

(“Spangled every angle with sprinkles!”)

So I stayed in bed all day Monday trying to figure out what I had done, what sin I had committed, that would keep Santa from giving me my Lexus. In no particular order, I:

  • Threw a fit when I lost at Rack-O. Also, tennis, Clue, Chutes and Ladders, and Memory. (My 3-year-old granddaughter cheats.)
  • Wore white after Labor Day.
  • Didn’t return my overdue library book until I finished it.
  • Told my grandkids the SpongeBob SquarePants channel was broken.

(WAAAYYY too much intensity. Tone it down, Bob.)

  • Told my grandkids my TV was broken.
  • Didn’t give $1 to the homeless guy by the freeway
  • Ate all the cookie dough and blamed the dog
  • Stayed on the elliptical longer than my alloted 35 minutes. (How can I lose weight in 35 minutes?!?)
  • Watched YouTube videos about kittens instead of working.

I didn’t think these sins were particularly nasty–especially when there were LOTS of things I WANTED to do–but didn’t. But I guess they added up to one big empty driveway. Starting today, or maybe next week, I’ll be good.

Top 5 Things I Don’t Want For Christmas

I’m not inherently greedy. And I don’t mean to be bossy. But there are a few things I REALLY don’t want to find in my stocking, or under my tree, on Christmas morning.

Clothes That Don’t Fit:  Whether it’s too-tight jeans (Hey, you bought them. Now you have to watch me wear them) or too-small lingerie (yes I know you’d like me to be the size of a Twizzler, but I’m not), please don’t try to guess my size. It just humiliates both of us.

Any cleaning supplies: I’m not Alice from the freakin’ Brady Bunch.  No matter how much our house needs these items, I don’t want a vacuum, broom, mop, Windex, Pledge, grout or paper towels. But feel free to get my house as many of those gifts as you’d like.

(With Ann B. Davis as the resident shit picker-upper.)

Anything purchased at 7-11. At midnight. On Dec. 24: This includes Carmex, silk roses, Slurpees, car magazines, jerky, stale donuts, Bubble Yum or a gas card. (Okay, maybe I’ll keep the gas card.)

(This is not a Christmas gift. This is a refreshing beverage.)

Weight-loss books/Magazines: Yes, I know I gripe about my weight, but that doesn’t mean this is a thoughtful gift. In fact, this could be the last gift you ever give me with both of your arms. And my husband is DYING to get me a subscription to Cosmo, especially with the title “100 Ways to Drive Him Crazy in Bed.” I know one way to drive him crazy in bed: put my cold feet on his back.

(A seriously bad gift idea.)

This Top 5 List Already Posted In a Previous Blog: (This is a link. Click on it.)

Holiday Things Driving Me Crazy Today

I know this time of year is loco. I know it can be frustrating. And I’m sure more murders are committed in December than any other time of year. (That’s the Spirit of Christmas for you.)

(Look at all the happy Christmas people.)

So I TRY to be patient while children shriek, shoppers cut in line, stores run out of items and neighbors leave fudge on my doorstep for dogs to pee on.

But there are some things that REALLY need to stop before I blow a holiday gasket.

  • A store advertises EVERYTHING IS ON SALE!! Then they list a whole shitload of exceptions: jewelry, fragrances, clothes, shoes, home furnishings and bath towels. (Things on sale: blue toothbrushes and wooden spoons.)

(Clue here: “Selected” items have been marked down. Yep.)

  • The frantic woman behind me in line who thinks sighing loudly and bumping into me with her large ass will make the line move faster.
  • Kids holding candy canes while they’re crying. They turn into red, slobbery, sticky, mucousy messes. Coal for you, kid.
  • Children who either have a mile-long list for Santa–or no ideas at all.
  • Christmas family newsletters. Yes, I know you have the perfect family–but I don’t. If I wrote a Christmas newsletter, I’d have child services, immigration, neighborhood watch and Santa breathing down my neck.

(That’s great your family learned Chinese this year, and built homes in Haiti and knitted scarves for the homeless. Aren’t you perfect? I spent our Christmas budget on bail.)

  • ANY Christmas song by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Especially when it’s Muzaked in elevators.
  • Having no money. The ATM just laughs at me when I try to withdraw cash.
  • Those irritating, irritating kiosk workers at the mall who each try shoving their product in my face. I haven’t made eye contact with anyone at the mall since September.

What’s Hanging On My Tree

If your Christmas tree is a perfectly-shaped, fake evergreen garnished with gold, silver and magenta, and decorated within an inch of its perfect life, this blog is not for you.

(This is like the supermodels of Christmas trees. My tree has a self-esteem problem next to this glorious creation.)

Our family’s Christmas tree is the perfect example of hilarious imperfection. It all starts with a freezing trip to the tree lot to find the pine tree that best suits our family: half-dead, a little bent and losing its needles. We strap it to the car and take it home where we plop it in a magical water/sprite mixture and wait for it to die.

There is no “theme” for our tree, unless that theme would be “Salvation Army.” We have pictures, homemade ornaments from decades past, silk (fraying) bulbs, stuff I don’t recognize and new ornaments every year. These are some of my favorites:

Pig Angel: I made this beautiful creature in Girl Scouts when I was about 10. My brother thought it was a pig. Stupid brother. The name has stuck ever since. It’s become a family heirloom (that no one wants).

(“Pig Angels We Have Heard on High”)

Cartoon Characters: Tastes change. Kids grow up. There used to be Barbie doll ornaments, Disney characters and cute little mice with dollhouses. Now, it’s a South Park Christmas.

(“Hark, hear the bells/Sweet silver bells/ All seem to say, “Ding dong, M’kay.” I KNOW Mr. Mackey sings that, not Cartman. But I don’t have a Mr. Mackey ornament. So shut up, all  you South Park purists.)

Photos: School pictures framed in the belly of Christmas characters. Some pictures are funnier than others as we’ve gone through missing teeth, 90s hair, goofy smiles and funky clothes. (My kids refuse to acknowledge these photos.)

(That’s my daughter about 12 years ago. She’s the one without the red hat.)

Homemade Treasures: We have clothespin reindeer, painted plaster puppies, cross-stitched candles and styrofoam drums. (By the way, what do drums have to do with Christmas? Is it representative of banging my head against the wall?) Amongst the homemade Christmas decor, we have this little angel:

(This is named after a former neighbor–Esmerelda. This is what Esmerelda would like like if she’d been hit by a bus on Christmas morning.)

If my Christmas tree depresses you,  take heart. In just a few weeks all these precious ornaments will be stacked back into their coffee cans to wait for another holiday season.

Christmas Toys to Avoid

Love your kids? Don’t buy them any of these toys–unless you are raising blood-thirsty, stuffed animal-obssessed, tattoo ninjas from hell. Which I am.

Power Rangers Megablade: Your little hero will love the real-life disemboweling action of this sword. The megablade not only swings open–but it extends two feet long! Your little serial killer can stab someone from across the room! Plus it comes with slashy and squishy battle sounds.

(“I said, make me some nachos, mama!”)

Baby Alive Crib Life: This hip Baby Alive lives in her “crib” and is too cool for school.  Plus, you can buy a roller skating outfit for Baby Alive. Who buys roller skates for a freakin’ 8 month old?  Put your baby in skates and shove her down the hall. That’s some good parenting there.

(Maybe it comes with its own head trauma kit.)

VTech Care & Learn Teddy: This hypochondriac stuffed bear comes complete with a gash to the head, various bodily injuries and a stethoscope–to make everything all better. Maybe he can repair Baby Alive’s broken femur.

(With the purchase of this bear and Baby Alive, you get a free visit from child services!)

Let’s Rock Elmo: Everyone’s favorite, squeaky-voiced muppet has been given an alter ego. Watch Elmo as he smashes guitars, slaps his hos, smokes crack and destroys your child’s bedroom during his wild all-night parties. Next up: Rehab Elmo.

(Hey kids! Don’t buy drugs. Once you’re a rock star, you get them free!)

Totally Stylin’ Tattoo Barbie:  I have nothing against tattoos–except I will never get one because I’m seriously allergic to needles, pain and ink. But should I be concerned this is a gateway Barbie? Maybe next, Barbie will come with pierced nipples, an assortment of cigarettes and a snarky attitude.

 (The ultimate Tramp Stamp Barbie.)

Doggie Doo: “I know a fun game!! Let’s pick up dog poop!!” From past experience, I know this ploy never works. But now your kids can play the Doggie Doo game where you feed and walk a little pup, then clean up its messes with a shovel. Who the hell dreams this crap up?

Actual game rule: “You can only pick up the dog’s mess when it has fallen on the table. When it is hanging outside the end of the dog, just tap him on the back until it drops.”

 (Keep puppy regular by shoving plastic dough down his throat.)

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