So, I was on Twitter this morning, and I suddenly had this FEAR that I had missed my blogging anniversary. I knew I had started in mid-February last year, and I thought it was around the 12th.
Well, it was. AROUND the 12th. Fortunately, it was the 15th. [Here is my opening post... ]
So today, then, is the last day of the first year of my blog. The first of perhaps MANY years, I can hope...
But WOW! What an amazing first year! What an incredible, incredible first year!
I don't even know where to begin in my recap...
But one of the reasons for this blog was because I'm real cheap, and this was free therapy. So thanks, guys! ;)
No, but seriously, at the time I started this blog, I was deep in grief over two lost relationships, and I was feeling incredibly lonely in a small town where I was trying to dig roots, in a job that ultimately I felt both overwhelmed and bored with. I had lost my best friend, and was feeling a deep need to find someone to tell all the random thoughts and silly things (and perhaps profound?) that were screaming through my head.
So, I thought the whole world was a suitable audience to share everything with...
But I had no readers except my good friend Robin Sparkles (thank you, Robin!) and apparently I wasn't the type who liked to talk just to hear my own voice. Apparently, I'm so selfish and self-centered I actually want OTHERS to hear me too....
And I had decided to give it a whirl because I enjoyed hearing The Bloggess' voice and thought I can do that! So after twenty-five blog posts, and hoping that meant I was going to stick with this, I called her out. At the time, on her blog, there was an incident that she has asked us to no longer name with an actor whose first memorable role was as the second Joey in One Life To Live, and I encouraged her to share a picture with me as she might have wanted one who shall not be named to send a picture to her of him.
So, to get her attention, I did an evil thing. Something that from high above in my lofty cloud I thought was much too far beneath me. Something I never thought I would do.
That's right. I joined Twitter.
WOW!
And The Bloggess - bless her heart - was my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!!!
At some point along the way, I found Kit. And I believe I found her through Jenny. And I found her posts - particularly her posts about sex - to be really funny and amusing. I liked her voice too. And I'd like to say she was my second follower.. but I'm not sure... Either way, with #wineparty, she opened up a whole new world to me.
A world of 30-40-something Mommy bloggers. (Primarily)
You guys are great. Considering I am most definitely NOT a Mommy...
And I have a Sci-Fi name that should turn you off. And it took some of you awhile to realize I wasn't a guy hitting on and flirting with women, but, um, a dyke. But you enjoyed it and flirted back.
And one particular chickie - who played a little hard to get at first - flirted back and foolishly fell in love with me. ;)
WOW!
And slowly, but surely, I've built up a following. I have a steady readership of about 20 readers... ;) and I have had over twelve thousand hits. I have a strong Balkan following.
The CANADIANS have been quite impressive fans. They are so polite. They'll apologize when YOU fart. I love the Canadians... And so... today is as good a day as any to make the official announcement that, well, I'm moving to Canada.
'Cuz, as I've already mentioned, there's this particular chickie.. and well.. she's a CANADIAN chick.. go figure... We're not entirely sure she likes me and that she isn't just being polite to me, "Oh sure..." but we're gonna run with it anyway. ;)
(Actually, no, we're QUITE sure she likes me, very much... and if I left that sentence alone, particularly after her sweet Valentine's eve series of love notes, I'd be in trouble... and that's no way to start a life together... )
Goodbye small town. Goodbye single. Goodbye soccer coach. Goodbye America. Goodbye job. Goodbye church...
Woah.. what's going to be left of me when I go?
All the essential parts of me will still be here.
I have enjoyed very much living in a small town, but I didn't particularly choose this place. They have been good to me. Very good to me! I have really enjoyed coaching soccer, but I have no inherent skills or even love for the sport. I enjoyed the girls - they were great! Can't say I enjoyed being single, but I can say that I got out of it what I needed, and I have most definitely let go of my past relationships and am ready for this new one I'm already in (so it's, um, a good thing, eh?) America? Well... you're hard to ignore. And I'll be living in a border town (okay, border megaopolis), so I have a feeling I won't miss you too much. Job? Pfft... well... it has always been a gap-filler. And it and the church, and the soccer have all sort of helped me get a firmer understanding of what I enjoy doing, and in a larger city, I will have a better opportunity to find something that fits those things.
What a year! I mean, really, what a year! One thing which has NOT changed, though, over this past year. And that is being and knowing that I am very, very blessed.
Who knows what themes will emerge with this blog in the next year? Change will probably be one of them. I'm going to try and stuff my life into five duffel bags and stuff them and my bike into my car and start over. I've always always always wanted to have such little stuff in my life that I could stuff it all in a car and go. I have a couple of weeks to pare things down to see if I can do it. If I manage it, that's another WOW! I am looking forward to trying.
Alright - a few other topics are creeping into my head to write about, but it is clear to me that they are separate posts.
But I wanted to say WOW! and THANK YOU! for an INCREDIBLE year. INCREDIBLE!
Who knew when I started this that this is where it would lead? But I am so grateful it has!
I am blessed.
Showing posts with label #wineparty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #wineparty. Show all posts
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Saturday, December 29, 2012
To The Hostess with the Mostest
A true bonafide text conversation last night:
Her: You going to #wineparty?
Me: No.
Me: You?
Her: Nope
Me: Didn't think so...
Her: I found my soul at that party.
Her: That was its purpose.
Me: Yep. Me, too!
Her: I almost wanna tell Kit
It's been awhile since I've been on #wineparty. But I must take a moment to thank our hostess for introducing me to a wonderful woman, with whom I have fallen deeply in love, and she with me. Consider this our #wineparty confession...
Her: You going to #wineparty?
Me: No.
Me: You?
Her: Nope
Me: Didn't think so...
Her: I found my soul at that party.
Her: That was its purpose.
Me: Yep. Me, too!
Her: I almost wanna tell Kit
It's been awhile since I've been on #wineparty. But I must take a moment to thank our hostess for introducing me to a wonderful woman, with whom I have fallen deeply in love, and she with me. Consider this our #wineparty confession...
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
What if?
I have this post percolating, but I'm not sure how to title it, and I hate that. I find that the title comes to me first and usually helps provide me a unifying theme - keeps me on track once I start typing so that I am semi-cohesive... But the title isn't coming to me at the moment. You, the reader, already know if I came up with something brilliant. Well. No, you don't because you haven't read the post yet, only my verbal throat-clearing.
As I wrote earlier, I firmly believe that sexuality is a spectrum, and that few of us are 100% in one direction or the other. And because God has a sense of humor, I have learned long ago to be very careful in speaking about absolutes. He likes to say, "Oh really?" So I don't tempt him. Because temptation is bad. ;)
As such - avoiding absolutes - I can't tell you that I'm 100% lesbian. But I am amused that for several friends the thought of me with a man makes them laugh out loud. Literally. So, I'm probably pretty close to the end of the spectrum, but I don't rule anything out absolutely. (See above).
The "political" problem about admitting the spectrum, is that it makes that old saying / question "But you just haven't met the right man..." in theory accurate. No. I haven't met the right man. But I don't know if the right man is even out there, or if I'll ever meet him, or why I would have to wait for him anyway. One day, though, I don't discount the remote possibility that there could be a man I might want to share my body with. I have no doubt there is a man out there I might want to share my life with - but my body is a whole different affair.
One of the reasons I leave myself open and am fairly comfortable with the idea of bisexuality is my experience with my second serious relationship. She was unashamedly bisexual. No question. Although I think even the term bisexual wasn't adequate. She described it to me essentially that making love to a person was just a natural extension of her affection for a person. And that makes sense. A lot of sense. And she loved a lot of people. :)
A good friend of mine from college was a lesbian when I met her. Or so she thought. I don't know if she was die-hard or not, but she actually had girlfriends in high school which was more than I had done. So, her lesbianism had been well established.
Until that summer that she lived with a guy. Frankly I don't remember my reaction to that, and a part of me, today, wishes I could. Probably because (ideally) I didn't really have much of a reaction at all. She was happy, she was enjoying his company, and as she has admitted to me now, she was quite happy given all the shagging they were doing (to put it politely). Good for her.
And even as I type this now, I wonder why I should have an opinion on the matter. Why who she sleeps with should matter to me? I mean when we (later) slept together, she certainly knew what she was doing, so.... ;) really isn't that all that should matter to me?
I can't say I thought much either way about her sexuality. I knew her as a lesbian, but I don't think I felt any need to give her a label or re-label her. She was just my friend. (Technically, still is, I should watch those verb tenses!)
Several years out of college she met and married a guy. So? Exactly. So. And about fifteen years later, she got a serious crush and fell in love with another woman. By this time, it was clear that her husband was an ass and that she wasn't particularly attracted to him, and didn't desire him any more. I was absent during many of those fifteen years, so I can't speak much about their marriage and how it went over that time.
But she found herself in a conundrum. In love / lust with a woman and most definitely NOT attracted to a man she'd spent a significant portion of her life with. What was she? Who was she? Was she just a lesbian after all?
She was clearly growing and changing, and her husband was not growing and changing in the same ways, and so she finally made the difficult decision to separate. And then go to hours and hours of therapy to accept her lesbianism.
God does have a sense of humor. He really does laugh.
The girl she fell in love with was a fickle girl. So, it wasn't as if she ran from his arms into hers, and lived happily ever after. Sadly, no. She left him, and now, suddenly available, the woman she was interested in went screaming in the other direction. Ain't that the way it goes? But she knew / realized / understood that the separation from her husband WAS separate from her feelings for this woman, and even though this woman did not remain available, she did not want to return to her marriage.
So she spent several months wondering what the f* was wrong with her?
Last night, I re-read an old post here from during some of this dark time for her. And I admit it broke my heart all over again remembering this. It may be part of why this post is percolating.
Just when she started to accept, maybe I really am just a lesbian, she fell in lust with a guy. And had great mind blowing (yes, I'm jealous) sex with him. Over, and over, and over again. She might even be still having it right this moment as I'm typing this post (and I laugh because she might just tell me she was for spite! *smile*). She's still slept with other women, but she's found a man whose company she really enjoys, and whose body she really enjoys.
Despite my jealousy over the mind blowing sex, I am happy for her.
But boy did that throw her into a whole other tizzy about "What am I? Who am I?" Poor girl. (Don't feel THAT sorry for her, did I mention she gets to keep having mind blowing sex?)
There have been a number of women - often married - who have given me their #wineparty confessions of kissing a girl, or exposing themselves to another woman, and how much they enjoyed it. Some of them wonder if they might want more... I'm a good listener. And I think for many, they may never feel a real pull to have sex with a woman, but their x% of their sexuality that isn't straight recognizes that we are just humans.
All of that, really, is actually an introduction to the topic that was really bouncing around my head this morning. What would it be like, now, having loved women passionately all my life to suddenly develop sexual hormonal feelings for a guy? I've kissed guys before. As in before I realized I was a lesbian. And let's face it, when your eyes are closed, you have no idea what gender you are kissing. Well, unless there is stubbly beard or ticklish mustache, but my kisses with boys were all pre-pubescent prior to facial hair.
There's a guy at work who teases me that I am on his bucket list.
And I enjoy flirting with him and teasing him much as I do many of the women I flirt with. Flirting is fun.
But there is no desire or interest to do anything more with him - which I can't say the same about the some of the women I flirt with.
But what would it be like to wake up one morning with raging hormonal feelings for a man? What would it be like to have these feelings for someone whom I never expected I would? How would that feel? How confusing would it be? What insecurities would surface?
Would I go online and research videos on how to give a blowjob? (They're out there - I know! There is a LOT of advice online about how to give a blowjob!) Would I worry that his interest in me was only for the challenge? (The bucket list). Would I question my whole existence as a lesbian before that? Wonder if I was really stupid and hadn't given men a fair chance like my father asked me when I came out in high school?
I mean I can admit I thought "Wow" when I saw Brad Pitt on the big screen with Geena Davis in Thelma & Louise. And, yeah, if that young cocky cute boy had wanted to have a go with me in bed after I saw it, I might have decided to give it a whirl (Those abs, that smile, his hair falling in his eyes...)
Would I then look back at all those experiences and wonder if maybe they were telling me I was straight after all?
The good news is I'm experienced enough to know that it doesn't have to be a dichotomy - either one or the other. I understand bisexuality exists. I acknowledge its potential.
But still? People laugh at the idea of me with a man. In fact, the bright burning bush fire from God that my ex was losing it was that she accused me of having an affair with a man. Wha-a-a? Okay. Now I know that she's the one who is crazy, not me. And God bless my friends who laughed at that. What would my parents say if I brought home a boy? My exes? My church? What would people think if I had the hots for a man? Fell in lust with a guy?
I admit, the description my friend gave me of the boy she's having mind blowing sex with sounds appealing. She describes him as a lesbian trapped in a man's body - that apparently he actually knows what to do in bed to please a woman as opposed to (I'm assuming) most other men (she's been with). Okay, maybe I could have sex with a lesbian man... ?
I don't know.
For one woman I've been with, I was her first, and to the best of my knowledge so far, her only. And I waited, after we first made love, for her to freak out. She was 40 and just had sex with a woman for the first time. She was a natural, by the way. And it never happened. Later, she started questioning her identity overall... but she knew that she wasn't straight. Frankly, I never felt the need for her to define anything more. She loved me, it didn't really matter, otherwise. But I was amazed that she never freaked out about having just had sex with a woman. I kept waiting for it.. gently probing to make sure she was okay and, well, she was. Wow!
I don't know if I would handle it so gracefully. Although, I guess if there was a guy that was special enough for me to consider sharing myself with him that way, well, then... I guess / hope that it would just make sense. Just be what was natural, and like my former lover, not be so shocking.
I don't know.
But it was what I was thinking about, randomly, this morning. And thought I'd share with you.
As I wrote earlier, I firmly believe that sexuality is a spectrum, and that few of us are 100% in one direction or the other. And because God has a sense of humor, I have learned long ago to be very careful in speaking about absolutes. He likes to say, "Oh really?" So I don't tempt him. Because temptation is bad. ;)
As such - avoiding absolutes - I can't tell you that I'm 100% lesbian. But I am amused that for several friends the thought of me with a man makes them laugh out loud. Literally. So, I'm probably pretty close to the end of the spectrum, but I don't rule anything out absolutely. (See above).
The "political" problem about admitting the spectrum, is that it makes that old saying / question "But you just haven't met the right man..." in theory accurate. No. I haven't met the right man. But I don't know if the right man is even out there, or if I'll ever meet him, or why I would have to wait for him anyway. One day, though, I don't discount the remote possibility that there could be a man I might want to share my body with. I have no doubt there is a man out there I might want to share my life with - but my body is a whole different affair.
One of the reasons I leave myself open and am fairly comfortable with the idea of bisexuality is my experience with my second serious relationship. She was unashamedly bisexual. No question. Although I think even the term bisexual wasn't adequate. She described it to me essentially that making love to a person was just a natural extension of her affection for a person. And that makes sense. A lot of sense. And she loved a lot of people. :)
A good friend of mine from college was a lesbian when I met her. Or so she thought. I don't know if she was die-hard or not, but she actually had girlfriends in high school which was more than I had done. So, her lesbianism had been well established.
Until that summer that she lived with a guy. Frankly I don't remember my reaction to that, and a part of me, today, wishes I could. Probably because (ideally) I didn't really have much of a reaction at all. She was happy, she was enjoying his company, and as she has admitted to me now, she was quite happy given all the shagging they were doing (to put it politely). Good for her.
And even as I type this now, I wonder why I should have an opinion on the matter. Why who she sleeps with should matter to me? I mean when we (later) slept together, she certainly knew what she was doing, so.... ;) really isn't that all that should matter to me?
I can't say I thought much either way about her sexuality. I knew her as a lesbian, but I don't think I felt any need to give her a label or re-label her. She was just my friend. (Technically, still is, I should watch those verb tenses!)
Several years out of college she met and married a guy. So? Exactly. So. And about fifteen years later, she got a serious crush and fell in love with another woman. By this time, it was clear that her husband was an ass and that she wasn't particularly attracted to him, and didn't desire him any more. I was absent during many of those fifteen years, so I can't speak much about their marriage and how it went over that time.
But she found herself in a conundrum. In love / lust with a woman and most definitely NOT attracted to a man she'd spent a significant portion of her life with. What was she? Who was she? Was she just a lesbian after all?
She was clearly growing and changing, and her husband was not growing and changing in the same ways, and so she finally made the difficult decision to separate. And then go to hours and hours of therapy to accept her lesbianism.
God does have a sense of humor. He really does laugh.
The girl she fell in love with was a fickle girl. So, it wasn't as if she ran from his arms into hers, and lived happily ever after. Sadly, no. She left him, and now, suddenly available, the woman she was interested in went screaming in the other direction. Ain't that the way it goes? But she knew / realized / understood that the separation from her husband WAS separate from her feelings for this woman, and even though this woman did not remain available, she did not want to return to her marriage.
So she spent several months wondering what the f* was wrong with her?
Last night, I re-read an old post here from during some of this dark time for her. And I admit it broke my heart all over again remembering this. It may be part of why this post is percolating.
Just when she started to accept, maybe I really am just a lesbian, she fell in lust with a guy. And had great mind blowing (yes, I'm jealous) sex with him. Over, and over, and over again. She might even be still having it right this moment as I'm typing this post (and I laugh because she might just tell me she was for spite! *smile*). She's still slept with other women, but she's found a man whose company she really enjoys, and whose body she really enjoys.
Despite my jealousy over the mind blowing sex, I am happy for her.
But boy did that throw her into a whole other tizzy about "What am I? Who am I?" Poor girl. (Don't feel THAT sorry for her, did I mention she gets to keep having mind blowing sex?)
There have been a number of women - often married - who have given me their #wineparty confessions of kissing a girl, or exposing themselves to another woman, and how much they enjoyed it. Some of them wonder if they might want more... I'm a good listener. And I think for many, they may never feel a real pull to have sex with a woman, but their x% of their sexuality that isn't straight recognizes that we are just humans.
All of that, really, is actually an introduction to the topic that was really bouncing around my head this morning. What would it be like, now, having loved women passionately all my life to suddenly develop sexual hormonal feelings for a guy? I've kissed guys before. As in before I realized I was a lesbian. And let's face it, when your eyes are closed, you have no idea what gender you are kissing. Well, unless there is stubbly beard or ticklish mustache, but my kisses with boys were all pre-pubescent prior to facial hair.
There's a guy at work who teases me that I am on his bucket list.
And I enjoy flirting with him and teasing him much as I do many of the women I flirt with. Flirting is fun.
But there is no desire or interest to do anything more with him - which I can't say the same about the some of the women I flirt with.
But what would it be like to wake up one morning with raging hormonal feelings for a man? What would it be like to have these feelings for someone whom I never expected I would? How would that feel? How confusing would it be? What insecurities would surface?
Would I go online and research videos on how to give a blowjob? (They're out there - I know! There is a LOT of advice online about how to give a blowjob!) Would I worry that his interest in me was only for the challenge? (The bucket list). Would I question my whole existence as a lesbian before that? Wonder if I was really stupid and hadn't given men a fair chance like my father asked me when I came out in high school?
I mean I can admit I thought "Wow" when I saw Brad Pitt on the big screen with Geena Davis in Thelma & Louise. And, yeah, if that young cocky cute boy had wanted to have a go with me in bed after I saw it, I might have decided to give it a whirl (Those abs, that smile, his hair falling in his eyes...)
Would I then look back at all those experiences and wonder if maybe they were telling me I was straight after all?
The good news is I'm experienced enough to know that it doesn't have to be a dichotomy - either one or the other. I understand bisexuality exists. I acknowledge its potential.
But still? People laugh at the idea of me with a man. In fact, the bright burning bush fire from God that my ex was losing it was that she accused me of having an affair with a man. Wha-a-a? Okay. Now I know that she's the one who is crazy, not me. And God bless my friends who laughed at that. What would my parents say if I brought home a boy? My exes? My church? What would people think if I had the hots for a man? Fell in lust with a guy?
I admit, the description my friend gave me of the boy she's having mind blowing sex with sounds appealing. She describes him as a lesbian trapped in a man's body - that apparently he actually knows what to do in bed to please a woman as opposed to (I'm assuming) most other men (she's been with). Okay, maybe I could have sex with a lesbian man... ?
I don't know.
For one woman I've been with, I was her first, and to the best of my knowledge so far, her only. And I waited, after we first made love, for her to freak out. She was 40 and just had sex with a woman for the first time. She was a natural, by the way. And it never happened. Later, she started questioning her identity overall... but she knew that she wasn't straight. Frankly, I never felt the need for her to define anything more. She loved me, it didn't really matter, otherwise. But I was amazed that she never freaked out about having just had sex with a woman. I kept waiting for it.. gently probing to make sure she was okay and, well, she was. Wow!
I don't know if I would handle it so gracefully. Although, I guess if there was a guy that was special enough for me to consider sharing myself with him that way, well, then... I guess / hope that it would just make sense. Just be what was natural, and like my former lover, not be so shocking.
I don't know.
But it was what I was thinking about, randomly, this morning. And thought I'd share with you.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Looking out the bars...
So, I am in Twitter jail. Again!
This time, though, I can see out the bars and watch the people talking about me. And I can send messages to friends, er, followers, but I can't send direct messages to those who don't....
It's a whole new level of TwitterJail. Just watching helplessly, trying to mount your defense, but being kept from those witnesses you think can help.
Okay, maybe it's not quite like that.
Tonight I used Tweetdeck for the first time for #wineparty. Back in early June I was given the suggesting of Tweetdeck and Hootsuite as alternatives to using my iPhone for #wineparty. I opened up Hootsuite first, and while I also opened up Tweetdeck at the time, to my untrained and unexperienced eye, they looked the same.
And both, frankly, took my breath away, and I spent WAY too much time customizing and figuring it out. I stuck with Hootsuite because I couldn't appreciate the differences not knowing what I was doing.
But while I could now SEE #wineparty in a separate column on Hootsuite - and still watch my mentions - (different than my unmentionables!), I could never expand a conversation. That's driven me nuts all summer - because I felt like I was just catching snippets of conversation over the din, and had a hard time diving into the conversations.
Tweetdeck is fantastic! Tweetdeck gives you "streams" like in Hootsuite, so you can watch multiple lines of chatter, er, tweeting, but you can actually expand and see the whole conversation not just the final tweet for #wineparty (you could do it in other streams on Hootsuite, just not hashtag streams, it seems).
Oh, I'm in love.
And, um, in jail.
Oops!
This time, though, I can see out the bars and watch the people talking about me. And I can send messages to friends, er, followers, but I can't send direct messages to those who don't....
It's a whole new level of TwitterJail. Just watching helplessly, trying to mount your defense, but being kept from those witnesses you think can help.
Okay, maybe it's not quite like that.
Tonight I used Tweetdeck for the first time for #wineparty. Back in early June I was given the suggesting of Tweetdeck and Hootsuite as alternatives to using my iPhone for #wineparty. I opened up Hootsuite first, and while I also opened up Tweetdeck at the time, to my untrained and unexperienced eye, they looked the same.
And both, frankly, took my breath away, and I spent WAY too much time customizing and figuring it out. I stuck with Hootsuite because I couldn't appreciate the differences not knowing what I was doing.
But while I could now SEE #wineparty in a separate column on Hootsuite - and still watch my mentions - (different than my unmentionables!), I could never expand a conversation. That's driven me nuts all summer - because I felt like I was just catching snippets of conversation over the din, and had a hard time diving into the conversations.
Tweetdeck is fantastic! Tweetdeck gives you "streams" like in Hootsuite, so you can watch multiple lines of chatter, er, tweeting, but you can actually expand and see the whole conversation not just the final tweet for #wineparty (you could do it in other streams on Hootsuite, just not hashtag streams, it seems).
Oh, I'm in love.
And, um, in jail.
Oops!
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Butt rubbing...
or.. Another #wineparty post...
It's been a few weeks since I've written a #wineparty post. Not that it's been a few weeks since I was at #wineparty. In fact a recent one was hysterical and I wanted to write a post, but I got tired too quickly, then there was soccer, and I think I was there late collecting money and counting it (and having the bank think I was a stripper) to write it the next day...
And then just as quickly as it happened, it was gone...
But it was good. And you missed it. Unless you didn't.. but now I don't remember it...
Tonight I had a lot of private and not-so-private conversations at #wineparty. I was over in that corner behind the lamp, so some of you missed me.
At one point, though, our hostess - Kit - @blogdangerously - asked if anyone would rub her ass because she was feeling sore from running. Tonight, however, is a special night for Kit (although they're celebrating tomorrow) as it was her tenth wedding anniversary. So, I told her, politely, that I would kiss it, but I wouldn't rub it, because let's face it, that would be foreplay, and it just didn't seem right to do that to her on her anniversary.
And really, that almost died where it was - although I thought it was funny - until someone else accused me of causing trouble in response to another tweet that was, actually harmless. This, also in response to our hostess, was about everyone moving and me stating that I wasn't.
Moi? Cause trouble? Nah. Never. I'm sweet. I'm innocent. I'm cube shaped. And I didn't take advantage of our hostess, even though she invited such trouble.
Then someone else wandered into the conversation and wondered if butt rubbing were the secret handshake.
No, it would be butt shake, but that's a different direction, and I was polite enough not to say anything like that.
See? I'm good.
;)
Then another coming into the conversation late (and, of course, by this time our hostess had long since moved on to find someone else who might actually rub her ass (or I'm assuming that's what she went on to do...)) and I was, once again, explaining how polite and restrained I was. And he responded with something silly like, "Haha and obviously she'd never be able to withstand your charms yeah?" To which I responded (of course) "Duh!"
Okay, maybe I was a bit rude there.
But otherwise, I was a perfect cube all evening. Despite temptation. I mean I can't tell you how long it's been since a woman invited me to rub her ass...
(Invitations can be sent to theborgblog@gmail.com ;) )
Good night, folks. As always, it hasn't been a dull evening, and it has certainly put a smile on my face!
THE FINE PRINT: #wineparty is a registered trademark (oh, wait, not registered trademark... um....) of Kit of Blogging Dangerously If you don't already read her blog, do. It's hilarious, and #wineparty is her creation!
It's been a few weeks since I've written a #wineparty post. Not that it's been a few weeks since I was at #wineparty. In fact a recent one was hysterical and I wanted to write a post, but I got tired too quickly, then there was soccer, and I think I was there late collecting money and counting it (and having the bank think I was a stripper) to write it the next day...
And then just as quickly as it happened, it was gone...
But it was good. And you missed it. Unless you didn't.. but now I don't remember it...
Tonight I had a lot of private and not-so-private conversations at #wineparty. I was over in that corner behind the lamp, so some of you missed me.
At one point, though, our hostess - Kit - @blogdangerously - asked if anyone would rub her ass because she was feeling sore from running. Tonight, however, is a special night for Kit (although they're celebrating tomorrow) as it was her tenth wedding anniversary. So, I told her, politely, that I would kiss it, but I wouldn't rub it, because let's face it, that would be foreplay, and it just didn't seem right to do that to her on her anniversary.
And really, that almost died where it was - although I thought it was funny - until someone else accused me of causing trouble in response to another tweet that was, actually harmless. This, also in response to our hostess, was about everyone moving and me stating that I wasn't.
Moi? Cause trouble? Nah. Never. I'm sweet. I'm innocent. I'm cube shaped. And I didn't take advantage of our hostess, even though she invited such trouble.
Then someone else wandered into the conversation and wondered if butt rubbing were the secret handshake.
No, it would be butt shake, but that's a different direction, and I was polite enough not to say anything like that.
See? I'm good.
;)
Then another coming into the conversation late (and, of course, by this time our hostess had long since moved on to find someone else who might actually rub her ass (or I'm assuming that's what she went on to do...)) and I was, once again, explaining how polite and restrained I was. And he responded with something silly like, "Haha and obviously she'd never be able to withstand your charms yeah?" To which I responded (of course) "Duh!"
Okay, maybe I was a bit rude there.
But otherwise, I was a perfect cube all evening. Despite temptation. I mean I can't tell you how long it's been since a woman invited me to rub her ass...
(Invitations can be sent to theborgblog@gmail.com ;) )
Good night, folks. As always, it hasn't been a dull evening, and it has certainly put a smile on my face!
THE FINE PRINT: #wineparty is a registered trademark (oh, wait, not registered trademark... um....) of Kit of Blogging Dangerously If you don't already read her blog, do. It's hilarious, and #wineparty is her creation!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Inane Blog Posts
Every once in awhile I happen to be one of the earliest responders to one of Jenny's blog entries. This always results in a flood of traffic for people to check out what was my latest blog post.
Unfortunately, typically, my latest blog post isn't always that exciting. For example, my Twitter Jail Again post was short and sweet and basically a way to get the message out to folks at #wineparty last week that I was out of commission. Like that girl who steps outside to vomit after drinking too much and you wonder where she went. Well, sorta like that. I've only gotten drunk enough to throw up once. And that, after all, was in college, and not entirely my fault.
I would be curious to hear how readers would describe my blog if they were mentioning it to a friend. I think it is a combination of some heartfelt life lessons and experience and with quite a bit of humorous enjoyment of life as well. There are, for example, shower posts - those posts that come to me in the shower and might be so silly as to explain how it is that I can determine whether or not I've shampooed (strawberry scented shampoo, btw). There's the Sticks & Stones series that has actually stuck with me quite a bit, and I've returned to at various times when I'm upset.
And then there's the #wineparty posts.
I am certain that many of my blogsphere / Twitter friends tune into my blog on Saturday mornings to find out the latest hijinks from #wineparty. (Because I like to think *I'm* just THAT special!) I mean "amish big boob sex "was one of the searches that tracked down my blog this week, and so the #wineparty hijinks draw lots of folks.
The truth is that my two top sources of readers can all usually trace back to either Jenny or Kit. Two wonderfully wonderfully impressive and enjoyable bloggers. (And frankly, I think I found Kit through Jenny, soo... it all traces back to The Bloggess).
But really, I owe a debt of tremendous gratitude to Kit for the success of my blog, and for the amusing success of my #wineparty posts.
Because #wineparty is her creation. I just sacrificed myself and re-read the beginning of her blog to find her first post about #wineparty and confirmed it was also her first post about Twitter Jail (technically: The Sex is Good in Jail). You're welcome.
If you read the post (which I highly recommend you do) she suggests it as a much more effective alternative to #FF (Follow Friday) - which I admit I suck at! Good thing is I'm pretty good at #wineparty. It's easy - get enough drunk people in one place and I seem pretty funny. Check out the most recent comment to Seven Children by Eleven Daddies from earlier this morning for further proof. ;)
Unfortunatley, I was exhausted last night and tried to sack out before #wineparty started - so no amusing stories today. Of course I couldn't sleep, and briefly made an appearance afraid I was going to fall asleep at any moment, and, um, didn't. One of my IRL friends even texted me at one point, but wanted to make sure she wasn't interrupting #wineparty. I'm sure she's one of those regular Saturday morning viewers living her life vicariously through my Twitter experiences (NOT!).
Anyway... in the shower this morning, I was thinking about how the most inane posts are the most "recent" whenever I comment to Jenny... and I was thinking about how you folks might be looking for your vicarious #wineparty fix (don't be lurkers, join the fun), and I was thinking about how it'd been a week and I'd written nothing. At least nothing published here.
And that, my friends, is what lead to this rambling post. You're welcome. Enjoy!
Unfortunately, typically, my latest blog post isn't always that exciting. For example, my Twitter Jail Again post was short and sweet and basically a way to get the message out to folks at #wineparty last week that I was out of commission. Like that girl who steps outside to vomit after drinking too much and you wonder where she went. Well, sorta like that. I've only gotten drunk enough to throw up once. And that, after all, was in college, and not entirely my fault.
I would be curious to hear how readers would describe my blog if they were mentioning it to a friend. I think it is a combination of some heartfelt life lessons and experience and with quite a bit of humorous enjoyment of life as well. There are, for example, shower posts - those posts that come to me in the shower and might be so silly as to explain how it is that I can determine whether or not I've shampooed (strawberry scented shampoo, btw). There's the Sticks & Stones series that has actually stuck with me quite a bit, and I've returned to at various times when I'm upset.
And then there's the #wineparty posts.
I am certain that many of my blogsphere / Twitter friends tune into my blog on Saturday mornings to find out the latest hijinks from #wineparty. (Because I like to think *I'm* just THAT special!) I mean "amish big boob sex "was one of the searches that tracked down my blog this week, and so the #wineparty hijinks draw lots of folks.
The truth is that my two top sources of readers can all usually trace back to either Jenny or Kit. Two wonderfully wonderfully impressive and enjoyable bloggers. (And frankly, I think I found Kit through Jenny, soo... it all traces back to The Bloggess).
But really, I owe a debt of tremendous gratitude to Kit for the success of my blog, and for the amusing success of my #wineparty posts.
Because #wineparty is her creation. I just sacrificed myself and re-read the beginning of her blog to find her first post about #wineparty and confirmed it was also her first post about Twitter Jail (technically: The Sex is Good in Jail). You're welcome.
If you read the post (which I highly recommend you do) she suggests it as a much more effective alternative to #FF (Follow Friday) - which I admit I suck at! Good thing is I'm pretty good at #wineparty. It's easy - get enough drunk people in one place and I seem pretty funny. Check out the most recent comment to Seven Children by Eleven Daddies from earlier this morning for further proof. ;)
Unfortunatley, I was exhausted last night and tried to sack out before #wineparty started - so no amusing stories today. Of course I couldn't sleep, and briefly made an appearance afraid I was going to fall asleep at any moment, and, um, didn't. One of my IRL friends even texted me at one point, but wanted to make sure she wasn't interrupting #wineparty. I'm sure she's one of those regular Saturday morning viewers living her life vicariously through my Twitter experiences (NOT!).
Anyway... in the shower this morning, I was thinking about how the most inane posts are the most "recent" whenever I comment to Jenny... and I was thinking about how you folks might be looking for your vicarious #wineparty fix (don't be lurkers, join the fun), and I was thinking about how it'd been a week and I'd written nothing. At least nothing published here.
And that, my friends, is what lead to this rambling post. You're welcome. Enjoy!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Twitter Jail. Again.
I guess I was too much the social butterfly on Twitter tonight.. I am "forbidden" to Tweet. Forbidden? Really? I can't remember the last time I was "forbidden"... ;)
Ah well..
-------------
UPDATED: (getting a lot of traffic to this post from The Bloggess)
To read more about WHY I was in Twitter Jail, check out my previous #wineparty post Seven Children by Eleven Daddies
Also check out my post Welcome Lawsbians to learn a little about my tenuous connection to Jenny! ;)
Ah well..
-------------
UPDATED: (getting a lot of traffic to this post from The Bloggess)
To read more about WHY I was in Twitter Jail, check out my previous #wineparty post Seven Children by Eleven Daddies
Also check out my post Welcome Lawsbians to learn a little about my tenuous connection to Jenny! ;)
Seven Children by Eleven Daddies
Tonight on Maury Povich... Oh, wait, no. Tonight at #wineparty, this was the Maury show me and another partygoer put together - 7 illegitimate children by 11 different daddies. She came a little punch-drunk to the party - given that she was across the pond, and it was later, we understood. Of course the Amish Swingers were discussed. How else would she get eleven daddies?
The reality is it didn't really matter what time zone she was in (it was merely a convenient excuse), we never mind when people start #wineparty early or when they go late. Even the next day sometimes.. there are frequent attempts to restart #wineparty on a Saturday.
This week's topics included the Blue Moon, the farting contest the dog I'm sitting with THINKS I started (and which she DEFINITELY finished!), the Labor day weekend and barbecues, one woman's "Got Wine" t-shirt being highlighted, husbands giving foot massages, and one #wineparty confession, even.
There was also a trend on Virgo babies, and speculating on what kinda holidays the parents had.... which when we started talking about holiday hide the pickle we kinda traumatized one of the birthday girls. Ooops...
It's starting to wind down now... but the best part about #wineparty is that it doesn't matter how crappy my day or my week has been, these folks always seem to make me smile. And what better way is there to end the week?
The reality is it didn't really matter what time zone she was in (it was merely a convenient excuse), we never mind when people start #wineparty early or when they go late. Even the next day sometimes.. there are frequent attempts to restart #wineparty on a Saturday.
This week's topics included the Blue Moon, the farting contest the dog I'm sitting with THINKS I started (and which she DEFINITELY finished!), the Labor day weekend and barbecues, one woman's "Got Wine" t-shirt being highlighted, husbands giving foot massages, and one #wineparty confession, even.
There was also a trend on Virgo babies, and speculating on what kinda holidays the parents had.... which when we started talking about holiday hide the pickle we kinda traumatized one of the birthday girls. Ooops...
It's starting to wind down now... but the best part about #wineparty is that it doesn't matter how crappy my day or my week has been, these folks always seem to make me smile. And what better way is there to end the week?
Friday, August 24, 2012
Dog Sitting
Many of you may have noticed in the last 10 days or so a certain "dog" like theme entering my posts and tweets. Some have boldly wondered and directly enquired whether I was dog sitting or not.
Yes, I am. But because I over-analyze and over-think things sometimes, I also became very amused that *this* was the question (more than once) asked in response to the sudden influx of canine characterizations.
I do amuse easily.
But I am amused because it has become clear that in 160ish posts or so, and 4,300+ 140 character tweets or so that YOU KNOW that if a dog were to suddenly enter my life, it probably would not be mine. That you all have gotten to know me so well to know that as much as I may love pups, I am not prepared for one of my own, and that I *KNOW* I'm not prepared for one of my own.
To be clear, I've had pets before. I've even had two dogs and two cats at the same time - and frankly, I do miss them dearly. But I was not raising them as a single parent, and while one day I hope to have the life and the patience that I could be a single parent (to someone of the feline or canine persuasion), I do know that right now that I do not have it in me. (Clearly, though I would prefer NOT to be a *single* parent, but I won't avoid the joy and companionship of an animal simply because I may be lacking human companionship, too)
While at some level joking (and being serious, too) about "parenting" animals, some of the same reasons I know better than to have a pet also led to my choice not to have real kidlings (the human variety). I have a lot of Mommy bloggers as readers and followers and I admire how hard it is to raise a child today. How easy, for example, it is to give into their every whine and demand. How hard it is to avoid raising holy terrors (wait, this isn't sounding as complimentary as I intended it to.. maybe my fingers are still tied in knots? Told you the Borg isn't always graceful....)
Well, gees, how do I get myself out of this hole? By admitting it wasn't entirely unrelated.
Yesterday I stumbled across another Mommy blog (there *DO* seem to be a lot of you out there!) reading Kit's latest post about Blogher, and how one of her valuable take-aways was meeting Babe_Chilla and how if she'd just rented a beach house she would have missed such a wonderful time.
I'll be honest, if Kit likes someone, I'm interested in learning more. And not just because she likes me... ;)
But, frankly, partly because she reminds me of my best friend and so she seems familiar to me, seems to have good taste, and because of her #wineparty, I met many of you. So, if Kit devotes a whole blog post to someone else, I'm gonna check her out. So I did.
Babe_Chilla's post yesterday was about Pushing Boundaries. And how much fun it is trying to train, er, teach young ones about boundaries. How to train, er, teach a young one how to behave well by showing that bad behavior will not be rewarded.
And I loved the blog entry and felt her pain, and I think that's why what started out very sweet and wonderful and supporting towards Mommies above started to appear to (although not intending to) venture into "snarky" control your holy terrors. Wait, I didn't actually say that above... *phew*
But I have often felt (as a non-parent, favorite aunt, soccer coach, girl scout leader, someone-who-always-gets-to-send-the-kids-back-kind-of-person) that this is really the keystone to good parenting (well, up there with feeding and clothing and changing diapers). Setting and maintaining boundaries. And I think it is also the keystone to managing relationships at any age.
BORG BLOG ASIDE: [And I hate writing that all at the same time because I hate the idea of setting "boundaries" with someone who I am close to, or someone I am intimate with or someone I trust. A part of me rebels at the idea that someone I would trust would need boundaries, and that is because, I guess, in an ideal world they wouldn't. They would know what is safe and what is not safe, what is appropriate and what is not appropriate. And frankly, that is a post for another day, perhaps, because I feel that one of the reasons my marriage failed was because I was not good at setting appropriate boundaries. (And while my fingers are itching to type more, my brain reminds them that this post is titled "DOG SITTING" - boundaries, dear fingers, boundaries!)]
As a non-parent, I have gently tread, but nonetheless frequently have made analogies and comparisons to dog training. Reward good behavior, ignore, discourage don't tolerate bad behavior. And that if you want a dog that doesn't get on the couch or bed or counter, then NEVER let them on the couch, bed or counter. Cesar Milan will tell you that dogs need structure, need boundaries. And they are constantly, like children, exploring to find out where they are. (They also need lots of exercise and activity to keep from getting bored, but, again, that's another aside). And if you allow them to get on the couch once and don't push them down because you're tired of doing it, they'll learn that there are certain times when it's okay to get on the couch, and they'll keep trying and testing to see "Now? is Now? a good time? Now? Now?"
A friend of mine has an adult son who has come home after a year of college and is taking a break. He's a good guy, from what I can see - I've just gotten to know him this spring and haven't had a lot of time to spend with him. He is working and not spending all his days playing video games (like I did in early 2011 when I wasn't working...). And she spoils him. He's her kid, and at the moment, she has to live with him, so it's completely her choice, decision, etc., how she wants to treat him and what expectations she wants to create in him - I'm not judging her here on these choices / decisions, or at least I am trying not to.
I do believe that he loves her, but it is hard for a third person to hear that in the way he speaks to her and the way that he demands certain things from her. None of them is unreasonable. And probably all of them are tasks she wants to do for him. And I support that. But it breaks my heart, I will admit, to hear, nonetheless, how this nineteen year old young man seems to expect these things, and seems to demand these things, without some exhibition of or expression of (that I can see) appreciation for what she does for him.
Before you "jump" on me (and really I put that it in quotes, because so far, dear readers, you have not shown yourselves to be the jumping kind - you have been good listeners and kind and supportive), I recognize whole-heartedly that I see just a slice of their interaction. And I do sincerely hope that there is something in his behavior in response that makes it worth her while to provide so much for him - more than simply a love of a mother for her child. (Although maybe that should be enough?) I recognize that there is (or hope that there is) more to the story than I see and that I relate above.
But I admit, lately, I have been much more aware, much more sensitive in listening to others interactions with each other. Hearing when someone demands something of another and whether there is kindness or underlying understanding or appreciation for the other person's compliance. (Wow, fingers, DOG SITTING!!!! Where are you going? Bad fingers...No, wait, there is a circular point...).
Babe_Chilla writes in her blog entry about a whining 30-month old girl. Each time her daughter demands in a way that is not appropriate, she responds to her as such. She illustrates with a demand her daughter made for water (all in CAPS). At the first demand, Chilla patiently responds: “OK my darling, how do we ask properly?” Baby girl tries again. Repeats what she's just said, and adds "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" to the end of it. A good start, but not what Chilla was looking for, so she goes another few rounds with her until her daughter finally gets it right.
Painful even reading it, I can't even imagine how much fun it is to do. But I really praise Babe_Chilla for her persistence. As I started to write two paragraphs above before I told my fingers they were wandering off topic, I really hear how we, as adults, often communicate with each other in the form of demands. So often without a please or a thank you, or even some acknowledgment that we are requesting another human being to do something that they don't actually need to do for us. And I think that's because as adults we often forget or don't even realize that the other person doesn't need to do ANYTHING for us and that each thing they do - even if they *are* being paid for it or otherwise rewarded - is a gift of their time, actions, kindness, etc., towards us or others.
Babe_Chilla could just give in when she hears the word "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" added in - Lord knows that is more than I often hear in daily interactions between folks - but she hasn't. Yes, daughter has made progress, but Babe_Chilla recognizes that this is still NOT the manner in which she wants her daughter asking for something, and she does her best to remain strong until she teaches her daughter exactly how it should be done. I think that she does this for her daughter, for herself, and for all of us. And I appreciate her for doing so.
Each night this puppy has a bed time routine that clearly I never concocted. We are establishing our own routines in this three week period, but this is one that she has ingrained and I was given clear instruction regarding. It has taken me awhile to recognize, at night, when she comes to me and tries to get my attention that it isn't because she needs to pee, but because she is afraid I will forget her night-time treat routine. (She trained me on this by several experiences where I took her out and she didn't pee) She doesn't care if I'm late with her morning chew, and often won't even whine if I'm late for dinner, but her bed-time routine she is pretty adamant about.
And frankly, I don't mind giving into her to do this routine because I think it's a wonderful exercise in rewarding good behavior. There are two kinds of treats that are given in some quantity each night. But each part of the treat is given in response to some pre-trained behavior she is supposed to do. The first half of the Beggin Strips goes to her after she properly shakes, for example. The second when she does the next trick. Etc., etc. So I appreciate this nightly exercise in reinforcing good behavior and I am trying really hard not to untrain this well behaved dog.
I admit I am not as good on our walks. She has been trained to stop at every corner and sit. And when I've walked her in the past with her owner, this is what we've done. This is a good exercise, and good reinforcement to sit and stop on command particularly in light of a potentially dangerous situation. I support the exercise in theory. But frankly, usually on our walks, I'm just not thinking about it, and she doesn't feel the need to remind me. Fortunately we often walk in circles and don't cross the street, or walk on long bike paths without such intersections. I hope my lack of discipline in these areas will simply affect her like that of a grandmother where the rules might be slightly different and that I don't undo all of her good training!
Alrighty, then, I think we're near the point where I'm supposed to neatly wrap this all into a ball and into some sort of conclusion. I began this post partly to express my amusement how in such a short period of time we've both been so successful in you getting to know me. That you recognize - what I'd like to think - is my ability to be responsible and not to take on a commitment that I am not prepared to do, so that if there were suddenly a canine in my life, it must be temporary. Talking about responsible pet ownership or choosing ownership responsibly, I made a connection to my choice not to be a parent. This led me to discuss the connections I do see between owner (or caretaker in this case) and dog and parent and child, and I wanted to tie the two together particularly with Babe_Chilla's post still fresh in my mind.
And, lastly, then I wanted to encourage and support all of the parents out there in the efforts you make and the hard work it takes to produce good, responsible, respectful and caring children. Particularly understanding that these children will become adults and the lessons you teach them painfully at 30-months will be more than amply rewarded by the wonderful human beings you create to go out and interact with the rest of the world. And as part of the rest of the world, I thank you.
Yes, I am. But because I over-analyze and over-think things sometimes, I also became very amused that *this* was the question (more than once) asked in response to the sudden influx of canine characterizations.
I do amuse easily.
But I am amused because it has become clear that in 160ish posts or so, and 4,300+ 140 character tweets or so that YOU KNOW that if a dog were to suddenly enter my life, it probably would not be mine. That you all have gotten to know me so well to know that as much as I may love pups, I am not prepared for one of my own, and that I *KNOW* I'm not prepared for one of my own.
To be clear, I've had pets before. I've even had two dogs and two cats at the same time - and frankly, I do miss them dearly. But I was not raising them as a single parent, and while one day I hope to have the life and the patience that I could be a single parent (to someone of the feline or canine persuasion), I do know that right now that I do not have it in me. (Clearly, though I would prefer NOT to be a *single* parent, but I won't avoid the joy and companionship of an animal simply because I may be lacking human companionship, too)
While at some level joking (and being serious, too) about "parenting" animals, some of the same reasons I know better than to have a pet also led to my choice not to have real kidlings (the human variety). I have a lot of Mommy bloggers as readers and followers and I admire how hard it is to raise a child today. How easy, for example, it is to give into their every whine and demand. How hard it is to avoid raising holy terrors (wait, this isn't sounding as complimentary as I intended it to.. maybe my fingers are still tied in knots? Told you the Borg isn't always graceful....)
Well, gees, how do I get myself out of this hole? By admitting it wasn't entirely unrelated.
Yesterday I stumbled across another Mommy blog (there *DO* seem to be a lot of you out there!) reading Kit's latest post about Blogher, and how one of her valuable take-aways was meeting Babe_Chilla and how if she'd just rented a beach house she would have missed such a wonderful time.
I'll be honest, if Kit likes someone, I'm interested in learning more. And not just because she likes me... ;)
But, frankly, partly because she reminds me of my best friend and so she seems familiar to me, seems to have good taste, and because of her #wineparty, I met many of you. So, if Kit devotes a whole blog post to someone else, I'm gonna check her out. So I did.
Babe_Chilla's post yesterday was about Pushing Boundaries. And how much fun it is trying to train, er, teach young ones about boundaries. How to train, er, teach a young one how to behave well by showing that bad behavior will not be rewarded.
And I loved the blog entry and felt her pain, and I think that's why what started out very sweet and wonderful and supporting towards Mommies above started to appear to (although not intending to) venture into "snarky" control your holy terrors. Wait, I didn't actually say that above... *phew*
But I have often felt (as a non-parent, favorite aunt, soccer coach, girl scout leader, someone-who-always-gets-to-send-the-kids-back-kind-of-person) that this is really the keystone to good parenting (well, up there with feeding and clothing and changing diapers). Setting and maintaining boundaries. And I think it is also the keystone to managing relationships at any age.
BORG BLOG ASIDE: [And I hate writing that all at the same time because I hate the idea of setting "boundaries" with someone who I am close to, or someone I am intimate with or someone I trust. A part of me rebels at the idea that someone I would trust would need boundaries, and that is because, I guess, in an ideal world they wouldn't. They would know what is safe and what is not safe, what is appropriate and what is not appropriate. And frankly, that is a post for another day, perhaps, because I feel that one of the reasons my marriage failed was because I was not good at setting appropriate boundaries. (And while my fingers are itching to type more, my brain reminds them that this post is titled "DOG SITTING" - boundaries, dear fingers, boundaries!)]
As a non-parent, I have gently tread, but nonetheless frequently have made analogies and comparisons to dog training. Reward good behavior, ignore, discourage don't tolerate bad behavior. And that if you want a dog that doesn't get on the couch or bed or counter, then NEVER let them on the couch, bed or counter. Cesar Milan will tell you that dogs need structure, need boundaries. And they are constantly, like children, exploring to find out where they are. (They also need lots of exercise and activity to keep from getting bored, but, again, that's another aside). And if you allow them to get on the couch once and don't push them down because you're tired of doing it, they'll learn that there are certain times when it's okay to get on the couch, and they'll keep trying and testing to see "Now? is Now? a good time? Now? Now?"
A friend of mine has an adult son who has come home after a year of college and is taking a break. He's a good guy, from what I can see - I've just gotten to know him this spring and haven't had a lot of time to spend with him. He is working and not spending all his days playing video games (like I did in early 2011 when I wasn't working...). And she spoils him. He's her kid, and at the moment, she has to live with him, so it's completely her choice, decision, etc., how she wants to treat him and what expectations she wants to create in him - I'm not judging her here on these choices / decisions, or at least I am trying not to.
I do believe that he loves her, but it is hard for a third person to hear that in the way he speaks to her and the way that he demands certain things from her. None of them is unreasonable. And probably all of them are tasks she wants to do for him. And I support that. But it breaks my heart, I will admit, to hear, nonetheless, how this nineteen year old young man seems to expect these things, and seems to demand these things, without some exhibition of or expression of (that I can see) appreciation for what she does for him.
Before you "jump" on me (and really I put that it in quotes, because so far, dear readers, you have not shown yourselves to be the jumping kind - you have been good listeners and kind and supportive), I recognize whole-heartedly that I see just a slice of their interaction. And I do sincerely hope that there is something in his behavior in response that makes it worth her while to provide so much for him - more than simply a love of a mother for her child. (Although maybe that should be enough?) I recognize that there is (or hope that there is) more to the story than I see and that I relate above.
But I admit, lately, I have been much more aware, much more sensitive in listening to others interactions with each other. Hearing when someone demands something of another and whether there is kindness or underlying understanding or appreciation for the other person's compliance. (Wow, fingers, DOG SITTING!!!! Where are you going? Bad fingers...No, wait, there is a circular point...).
Babe_Chilla writes in her blog entry about a whining 30-month old girl. Each time her daughter demands in a way that is not appropriate, she responds to her as such. She illustrates with a demand her daughter made for water (all in CAPS). At the first demand, Chilla patiently responds: “OK my darling, how do we ask properly?” Baby girl tries again. Repeats what she's just said, and adds "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" to the end of it. A good start, but not what Chilla was looking for, so she goes another few rounds with her until her daughter finally gets it right.
Painful even reading it, I can't even imagine how much fun it is to do. But I really praise Babe_Chilla for her persistence. As I started to write two paragraphs above before I told my fingers they were wandering off topic, I really hear how we, as adults, often communicate with each other in the form of demands. So often without a please or a thank you, or even some acknowledgment that we are requesting another human being to do something that they don't actually need to do for us. And I think that's because as adults we often forget or don't even realize that the other person doesn't need to do ANYTHING for us and that each thing they do - even if they *are* being paid for it or otherwise rewarded - is a gift of their time, actions, kindness, etc., towards us or others.
Babe_Chilla could just give in when she hears the word "PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE" added in - Lord knows that is more than I often hear in daily interactions between folks - but she hasn't. Yes, daughter has made progress, but Babe_Chilla recognizes that this is still NOT the manner in which she wants her daughter asking for something, and she does her best to remain strong until she teaches her daughter exactly how it should be done. I think that she does this for her daughter, for herself, and for all of us. And I appreciate her for doing so.
Each night this puppy has a bed time routine that clearly I never concocted. We are establishing our own routines in this three week period, but this is one that she has ingrained and I was given clear instruction regarding. It has taken me awhile to recognize, at night, when she comes to me and tries to get my attention that it isn't because she needs to pee, but because she is afraid I will forget her night-time treat routine. (She trained me on this by several experiences where I took her out and she didn't pee) She doesn't care if I'm late with her morning chew, and often won't even whine if I'm late for dinner, but her bed-time routine she is pretty adamant about.
And frankly, I don't mind giving into her to do this routine because I think it's a wonderful exercise in rewarding good behavior. There are two kinds of treats that are given in some quantity each night. But each part of the treat is given in response to some pre-trained behavior she is supposed to do. The first half of the Beggin Strips goes to her after she properly shakes, for example. The second when she does the next trick. Etc., etc. So I appreciate this nightly exercise in reinforcing good behavior and I am trying really hard not to untrain this well behaved dog.
I admit I am not as good on our walks. She has been trained to stop at every corner and sit. And when I've walked her in the past with her owner, this is what we've done. This is a good exercise, and good reinforcement to sit and stop on command particularly in light of a potentially dangerous situation. I support the exercise in theory. But frankly, usually on our walks, I'm just not thinking about it, and she doesn't feel the need to remind me. Fortunately we often walk in circles and don't cross the street, or walk on long bike paths without such intersections. I hope my lack of discipline in these areas will simply affect her like that of a grandmother where the rules might be slightly different and that I don't undo all of her good training!
Alrighty, then, I think we're near the point where I'm supposed to neatly wrap this all into a ball and into some sort of conclusion. I began this post partly to express my amusement how in such a short period of time we've both been so successful in you getting to know me. That you recognize - what I'd like to think - is my ability to be responsible and not to take on a commitment that I am not prepared to do, so that if there were suddenly a canine in my life, it must be temporary. Talking about responsible pet ownership or choosing ownership responsibly, I made a connection to my choice not to be a parent. This led me to discuss the connections I do see between owner (or caretaker in this case) and dog and parent and child, and I wanted to tie the two together particularly with Babe_Chilla's post still fresh in my mind.
And, lastly, then I wanted to encourage and support all of the parents out there in the efforts you make and the hard work it takes to produce good, responsible, respectful and caring children. Particularly understanding that these children will become adults and the lessons you teach them painfully at 30-months will be more than amply rewarded by the wonderful human beings you create to go out and interact with the rest of the world. And as part of the rest of the world, I thank you.
Friday, August 17, 2012
The Virgins Were Dancing the Cabbage Patch
Yes, that's right. It's Friday night and another #wineparty. I swear to you, these posts almost write themselves. Just now I am waiting for an answer as to what the "Cabbage Patch" is, but I know that there are #wineparty virgins dancing it as I type. I mean what better post title could I find??
Lots of newbies tonight - which were nice. Some of them even believed me when I said we didn't bite hard, and one, well, um, asked if we would. ;)
You never know where the #wineparty will go... but it is always guaranteed to put a smile on your face no matter how bad your day or or how bad your week.
(Oh, and I am still taking #winepartyconfessions....)
G'night fair readers - you've been great this week!
Lots of newbies tonight - which were nice. Some of them even believed me when I said we didn't bite hard, and one, well, um, asked if we would. ;)
You never know where the #wineparty will go... but it is always guaranteed to put a smile on your face no matter how bad your day or or how bad your week.
(Oh, and I am still taking #winepartyconfessions....)
G'night fair readers - you've been great this week!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Amish Sex Parties
Hee hee... I love some of the search terms used to find me.
If you've just entered Amish Sex Parties to find me, I am so sorry to disappoint you.
But thanks for giving me a giggle! I needed one!
And look around and see if there's anything you might find of interest...
If you've just entered Amish Sex Parties to find me, I am so sorry to disappoint you.
But thanks for giving me a giggle! I needed one!
And look around and see if there's anything you might find of interest...
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Jenga
So, I have come with a new analogy for this balancing act I am doing - or trying to do - with being anonymous here.
I have decided it is like one big game of Jenga, and each time I tell someone I meet as BorgBlog my own true identity - or facts, even, that are greater and more significant or identifying than I have published here, I pull out a piece like a big Jenga game. And each time I tell one of my IRL friends that I'm doing an anonymous blog, or even more, show them the blog, I pull out another piece.
Early on, Jenga is easy. You can pull out lots of pieces without the whole thing crumbling down. But there comes a time - there always comes a time - when you pull out one piece too many and it all comes crumbling down. I'm not there yet. I've only pulled out four or five blocks, but with each block I know I am only getting closer to the point when it all may crumbling down.
The last two Friday nights I have missed #wineparty in favor of #happyhour. Half price drinks and appetizers at the local Applebees with a friend of mine.
And last night, I pulled a Jenga piece and told her about my blog. We went back to her place to hang out, and it was fun, I admit, to watch her peruse through the blog on her iPad and watch the expressions on her face, hear her laugh, and share something that has become an important part of my life with her. Even watching her as she made a sad expression on her face, pushing out her bottom lip, at the end of reading P.S. I love you (one of my favorites - an oldie but goodie). She had a hard time believing that all those entries on the right there were written by me. Once she started reading, of course, I'm sure she recognized my voice.
It was amusing as I'd say, "Read x" next. Or she'd browse on her own, and I'd say, "No, you have to read this one first..." She was amazed (I'd like to think) at my knowledge and quick reference to the various entries from my blog. Although there were still a few occasions when she'd ask me about some obscure reference I have no memory of writing, and I'd have to remind her I'd written 140 entries - I can't remember them all. (There's that inconsistency thing).
This block will not make the whole anonymity come crumbling down. She is one who has kept my secrets for years... But one day, I will pull one too many pieces.
But that's okay. When I do, I'll just take Jenny The Bloggess' path, and publish my own book! ;)
I have decided it is like one big game of Jenga, and each time I tell someone I meet as BorgBlog my own true identity - or facts, even, that are greater and more significant or identifying than I have published here, I pull out a piece like a big Jenga game. And each time I tell one of my IRL friends that I'm doing an anonymous blog, or even more, show them the blog, I pull out another piece.
Early on, Jenga is easy. You can pull out lots of pieces without the whole thing crumbling down. But there comes a time - there always comes a time - when you pull out one piece too many and it all comes crumbling down. I'm not there yet. I've only pulled out four or five blocks, but with each block I know I am only getting closer to the point when it all may crumbling down.
The last two Friday nights I have missed #wineparty in favor of #happyhour. Half price drinks and appetizers at the local Applebees with a friend of mine.
And last night, I pulled a Jenga piece and told her about my blog. We went back to her place to hang out, and it was fun, I admit, to watch her peruse through the blog on her iPad and watch the expressions on her face, hear her laugh, and share something that has become an important part of my life with her. Even watching her as she made a sad expression on her face, pushing out her bottom lip, at the end of reading P.S. I love you (one of my favorites - an oldie but goodie). She had a hard time believing that all those entries on the right there were written by me. Once she started reading, of course, I'm sure she recognized my voice.
It was amusing as I'd say, "Read x" next. Or she'd browse on her own, and I'd say, "No, you have to read this one first..." She was amazed (I'd like to think) at my knowledge and quick reference to the various entries from my blog. Although there were still a few occasions when she'd ask me about some obscure reference I have no memory of writing, and I'd have to remind her I'd written 140 entries - I can't remember them all. (There's that inconsistency thing).
This block will not make the whole anonymity come crumbling down. She is one who has kept my secrets for years... But one day, I will pull one too many pieces.
But that's okay. When I do, I'll just take Jenny The Bloggess' path, and publish my own book! ;)
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Dear Westboro Baptist Church
Now generally, I'm not going to spout political or religious stuff in my blog. That's not what I'm about. But the things that do tend to fall under those categories, that I might talk about, I talk about because they are fundamental to the human condition, or useful in my story.
When I'm on #wineparty on my iPhone, and I start to write that hashtag #w, frequently the first option Twitter offers me is #WestboroBaptistChurch. Oh, Twitter, how little you know me. Although today, when I post this entry on Twitter, I might finally use it.
I was in the shower today and thinking about the phrase "conditional love" and thinking how those two words don't go together. How that really is a paradox. Now, I wasn't thinking of the church at the time, but it was the beginning of that winding path that led me here by the end of my shower.
Yes, that's right boys and girls, it's time for another Shower Topic blog post.
Dear Westboro Baptist Church,
I don't think God would look very kindly at you for disrespecting his Creation. I think there's a spark of God in all of us, and when you hurt anyone, particularly deliberately, I think you hurt God, too. (Cue up Joan Osborne's "One of Us" music)
Jesus told his disciples to go out and preach the Gospel. Nowhere in the Gospel have I found Jesus telling anyone that you should hate anyone else. Nope. In the last few lessons at MY church the last few weeks, Jesus has wandered amongst the unclean and loved them. Frankly the only ones I've noticed Jesus be upset with or encourage shunning or avoiding are those who are self-righteous...
I don't care if you like me. I don't need you to love me. And while God may ask that of you, I don't. And I think He might understand that it is difficult to love everyone. Jesus talked about it a lot, in fact. It is not easy to love one another as I love you. But try.
But I don't expect it. I don't require it (not that my requirements should matter to you). I just ask you simply to allow me to live my life in peace. You don't need to bless my unions - my church and my God will do that. You don't need to come to my funeral - in fact, I kinda would prefer if you didn't, since you don't seem to act particularly respectful of the dead and those who mourn. But I may invite the folks at Texas A&M to come. They seem to understand what it means to honor the dead and respect the living.
If Jesus were here today, do you think he'd want anyone's website that was proclaiming his GOOD News to have the words "God Hates" in the domain name? No. God doesn't hate. God loves. And Jesus asked you to do the same, although he didn't expect it.
I think God and Jesus would accept the following compromise: You live your life and follow your beliefs, and do no harm to others, and I will do the same. Fair enough?
Sincerely,
A Child of God
When I'm on #wineparty on my iPhone, and I start to write that hashtag #w, frequently the first option Twitter offers me is #WestboroBaptistChurch. Oh, Twitter, how little you know me. Although today, when I post this entry on Twitter, I might finally use it.
I was in the shower today and thinking about the phrase "conditional love" and thinking how those two words don't go together. How that really is a paradox. Now, I wasn't thinking of the church at the time, but it was the beginning of that winding path that led me here by the end of my shower.
Yes, that's right boys and girls, it's time for another Shower Topic blog post.
Dear Westboro Baptist Church,
I don't think God would look very kindly at you for disrespecting his Creation. I think there's a spark of God in all of us, and when you hurt anyone, particularly deliberately, I think you hurt God, too. (Cue up Joan Osborne's "One of Us" music)
Jesus told his disciples to go out and preach the Gospel. Nowhere in the Gospel have I found Jesus telling anyone that you should hate anyone else. Nope. In the last few lessons at MY church the last few weeks, Jesus has wandered amongst the unclean and loved them. Frankly the only ones I've noticed Jesus be upset with or encourage shunning or avoiding are those who are self-righteous...
I don't care if you like me. I don't need you to love me. And while God may ask that of you, I don't. And I think He might understand that it is difficult to love everyone. Jesus talked about it a lot, in fact. It is not easy to love one another as I love you. But try.
But I don't expect it. I don't require it (not that my requirements should matter to you). I just ask you simply to allow me to live my life in peace. You don't need to bless my unions - my church and my God will do that. You don't need to come to my funeral - in fact, I kinda would prefer if you didn't, since you don't seem to act particularly respectful of the dead and those who mourn. But I may invite the folks at Texas A&M to come. They seem to understand what it means to honor the dead and respect the living.
If Jesus were here today, do you think he'd want anyone's website that was proclaiming his GOOD News to have the words "God Hates" in the domain name? No. God doesn't hate. God loves. And Jesus asked you to do the same, although he didn't expect it.
I think God and Jesus would accept the following compromise: You live your life and follow your beliefs, and do no harm to others, and I will do the same. Fair enough?
Sincerely,
A Child of God
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Rant, Amish Sex Swingers...and big boobs!
I'll warn you now, I'm gonna rant. Which isn't what I want to do. What I want to do is be more excited over how many people are finding my blog. Including one soul today who typed in "Amish Sex Swingers" into Google and found me. And on a Sunday! Tsk, tsk... ;)
I'd much rather write about how exciting I am about how popular my blog is becoming, and that people are actually searching for it by name. Someone in the last 24 hours or so actually searched for "borgblog resistance is futile."
Because, really, resistance is futile.
Now, I need more of you to hit the 'share this' on the Facebook and Twitter buttons over there on the right... Yeah, that's right, just up a little. But maybe not for this post. Because I thought I was gonna rant, and that might not be a good first impression for first time readers...
Oh, if you're a first time reader... please don't judge me on this alone. Usually I'm nicer.. less rantier.. some even say funny...
(True.. I haven't started ranting yet.. already, I'm turning my frown upside down...)
If I were to rant, and I might still do so, it would actually be the third post inspired by this particular person. We'll call him Tom because frankly I don't know any Toms, and so hopefully I won't actually insult anyone I know. If your name is Tom, this isn't about you. You're safe.
If you want to know the other two posts, they are "Buttons" and "Trigger People" (except now I can't find that post even though I SWEAR I wrote it....??).
And I know, really, that while I'd like to lay all of this raw irritated emotion at his feet and at his responsibility, I know that it is mine to deal with. So rather than respond to the e-mail I got about a half hour ago, and make the problem worse, I am reaching out to the wider social networking universe, instead. Because I can't piss you off because this isn't about you. (Today!)
Ironically, one of today's readings spoke directly to my problem. This is from the second letter of Paul to the Corinthians "Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated."
OMG. When that passage was read this morning, I immediately thought of Tom (there's even a note in my bulletin now, in case I forgot, with his name next to it). And this was before he'd done anything grievous today. (Don't worry, he eventually did. He always does. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when).
I want so badly to respond to his e-mail. I want so badly to spell out clearly how wrong he is and what an ass he is.
(Hee hee, just checked twitter. Another confession coming in.. "I like girls with big boobs!" See you guys rock .. hard to rant when people are sharing important things like that with you.. and wanting to find Amish sex swingers...)
I know that I have a choice with Tom. It's not one that makes me feel good about myself, frankly. I can be right, show him and tell him I'm right and drive him right out of our church. And sadly, I am ashamed to admit, there are several members of the church who would pat me on the back in appreciation for doing that. And I think I'm close to having accomplished that, whether intentional or not. After I've snapped at him, he's gotten pretty quick at leaving.
I am ashamed to admit that there is a part of me that would like to see that happen. That thinks things would be easier without him - heck KNOWS that things would be easier without him. But then I think of two things.
First, what would it be like to not feel welcome in your church? Is that something I want to make him feel? On the one hand, I've already admitted (here, and to myself) that his presence makes me not want to go on Sundays, but do I *really* want to be the reason someone else feels that they can't go to their house of worship? No.
The second is a post a friend wrote recently about being bullied that broke my heart having read it. And I can't help but wonder in this situation, if I'm not being a bully?
Man, that sucks... Can we go back to talking about big boobs and Amish Sex Swingers, please?
I wrote in my post "History in the Making" that we are quick to label ourselves the hero or the victims in our stories when we tell them. But really, in this story, if I made him leave, would I really be a hero? No. And while he irritates the bejesus out of me, am I really a victim? (I wanna be able to answer, "yes", but I know the answer is) No.
Someone wrote on Twitter (it happens probably every thirty seconds or so, even if you're not following the person who tweeted - and like that tree that falls in the forest if no-one is around to hear, it still falls...) being an adult sucks.
Yes. Sometimes it does. Resistance is futile. Big boobs are nice. And, sorry, there are no Amish Sex Swingers here, but there is some funny stuff. And some not so funny stuff.
I'd much rather write about how exciting I am about how popular my blog is becoming, and that people are actually searching for it by name. Someone in the last 24 hours or so actually searched for "borgblog resistance is futile."
Because, really, resistance is futile.
Now, I need more of you to hit the 'share this' on the Facebook and Twitter buttons over there on the right... Yeah, that's right, just up a little. But maybe not for this post. Because I thought I was gonna rant, and that might not be a good first impression for first time readers...
Oh, if you're a first time reader... please don't judge me on this alone. Usually I'm nicer.. less rantier.. some even say funny...
(True.. I haven't started ranting yet.. already, I'm turning my frown upside down...)
If I were to rant, and I might still do so, it would actually be the third post inspired by this particular person. We'll call him Tom because frankly I don't know any Toms, and so hopefully I won't actually insult anyone I know. If your name is Tom, this isn't about you. You're safe.
If you want to know the other two posts, they are "Buttons" and "Trigger People" (except now I can't find that post even though I SWEAR I wrote it....??).
And I know, really, that while I'd like to lay all of this raw irritated emotion at his feet and at his responsibility, I know that it is mine to deal with. So rather than respond to the e-mail I got about a half hour ago, and make the problem worse, I am reaching out to the wider social networking universe, instead. Because I can't piss you off because this isn't about you. (Today!)
Ironically, one of today's readings spoke directly to my problem. This is from the second letter of Paul to the Corinthians "Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated."
OMG. When that passage was read this morning, I immediately thought of Tom (there's even a note in my bulletin now, in case I forgot, with his name next to it). And this was before he'd done anything grievous today. (Don't worry, he eventually did. He always does. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when).
I want so badly to respond to his e-mail. I want so badly to spell out clearly how wrong he is and what an ass he is.
(Hee hee, just checked twitter. Another confession coming in.. "I like girls with big boobs!" See you guys rock .. hard to rant when people are sharing important things like that with you.. and wanting to find Amish sex swingers...)
I know that I have a choice with Tom. It's not one that makes me feel good about myself, frankly. I can be right, show him and tell him I'm right and drive him right out of our church. And sadly, I am ashamed to admit, there are several members of the church who would pat me on the back in appreciation for doing that. And I think I'm close to having accomplished that, whether intentional or not. After I've snapped at him, he's gotten pretty quick at leaving.
I am ashamed to admit that there is a part of me that would like to see that happen. That thinks things would be easier without him - heck KNOWS that things would be easier without him. But then I think of two things.
First, what would it be like to not feel welcome in your church? Is that something I want to make him feel? On the one hand, I've already admitted (here, and to myself) that his presence makes me not want to go on Sundays, but do I *really* want to be the reason someone else feels that they can't go to their house of worship? No.
The second is a post a friend wrote recently about being bullied that broke my heart having read it. And I can't help but wonder in this situation, if I'm not being a bully?
Man, that sucks... Can we go back to talking about big boobs and Amish Sex Swingers, please?
I wrote in my post "History in the Making" that we are quick to label ourselves the hero or the victims in our stories when we tell them. But really, in this story, if I made him leave, would I really be a hero? No. And while he irritates the bejesus out of me, am I really a victim? (I wanna be able to answer, "yes", but I know the answer is) No.
Someone wrote on Twitter (it happens probably every thirty seconds or so, even if you're not following the person who tweeted - and like that tree that falls in the forest if no-one is around to hear, it still falls...) being an adult sucks.
Yes. Sometimes it does. Resistance is futile. Big boobs are nice. And, sorry, there are no Amish Sex Swingers here, but there is some funny stuff. And some not so funny stuff.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Part 3! Twitter Jail!!
Well, then. I guess I was busy tonight taking confessions and all, because I got placed in Twitter Jail!! I think of it as a badge of honor, but I'm a Twitter Jail virgin... Many of my friends have said they've never been in it...
I hope they'll treat me gentle... and not bite too hard! ;)
.PNG)
BTW, @inelegant_life .. all I was going to tweet to you was "Hee hee ;)"
I hope they'll treat me gentle... and not bite too hard! ;)
.PNG)
BTW, @inelegant_life .. all I was going to tweet to you was "Hee hee ;)"
#crankypants and #wineparty Part Deux
Okay, you must read part 1 before you get here. You must understand the #crankyparts part of the evening before you can appreciate the #wineparty confessions part (okay, that's a lie, but, it'll help provide some perspective!)
Basically, a friend was experiecing a douchebag husband, and so I tried to entice her to join us on #wineparty. Several mutual friends saw my attempt, and pleaded, too, that she needed to join us. It was an innocent start. I swear.
She mentioned that she was intimidated by #wineparty - that it moved too fast to keep up. I told her to come and talk with us. I promised that we didn't bite.. Well, we didn't bite HARD. ;)
It went downhill from there...
One person replied that it was a darn shame that we didn't bite hard, at which point I offered to oblige.
You can see how this snowballed even in the triple-digit heat.
We had all sorts of confessions in the night. I even tried to get our hostess' (Kit @blogdangerously - if you don't read her blog you shoud!) confession, but she went to Twitter jail even without confessing first.
Special robes were involved, and I let folks know that I was willing to take confessions in privately by DM
We had confessions about enjoying nipples... (I tried to widen my survey about whether Married Women Like Breasts...but the most I got was that they enjoyed the female form in various manners...
Well, except one girl, but I already knew about her... ;)
It even sorta took a life of its own. Without me.
We had porn confessions. Confessions of a desire to murder one's family. (We hope that didn't come true, because then we'd all become accessories before the fact and that wouldn't be good...) Addiction to attention (had to add that, or else that person might think I wasn't paying attention, and we couldn't have that...). It was something!
I'll continue to take confessions throughout the week. You can tweet me @theborgblog, or e-mail me at theborgblog@gmail.com
I have special robes. It's all official-like. Honest. ;)
Basically, a friend was experiecing a douchebag husband, and so I tried to entice her to join us on #wineparty. Several mutual friends saw my attempt, and pleaded, too, that she needed to join us. It was an innocent start. I swear.
She mentioned that she was intimidated by #wineparty - that it moved too fast to keep up. I told her to come and talk with us. I promised that we didn't bite.. Well, we didn't bite HARD. ;)
It went downhill from there...
One person replied that it was a darn shame that we didn't bite hard, at which point I offered to oblige.
You can see how this snowballed even in the triple-digit heat.
We had all sorts of confessions in the night. I even tried to get our hostess' (Kit @blogdangerously - if you don't read her blog you shoud!) confession, but she went to Twitter jail even without confessing first.
Special robes were involved, and I let folks know that I was willing to take confessions in privately by DM
We had confessions about enjoying nipples... (I tried to widen my survey about whether Married Women Like Breasts...but the most I got was that they enjoyed the female form in various manners...
Well, except one girl, but I already knew about her... ;)
It even sorta took a life of its own. Without me.
We had porn confessions. Confessions of a desire to murder one's family. (We hope that didn't come true, because then we'd all become accessories before the fact and that wouldn't be good...) Addiction to attention (had to add that, or else that person might think I wasn't paying attention, and we couldn't have that...). It was something!
I'll continue to take confessions throughout the week. You can tweet me @theborgblog, or e-mail me at theborgblog@gmail.com
I have special robes. It's all official-like. Honest. ;)
#crankypants and #wineparty confessions...
For those of you don't already know, every Friday at 9 PM Eastern on Twitter, there is a #wineparty. Just go to hashtag wineparty to join us. Check out my label there on the right for #wineparty to read more about it. Clearly it has become a recurring theme / subject for me.
Well, I started off the evening as Ms #crankypants before #wineparty began. If you doubt me, you can ask @inelegant_life, and I'm sure she'll fill you in on the details. (Except, I'm about to fill you in on the details, she can confirm them...).
Just before #wineparty started, I reached this point where EVERYTHING practically was getting on my nerves. I had gone grocery shopping earlier (a whole other post about eating healthy while being poor should be written at some point) and decided to get out of my comfort zone and buy some chicken to cook. I wanted a garlic marinade, but the only one I found had lemon and I didn't want that. So I bought some barbecue sauce and planned on having a relatively decent dinner (for me) tonight.
Took a nap. Was a bit too cranky to cook at first. But eventually convinced myself it was the way to go. So, I start looking up recipes - as it's been years since I made chicken myself, and wanted to see my options. Everything I find, practically, suggests breading. Well, no breading, so tough.
Decide I know enough about chicken to wing it (ha!) on my own (they weren't wings, but....) and start to pull out the bag to put the marinade and then chicken in.. Got the bag.. got the chicken.. SHIT, where's the marinade? Yep, check my receipt, it was on there. Go check the other bags (with non-perishibles - toothpaste). Nope. Go back out to the car. Check under seats. Nope.
And NOW I have bed-head. So I don't want to go back out.
NOT end of world. But beginning of crankiness.
Then my neighbor out back has somebody stop by (thank god somewhat briefly) who decides to play their car radio loud enough so that everyone can hear it with their hearing aids turned down (there's a reason he put a sign above his garage that says "Asshole's Garage".. and apparently so are his friends!). In the end, it wasn't a loud party, but I was cranky at that.
And I'm sure there was something else that rubbed me the wrong way. NOT a great start to #wineparty - particularly two weeks in a row.
Fortunately, my twitter friends did NOT let me down.
First there was a nip-"slip" by InsolentWanton (thank you, dear!) and it went uphill from there pretty quickly.
Now I've gotten better at mastering #wineparty with HootSuite, so I had my "fav-friends" list on the left column, mentions in the middle, and #wineparty on the third column.
One of my friends on the left mentioned how her husband was a douchebag. I proposed the appropriate solution, come visit us at #wineparty.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how that SIMPLE exchange became the basis for #wineparty confessions, but I know that biting and nibbling were involved.
And with that, this post is long enough, and I'll start another one for #wineparty confessions.. ;)
Well, I started off the evening as Ms #crankypants before #wineparty began. If you doubt me, you can ask @inelegant_life, and I'm sure she'll fill you in on the details. (Except, I'm about to fill you in on the details, she can confirm them...).
Just before #wineparty started, I reached this point where EVERYTHING practically was getting on my nerves. I had gone grocery shopping earlier (a whole other post about eating healthy while being poor should be written at some point) and decided to get out of my comfort zone and buy some chicken to cook. I wanted a garlic marinade, but the only one I found had lemon and I didn't want that. So I bought some barbecue sauce and planned on having a relatively decent dinner (for me) tonight.
Took a nap. Was a bit too cranky to cook at first. But eventually convinced myself it was the way to go. So, I start looking up recipes - as it's been years since I made chicken myself, and wanted to see my options. Everything I find, practically, suggests breading. Well, no breading, so tough.
Decide I know enough about chicken to wing it (ha!) on my own (they weren't wings, but....) and start to pull out the bag to put the marinade and then chicken in.. Got the bag.. got the chicken.. SHIT, where's the marinade? Yep, check my receipt, it was on there. Go check the other bags (with non-perishibles - toothpaste). Nope. Go back out to the car. Check under seats. Nope.
And NOW I have bed-head. So I don't want to go back out.
NOT end of world. But beginning of crankiness.
Then my neighbor out back has somebody stop by (thank god somewhat briefly) who decides to play their car radio loud enough so that everyone can hear it with their hearing aids turned down (there's a reason he put a sign above his garage that says "Asshole's Garage".. and apparently so are his friends!). In the end, it wasn't a loud party, but I was cranky at that.
And I'm sure there was something else that rubbed me the wrong way. NOT a great start to #wineparty - particularly two weeks in a row.
Fortunately, my twitter friends did NOT let me down.
First there was a nip-"slip" by InsolentWanton (thank you, dear!) and it went uphill from there pretty quickly.
Now I've gotten better at mastering #wineparty with HootSuite, so I had my "fav-friends" list on the left column, mentions in the middle, and #wineparty on the third column.
One of my friends on the left mentioned how her husband was a douchebag. I proposed the appropriate solution, come visit us at #wineparty.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how that SIMPLE exchange became the basis for #wineparty confessions, but I know that biting and nibbling were involved.
And with that, this post is long enough, and I'll start another one for #wineparty confessions.. ;)
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Sour Grapes
So, you may have heard on Twitter that I was involved in a big storm last night. From the news, I know I'm not alone, and that it has continued East, hitting the mid-Atlantic, in particular the DC area this morning.
First, while I am about to complain / whine a little here, I know, in the bigger picture, things could have been much worse, and frankly, I am grateful that they weren't. I realize, in the bigger picture of things, what happened at my house (big, huge ass neighbor tree plowing through front fence, and filling up tiny front yard, but missing the house) not really a big deal, not unusual, not "special", not earth-shattering, not end of world, not any of those things that the following words might suggest that I feel like it was.
I was at my contract site when the lights first started to flicker, and after the power went out, we all watched out the floor to ceiling windows as the storm came in somewhat quickly.
People were worried on their phones calling home making sure their loved ones were okay. I checked on what few friends I have in the area, too, and we did the best we could to get in information with sporadic cell network coverage. One poor woman felt silly when she was trying to get the radar to come up on her phone, and declared, "I have WiFi on! I don't know why it isn't loading?" "Um, dear," I politely informed her, "the wireless network kinda needs power to be useful." "Oh... yeah...".
Eventually the storm died down enough where folks felt it was safe to travel, and non-essential folks were slowly sent home. The power never came on before I left. It was the end of the month, though, and certain sales people were anxious for the power to return to finish their sales and make sure they shipped out of the warehouse. I imagine it didn't happen.
There came a point, though, where it seemed silly for me to still be hanging around. I had nothing to contribute. But, here I, at least, was amongst people, and the thought of going home and sitting alone in my house in the dark with my cell phone battery dying didn't seem like much fun either.
Plus, I was afraid what the neighboring tree might have done.
This neighboring tree reminds me a lot of the tree in Poltergeist. (As a side note, go back and watch that as an adult - as a kid, I totally missed the parents toking on weed!). Early on I learned not to park on the side of the street closest to the tree in front of my house because any small wind or storm was always a good excuse for it to drop a branch or two. I liked my car the way it was.
And, sure enough, when I came home, the tree had CLEARLY dropped one of its big branches down in front of my house, taking out my front gate, and landing perilously close to the front porch. Nothing, thank goodness, hit the house.
So, there I was about to go into this dark powerless house alone while winds and rain were still stirring a bit, and just wait for the rest of the tree to come down into the house?
Um, no..
I didn't like the plan much before the tree was a player in the party, I certainly had no desire to stick around then. So I packed a small bag, got in my car, and headed West towards the sunshine, intent on staying with a friend who lived thirty minutes west.
An hour or two later, I received the text message and the calls from town saying the power was finally back on, and since when I arrived at my friend's home, I discovered the sleeping quarters were going to be more cramped than I had hoped, I quickly took off for home.
I detoured around and checked out other friends' homes and the destruction in their yards, too. Again, not anxious to face, again, the tree.
And as I'm driving up the block to my home, I am looking around at my neighbors homes and yards. And they are ALL clean. The only destruction whatsoever on or to the block was at my home. I gotta admit, that kinda annoyed me, too, and so at #wineparty last night, during my brief visit, I often had the hastag #crankypants attached.
But, I have power, my own bed, no holes in the roof, so I am, for the most part, happy. Just a little cranky... too.
This morning I took my sweet time heading out to the front to try and figure out what to do. I had no burning desire to go attack it - and in the end, that turned out to be a good thing. Sometimes procrastination is good!
I looked at it. Took a few more pictures. Sent a few more messages to friends saying, "I have no idea even where to begin." Got out what few tools I had. Picked up a few sticks and started to pile them. Scratched my head. Got hotter and hotter because the heat wave is back. Hacked up another plant that had fallen over. And in the middle of that, my landlord drives up.
I was just thinking of him.. wondering if he had a chainsaw, if he'd come by. I had sent him picture by text last night. But I am one of fifty properties he owns, and one of twelve, apparently that were damaged. He told me to leave it be, and I didn't need to be told twice. He took pictures for insurance, and then told me how high a deductible he had.
I comment, positively, well, at least it didn't hit the house. To which he replies, "Would have been better if it did and burned the whole house down to the ground..."
I'm thinking, and I actually say out loud, "Um, maybe for you....? But not so much for me.."
And then he drove off and I putzed with the wild plant for a little longer and thought about what he said.
What would I do if the house had burned down? Would I even stay in this small town, or take it as a sign that it was time to start over? Where would I start over? What would I do?
I spend time in life, and even here on the blog a little, justifying why I live in a small town and that I like it. But I admit I began to wonder if my hooplah over living here was some sort of Aesopian "sour grapes" justification for being here.
I don't know, to be honest. I know that we need to appreciate what we have, and that I do. Tree in my front yard and all. Maybe this isn't the best place for me, and maybe it is. I don't know. But it is where I am at, and until the tree takes the house out and makes the landlord happy (?), I'll stick around a bit longer and do my best to enjoy it.
First, while I am about to complain / whine a little here, I know, in the bigger picture, things could have been much worse, and frankly, I am grateful that they weren't. I realize, in the bigger picture of things, what happened at my house (big, huge ass neighbor tree plowing through front fence, and filling up tiny front yard, but missing the house) not really a big deal, not unusual, not "special", not earth-shattering, not end of world, not any of those things that the following words might suggest that I feel like it was.
I was at my contract site when the lights first started to flicker, and after the power went out, we all watched out the floor to ceiling windows as the storm came in somewhat quickly.
People were worried on their phones calling home making sure their loved ones were okay. I checked on what few friends I have in the area, too, and we did the best we could to get in information with sporadic cell network coverage. One poor woman felt silly when she was trying to get the radar to come up on her phone, and declared, "I have WiFi on! I don't know why it isn't loading?" "Um, dear," I politely informed her, "the wireless network kinda needs power to be useful." "Oh... yeah...".
Eventually the storm died down enough where folks felt it was safe to travel, and non-essential folks were slowly sent home. The power never came on before I left. It was the end of the month, though, and certain sales people were anxious for the power to return to finish their sales and make sure they shipped out of the warehouse. I imagine it didn't happen.
There came a point, though, where it seemed silly for me to still be hanging around. I had nothing to contribute. But, here I, at least, was amongst people, and the thought of going home and sitting alone in my house in the dark with my cell phone battery dying didn't seem like much fun either.
Plus, I was afraid what the neighboring tree might have done.
This neighboring tree reminds me a lot of the tree in Poltergeist. (As a side note, go back and watch that as an adult - as a kid, I totally missed the parents toking on weed!). Early on I learned not to park on the side of the street closest to the tree in front of my house because any small wind or storm was always a good excuse for it to drop a branch or two. I liked my car the way it was.
And, sure enough, when I came home, the tree had CLEARLY dropped one of its big branches down in front of my house, taking out my front gate, and landing perilously close to the front porch. Nothing, thank goodness, hit the house.
So, there I was about to go into this dark powerless house alone while winds and rain were still stirring a bit, and just wait for the rest of the tree to come down into the house?
Um, no..
I didn't like the plan much before the tree was a player in the party, I certainly had no desire to stick around then. So I packed a small bag, got in my car, and headed West towards the sunshine, intent on staying with a friend who lived thirty minutes west.
An hour or two later, I received the text message and the calls from town saying the power was finally back on, and since when I arrived at my friend's home, I discovered the sleeping quarters were going to be more cramped than I had hoped, I quickly took off for home.
I detoured around and checked out other friends' homes and the destruction in their yards, too. Again, not anxious to face, again, the tree.
And as I'm driving up the block to my home, I am looking around at my neighbors homes and yards. And they are ALL clean. The only destruction whatsoever on or to the block was at my home. I gotta admit, that kinda annoyed me, too, and so at #wineparty last night, during my brief visit, I often had the hastag #crankypants attached.
But, I have power, my own bed, no holes in the roof, so I am, for the most part, happy. Just a little cranky... too.
This morning I took my sweet time heading out to the front to try and figure out what to do. I had no burning desire to go attack it - and in the end, that turned out to be a good thing. Sometimes procrastination is good!
I looked at it. Took a few more pictures. Sent a few more messages to friends saying, "I have no idea even where to begin." Got out what few tools I had. Picked up a few sticks and started to pile them. Scratched my head. Got hotter and hotter because the heat wave is back. Hacked up another plant that had fallen over. And in the middle of that, my landlord drives up.
I was just thinking of him.. wondering if he had a chainsaw, if he'd come by. I had sent him picture by text last night. But I am one of fifty properties he owns, and one of twelve, apparently that were damaged. He told me to leave it be, and I didn't need to be told twice. He took pictures for insurance, and then told me how high a deductible he had.
I comment, positively, well, at least it didn't hit the house. To which he replies, "Would have been better if it did and burned the whole house down to the ground..."
I'm thinking, and I actually say out loud, "Um, maybe for you....? But not so much for me.."
And then he drove off and I putzed with the wild plant for a little longer and thought about what he said.
What would I do if the house had burned down? Would I even stay in this small town, or take it as a sign that it was time to start over? Where would I start over? What would I do?
I spend time in life, and even here on the blog a little, justifying why I live in a small town and that I like it. But I admit I began to wonder if my hooplah over living here was some sort of Aesopian "sour grapes" justification for being here.
I don't know, to be honest. I know that we need to appreciate what we have, and that I do. Tree in my front yard and all. Maybe this isn't the best place for me, and maybe it is. I don't know. But it is where I am at, and until the tree takes the house out and makes the landlord happy (?), I'll stick around a bit longer and do my best to enjoy it.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Wine Party
Forgive me, I've just been laughing a little too hard just a moment ago...
#wineparty on Twitter is just winding down, and despite a bumpy start, I had a great time. It almost felt like a real party - I couldn't get engaged in any of the groups talking due to technological issues, so I stood in the corner (whined just a little) and before I knew it, my friends noticed me and came over to the corner to talk with me.
Now, we didn't come up with anything so creative as Amish Swingers this time (I probably should make a label for Amish Swingers, too..), but we did have a lot of fun. Particularly as I kept adding random strangers with one-off names to our party.
I went on Twitter-crack this evening, folks. Seriously. My head is still spinning on this. I came home determined to finally find a different app that would make following #wineparty easier. See, it's a hashtag, and if you just watch that window, you miss people who might respond to you and forget the hashtag, so you kinda gotta circle back to your Mentions page, too (for those of you lost on FB, let's face it, you don't follow me anyway - at the moment all my followers are Tweeps). I was doing this on the iPhone for the first two wine parties.
But I thought there had to be an easier way. And I was told there was.
So tonight, when I got home, I made it my mission - before #wineparty began to figure out these other apps. Two general ones were recommended: HootSuite and Tweetdeck. I did a quick google for HS vs. TD (I've learned to be cool and abbreviate - only way you can talk about them in 140 characters or less!) and what brief few things I read, it seemed like HS - which was web based and not desktop dependent - might be the better way to go for the various things I might in the future use it for.
So I got on it, and I rolled. And immediately a new tweep recommended TD, and we chatted for a few, and so she convinced me to open another tab and try it out. And next week, I may use it. But it felt a lot like Twitter itself, and so HS had some new features that I'd just been figuring out how to use to maximize my Twitter viewing. So, I decided to try the slick HS this evening.
Right before #wineparty, of course, I was online watching the Bloggess' book party. Lots of fun there, and I've made lots of new tweeps from that interaction, but the chat function was not working properly for me for 3/4ths of the time, so by the time I hit #wineparty, I was already technologically frustrated.
Now Twitter - generally - has a way so that you can see the tweet to which the new tweet was replying. So you can remember where you were at or figure out how the person got there. It's quite helpful, particularly on a "party line" conversation like #wineparty.
But that screen, highlighting all the hashtag posts didn't have that functionality. My patience was already shot, so I almost gave up. I waved "Hi" at a few people I knew, and eventually others joined me in the corner, and we had a good time.
I missed a lot. And it's a shame, but we still had fun. I do feel bad for @kristin_g and @gcb who got pulled in unwillingly and unknowningly because HootSuite doesn't automatically pull everyone back in for the reply, and my typing left a little to be desired. Ooops! But it made me laugh!
Love you tweeps! Thanks for a great evening!!
#wineparty on Twitter is just winding down, and despite a bumpy start, I had a great time. It almost felt like a real party - I couldn't get engaged in any of the groups talking due to technological issues, so I stood in the corner (whined just a little) and before I knew it, my friends noticed me and came over to the corner to talk with me.
Now, we didn't come up with anything so creative as Amish Swingers this time (I probably should make a label for Amish Swingers, too..), but we did have a lot of fun. Particularly as I kept adding random strangers with one-off names to our party.
I went on Twitter-crack this evening, folks. Seriously. My head is still spinning on this. I came home determined to finally find a different app that would make following #wineparty easier. See, it's a hashtag, and if you just watch that window, you miss people who might respond to you and forget the hashtag, so you kinda gotta circle back to your Mentions page, too (for those of you lost on FB, let's face it, you don't follow me anyway - at the moment all my followers are Tweeps). I was doing this on the iPhone for the first two wine parties.
But I thought there had to be an easier way. And I was told there was.
So tonight, when I got home, I made it my mission - before #wineparty began to figure out these other apps. Two general ones were recommended: HootSuite and Tweetdeck. I did a quick google for HS vs. TD (I've learned to be cool and abbreviate - only way you can talk about them in 140 characters or less!) and what brief few things I read, it seemed like HS - which was web based and not desktop dependent - might be the better way to go for the various things I might in the future use it for.
So I got on it, and I rolled. And immediately a new tweep recommended TD, and we chatted for a few, and so she convinced me to open another tab and try it out. And next week, I may use it. But it felt a lot like Twitter itself, and so HS had some new features that I'd just been figuring out how to use to maximize my Twitter viewing. So, I decided to try the slick HS this evening.
Right before #wineparty, of course, I was online watching the Bloggess' book party. Lots of fun there, and I've made lots of new tweeps from that interaction, but the chat function was not working properly for me for 3/4ths of the time, so by the time I hit #wineparty, I was already technologically frustrated.
Now Twitter - generally - has a way so that you can see the tweet to which the new tweet was replying. So you can remember where you were at or figure out how the person got there. It's quite helpful, particularly on a "party line" conversation like #wineparty.
But that screen, highlighting all the hashtag posts didn't have that functionality. My patience was already shot, so I almost gave up. I waved "Hi" at a few people I knew, and eventually others joined me in the corner, and we had a good time.
I missed a lot. And it's a shame, but we still had fun. I do feel bad for @kristin_g and @gcb who got pulled in unwillingly and unknowningly because HootSuite doesn't automatically pull everyone back in for the reply, and my typing left a little to be desired. Ooops! But it made me laugh!
Love you tweeps! Thanks for a great evening!!
Friday, June 1, 2012
Twitter-verse
My current best friend (because, honestly, I have about 10 people during my life-time who have held this title, and it's kind of a lifetime achievement award, so my best friend from 1st grade still is referred to as my best friend, but she isn't who I am referring to here and now!) has had the nerve to go and get herself a full time job (bitch!). She lives a bit of a distance from me, so we're electronic best friends at this point (although we have known each other in real life, so it's not AS creepy as it might seem..). Her more flexible schedule made her a more, um, reliable, um, responsive sounding board.
But now that she's got this full time job AND (again, the nerve!) a social life! (bitch!) I find myself feeling a little neglected and lonely.
One of the reasons I stated early on for creating this blog was to be a receptacle for all the crazy things that go through my head that I have to share with someone. Because often sharing with just ONE someone becomes a bit too overwhelming.
I admit, I'm a little scared to look in my sent folder at the twenty e-mails I sent to her yesterday (still unresponded to mostly, because, um, she was working!) because I know at least ONE of them expounded upon the fact that I discovered yesterday that I prefer hair wax to hair gel.
Really important stuff. I am sure once she reads that, she'll get back to me right away, right? No, more likely, she'll probably wonder why I am wasting her limited time with such nonsense.
Particulalry when there's Twitter.
I admit it. Twitter is growing on me. I do now check it more than once a day when at first, of course, I could go days or weeks without checking it. After all, the only reason I got on Twitter was to get Jenny The Bloggess' attention. And I did. She's my very first follower. Now I have 28 followers, and have done 302 tweets.
I know over half of the followers came in the past week, and primarily from #wineparty Kit of Blogging Dangerously's weekly Twitter party.
Facebook users think of themselves as being more high-brow than twitter. I know. I felt that way, myself. And I'm not sure whether we are or are not, and of course there are PLENTY of cross-overs between FB and Twitter, so it's not like there are two distinct camps. But there is this notion on FB that if you do start to brain fart dump in it (hair wax versus hair gel) that you'll soon get people hiding your news from their newsfeeds. Or at least gloss over them, as I do.
Twitter requires cleverness. Or recognizing cleverness and retweeting it. The goal of Twitter is not to be "friends" with everyone you meet or tweet or whatever. You don't have to worry about someone's standards on Twitter that they'll begin to gloss over you. They're not looking for baby news, or how your life is going, or what your children did, or how your career is skyrocketing. They're not looking for lengthy in depth political discussions (although many of us on FB aren't either, but sometimes find ourselves caught in the quicksand morass of them). Twitter is simple.
I'm falling fot Twitter. And maybe, instead of innundating my hard working (bitch) best friend's e-mail box with many messages of no value I should just bombard Twitter with the update of the important sutff like hair wax versus gel. Because I know you're interested.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
But now that she's got this full time job AND (again, the nerve!) a social life! (bitch!) I find myself feeling a little neglected and lonely.
One of the reasons I stated early on for creating this blog was to be a receptacle for all the crazy things that go through my head that I have to share with someone. Because often sharing with just ONE someone becomes a bit too overwhelming.
I admit, I'm a little scared to look in my sent folder at the twenty e-mails I sent to her yesterday (still unresponded to mostly, because, um, she was working!) because I know at least ONE of them expounded upon the fact that I discovered yesterday that I prefer hair wax to hair gel.
Really important stuff. I am sure once she reads that, she'll get back to me right away, right? No, more likely, she'll probably wonder why I am wasting her limited time with such nonsense.
Particulalry when there's Twitter.
I admit it. Twitter is growing on me. I do now check it more than once a day when at first, of course, I could go days or weeks without checking it. After all, the only reason I got on Twitter was to get Jenny The Bloggess' attention. And I did. She's my very first follower. Now I have 28 followers, and have done 302 tweets.
I know over half of the followers came in the past week, and primarily from #wineparty Kit of Blogging Dangerously's weekly Twitter party.
Facebook users think of themselves as being more high-brow than twitter. I know. I felt that way, myself. And I'm not sure whether we are or are not, and of course there are PLENTY of cross-overs between FB and Twitter, so it's not like there are two distinct camps. But there is this notion on FB that if you do start to brain fart dump in it (hair wax versus hair gel) that you'll soon get people hiding your news from their newsfeeds. Or at least gloss over them, as I do.
Twitter requires cleverness. Or recognizing cleverness and retweeting it. The goal of Twitter is not to be "friends" with everyone you meet or tweet or whatever. You don't have to worry about someone's standards on Twitter that they'll begin to gloss over you. They're not looking for baby news, or how your life is going, or what your children did, or how your career is skyrocketing. They're not looking for lengthy in depth political discussions (although many of us on FB aren't either, but sometimes find ourselves caught in the quicksand morass of them). Twitter is simple.
I'm falling fot Twitter. And maybe, instead of innundating my hard working (bitch) best friend's e-mail box with many messages of no value I should just bombard Twitter with the update of the important sutff like hair wax versus gel. Because I know you're interested.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)