Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Sorry I haven't written in a while

Just a little quickie here (and don't be so damn dirty-minded, people, I'm talking about writing) to apologize for not writing in a while. It's been so long since I posted here that I forgot my Blogger password, and had to reset it to get back in. Once I did, I thought I would look at my stats. Yesterday I actually posted a comment on the Bloggess' blog  (haven't done that in a while either), and I noticed I got some hits from that, and felt ashamed that my most recent post was from May. So I thought I would write up a little postie. That and I'm bored again at work and am actively trying to get myself laid off/fired so I can be one of the 47 irresponsible percent that Mitt Romney doesn't give a shit about because we're collecting our "entitlements" from the govmint.

So why the hell haven't I been writing in this here blog? Well, for one thing, when the Bloggess was in Austin for her booksigning in April, she told me to quit writing about bacon, so I've been at a loss as to what else to write about, because I live to write about bacon, damnit. But the Bloggess is my hero (I'd write heroine, but every time I read that word I think heroin, and if I write it it sounds to me like I have a drug problem and/or that I'm addicted to the Bloggess, which could be the same thing, or similar or whatever, but I'm rambling now so I should just stopit), and I really value her opinion so I decided to quit writing about bacon so that meant I had to stop writing.

Well, OK, that's not entirely the truth. Even though I met the Bloggess at the booksigning, it was for like 5 seconds while a nice Bookpeople employee took our picture on my iPhone, and she (the Bloggess, not the nice Bookpeople employee) didn't say anything about bacon writing, nor did I. She was very nice and sweet, though, and was trying very hard not to look too unnerved when I placed my hand on her shoulder while our picture was being taken.

However, prior to having my picture taken with the Bloggess, and after her bookreading when she took audience questions, she did tell us en masse in response to a newbie blogger's request for blogging advice to stop writing about bacon, because it's been done, and she was talking about writing about bacon, not about bacon itself. (Yes, I know that's a grammatically incorrect run-on sentence - I'm a trained journalist, so I know what I'm doing, people). In any case, I felt quite sure that she was talking to me, since I had been writing about bacon very prolifically. As a matter of fact I swear she was looking right at me when she told us not to write about bacon. So in essence she did tell me to stop writing about bacon.

But really, really, that's not why I quit writing in my blog. Or, not exactly why. The truth is that, while I really enjoy writing humorously, or at least attempting to write humorously, it was taking a lot out of me to do so. And I write too damn much any way (see I was attempting to write a quickie here, and I've already written five fucking paragraphs, which isn't a quickie, it's a hurry-up-and-come-damn-it-before-I-fall-asleep-this-is-such-a-long-bad-lay kinda thing). And I had other things to do, like watch paint dry and pick cat lint out of my navel, and writing in my blog was taking entirely too much time and energy from that sort of thing.

So I quit writing. I kept intending to come back, but I was afraid that all I had to say was bacon-related and I just didn't have the energy to come up with new topics, so I just didn't come here. I didn't even go look at my stats (obviously). However, I might be ready to give it a go again, but maybe this time I'll just write very short posts, although this was supposed to be a short post, and I screwed that up. I obviously suck at short-blog-post writing. I also suck at not-writing-about-bacon, since I now realize that most of this post is about bacon. Well holy-shit-on-a-shizzle - can't I do anything right? I may have to rethink this whole blogging thing, unless I can figure out a way to make bacon writing a successful, entertaining, money-making niche. Could happen, no matter what the Bloggess says.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Never forget, depression really does lie. Knowing this could save your life.

Something came up today that makes me just want to post this in hopes that anyone who is really depressed and needs this message reads it, can take comfort from it and decide to hang on. Depression sucks, suicide sucks even more, and it all really breaks my heart.

It breaks my heart especially because I know how pervasive and reality-distorting depression can be from personal experience. I too have struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past, and I have survived these thoughts. I've learned not to listen much to my mind when it's in depression mode and churning out negative shit, because it's fucking dangerous to do so. Still you have to be aware always, because depression really is a lying bastard, as The Bloggess says, and it is also a very subtle bastard too. One minute you're drinking coffee at your kitchen table worried if you pissed off a close friend then you're thinking what an asshole you are and within 30 minutes you get these thoughts that you really don't deserve to live and you believe every word that fucking depression is telling you. That's how subtle and dangerous it can be. And not a damn word is true.

So, if anyone reading this is really depressed and struggling with suicidal thoughts Please don't leave us. I don't care who you are, what you've done or not done, and whether you feel like you are loved or not, remember this, emblazon it into your soul:  

You are loved. Absolutely. Positively. Whether you're good or bad. You just are. 

I don't care what depression is telling you, I don't care whether you believe you're loved or not. Pretend you believe that you're loved. Pretend it's true. Because it is, I fucking promise you. I know this. You can know it too.

 And please, please call the national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255. We want you here. Please stay.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Now the media tells me I'm sick of bacon. And am possibly a man.

Recently I stumbled across this article on MSNBC.com about one of my favorite subjects: bacon. However, the author informs me that I am sick of bacon. This is so disconcerting to me. I'm sick of bacon? Really? But I'm not sick of bacon! How can I be sick of bacon when I'm not sick of bacon? When did I become sick of bacon, and why didn't I find this out until now? How does she know something that I don't? Is she like a porcine clairvoyant?

This author also tells me that she and everyone else are sick of bacon too, so I'm not alone, but that doesn't make me feel any better.  How can everyone possibly be sick of bacon? What is happening to the world when everyone is sick of bacon? Armageddon is next, I am sure.

In addition to the startling news that I am apparently undergoing bacon fatigue without my knowledge and that everyone is tired of bacon, there were many other things that disturbed me about this article:

  • First of all, the author also informs me that bacon is very trendy these days, which is apparently why we're all sick of it. Now, it bothers me that I've become a part of some sort of trendy trend where bacon has reached a zenith in American society. I'm just not the trendy kind: I wasn't a cool kid in elementary school, junior high school, high school, college or adult life, and I'll be dadgummed if I'm going to be cool now. It's cooler not to be cool than it is to be cool. Unless you were cool first. But if you're cool first and then everybody becomes cool after you, it isn't very cool is it? So it's better not to be cool at all. But unfortunately bacon is now very cool, even as we're all sick of it. And I love eating bacon. How can I love bacon while maintaining my cool uncoolness? I'm not really sure how to resolve this moral dilemma.
  • Secondly, as much as I love bacon, even I have a problem with bacon being in everything. According to this author, bacon, trendy that it is now, is definitely in everything. Yes, it's delicious on baked potatoes, fabulous in dark chocolate, and probably decadent in homemade ice cream, but a corporately-manufactured bacon sundae? Bacon in tequila? Bacon flavored potato chips? Bacon caskets? That's even too much for me.
  • Thirdly, is there a vast pig-wing conspiracy conspiring to make us all slaves to bacon? This article makes me wonder. I mean, I quit being a vegetarian and started consuming large quantities of bacon at about the same time that bacon started trending in the American collective consciousness. So either the pig-powers-that-be brainwashed me with the smell of fried bacon along with everyone else, or I single-handedly started a trend. Which would make me a trendsetter. Which would make me cool. Which brings me back to my moral dilemma above in #1. So looks like I'm screwed no matter what.
  • And Fourthly, bacon is not only trendy, it is gender-specific to males, at least according to the author of this article: "Bacon, real or otherwise, could simply be the 'go ahead, you deserve it' product for men . . . For a market that worships male youth culture, bacon is the perfect product, yoked to masculinity, accessibility and indulgence that you don't need an ID to buy." Apparently I'm more masculine than I thought I was. And so is my mother. And almost every other female I know. Maybe bacon is the new penis envy.
I find this article much more troubling than a sucky economy, rising gas and food prices, climate change, politicians screwing over the U.S., 12/21/12 and the zombie apocalypse. Here I am, finding out I'm trendy when I hate being trendy, overwhelmed by bacon in everything and worried that when bacon kills me my body will be stuffed in a bacon casket. Which means I'll be like a giant filet mignon for God. Furthermore, because of bacon I'm now gender-confused. And it all may be a secret government plot to subdue me with with smoked, fatty, fried pork products and by-products like fake bacon shakes.

So maybe I really should be sick of bacon. Except I'm not, no matter what the media tells me. In fact, all this bacon-centric consternation is making me hungry for a big, fat, greasy bacon cheeseburger. That doesn't really make me a dude, does it?

UPDATE: Please feel free to leave me a comment. I just found out that my Blogger comments settings were set to use that stupid CAPTCHA crap, which I can't stand. That may be why I haven't had many comments. My apologies. I don't want anyone (except spammers) to have to jump through hoops to comment on my posts.  So the CAPTCHA is GONE. I dearly love to get comments, and I try to reply to all comments I get. So please give me a shout! (Please note that if you are a spammer, I will get all stabby on your ass, metaphorically speaking, and will delete your spammy nonsense.)

Friday, April 6, 2012

Five or six or maybe eight things I’ve learned about Twitter

It's now been close to four months since I've been actively using Twitter. During that time I've learned a few random things about Twitter that I'm going to share with you (and no, this isn't going to do a damn thing to help you gain more followers on Twitter, improve your social media skills, attract more chicks or dudes, whiten your teeth or anything else useful):

  1. Twitter is very addicting. It's so much so for me that now that I have an iPhone, I read my Twitter feed in the john. At least I haven't started live tweeting there. Not yet anyway.
  2. Twitter is also a great way to avoid working. However, it doesn't sit very well with your boss when you tell her you were tweeting instead of doing your TPS reports. Especially when social media isn't even remotely part of your job description.
  3. Big-boobed spambots on Twitter, much like email spambots, seem to think I'm a man with ED and lots of money rather than the post-menopausal woman of modest means that I really am. Sorry ladies, I'm just not your type.
  4. It's not a good idea to tweet and talk on your iPhone at the same time. Unless you're 14 years old. Then you probably have the motor skills, and the brain cells, to do that. Post-menopausal women born way before 1982 and named Zippy don't.
  5. I only follow 25 people and I still can’t keep up with everyone’s tweets. How those of you who follow 25,000 people or more keep up with them is completely beyond me. Obviously you've got attention deficit disorder working for you. Or you're 14 years old. Which in many respects is the same thing.
  6. @altonbrown is the shit. For real. I enjoy reading his tweets as much as The Bloggess’. And there was something really sexy about the photo he tweeted this Tuesday of him with his facial stubble and holding a green smoothie. Don't ask me why: I have no frickin' idea.
  7. Having your blogging icon, The Bloggess, follow you on Twitter totally rocks. If that's all I ever accomplish on Twitter, I'll die happy. 
  8. And, yes, #7 may truly be all I accomplish, because even though I'm addicted to Twitter, I still really don't get it. All I know is that I spend entirely too much time on it. Maybe I need to take up knitting socks for cats or something like that instead. At least then I'd get something tangible done.

Friday, March 9, 2012

The Big Blue Funk; AKA My Head is Up My Ass

For the five of you who are my only and most ardent fans, I apologize for my lack of posting lately. Unfortunately, I've had my head up my ass for the last few weeks. Part of this is due to: a) getting a new iPhone, becoming completely enamored of it and spending a fair amount of my spare time just playing around with it (to the chagrin of my boyfriend); b) watching a lot of television, and c) spending the rest of my spare time berating myself and otherwise letting myself fall into a blue funk of stupendous proportions. All of these may  be related, but I think it's more that the iPhone and television are distracting me from my stupendous blue funk.

Blue funks suck quite a bit. And when the Bloggess says depression is a lying bastard, the girl ain't just talking smack. It is absolutely true. I've had depression accuse me of all sorts of shit, and absolutely none of it makes me feel very good about myself. Problem is I don't know how to make it stop. My depression mind loves this shit, loves to tell me how bad I am and lovingly obsesses over every little crappy detail in my life that can prove its theorem that I am just a bad little bitch. I know it's not true, but still, part of me believes it.

In any case, I think it will eventually pass, and I'm not going to jump off a roof or anything. I cycle through these funks from time to time and I always make it through. It just means that I'm having a bit of problem posting. It just seems so overwhelming, and I'd like to be all fun and witty and try to keep the five of you entertained, but it's a little bit difficult at the moment. I'm also trying to figure out what the hell I want this blog to be about. I like being funny, but it's not always easy to write funny, and you and I both know I'm no Bloggess, and you're probably breathing a sigh of relief because I just admitted that. (Don't worry, I've known all along I'm not like the Bloggess, so you don't have to tell me that).

Anyway, I hope the five of you won't give up on me and will come back. I'll try to post some more, but it will probably just be short and sweet, which is probably what it should be anyway. God knows we don't need more hot air and bullshit in this world. Just look at it as I'm trying to be more blogging eco-friendly or something. Shit, that really didn't make any sense to me either, but I'm somewhat sleep deprived and hallucinating. My head is definitely up my ass. I'd better shut up and go to bed.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Beating Myself Up

♡ 2012 Mimi and Eunice. Copying is an act of love. Please copy and share.

There's not much for me to say at the moment, except this is where I've been for the last couple  of weeks. I'll try to come back here soon with my humor more intact. In the meantime, please enjoy this comic by the fabulous Nina Paley.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Gardeners, horny vaginas, parallel universes, and my blog

Periodically a few times a day I obsessively check my blog statistics. I don't know why: it's the same five of you who drop by here all the time. Or maybe it's just me looking at my own blog, except my Google stat thingamabob says I have visitors from China, Australia, Germany, the UK and Canada, so I guess it's not me, unless it's five parallel universe me's from other countries. (Which makes me wonder how you would say "Zippy" in Chinese, you know, just in case I run into my Chinese parallel universe self at some point. Could happen.)

Anywho, I just wanted to tell the five of you that as I took a gander at my stat pages a few minutes ago, I was bamfoozeled to find that someone used a stream of Bloggess-worthy search keywords to find my site: "gardener also has to stuff horny vagina."

Wow. Just wow. I really don't recall writing a single post yet that talks about a vagina, much less a horny one. Much less a horny one that must be stuffed. By a gardener. First of all, I'm not totally sure why someone would even type those search words, but obviously they have a gardener fetish. Or they're a really horny gardener. Secondly, I have no idea why my blog would come up when someone typed those keywords, unless I'm a porn writer in one of those parallel universes and my blog in that parallel universe is a porn site.

However, it occurs to me that in another parallel universe this person must have typed "gardener also has to stuff greasy bacon," and so found my blog that way.  It just got translated to my Google stats through a weird time/space continuum black hole warp thingamajig as porn keyword terminology. That totally makes sense to me.