Friday, June 20, 2008

Because You, Internet, Are Nothing If Not Thorough.

Okay. So I may have caused a mini panic in my two readers by my last couple of enigmatic posts. Some have you have trolled my archives and wonder if the Event of Which I Must Not Speak is somehow related to things that start with the letter C.

I just want to let you know that my reticence to share things has nothing to do with my health--which, as far as I know, is good and golden for two years and three months running. And thank you for being concerned. That was warm and fuzzy and really, really generous.

(Of course, I have a doctor's appointment next month and just by saying the above that probably means I'm due for some kind of biopsy followed by a period of wallowing and abjection. But that's Next Month. And that's more than a week away.)

No, my limited readership, I am in good health and my unwillingness to share things personal with you (what? yes. I know. NOW I hold back) has nothing to do with health or scariness and everything to do with my firm belief that if you say it OUT LOUD you will GET SCREWED.

Engrave that on a candy heart.

No, good things are lined up for us, reader 1 and reader 2. And we're very excited. And even with that, I've probably said too much. Because the shit will hit the proverbial fan and I will melt into an extreme and sticky depression and I should just be quiet now and let things take their due course. That is, the one I want them to take.

(Oh my, I am so very annoying. All this superfluous mystery. And yet, alas.)

And reader 1, don't you dare allude to what it is I'm talking about in your comments because you know exactly what I'm talking about and now is NOT THE TIME to be flaunting your insider knowledge. So keep your frakking mouth shut.

If you would.


So kindly.

Thanks. The Mngmnt.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Stop. Already. Please Your Begging Is Embarrassing Me.

Okay, okay. I'll write a post. But it won't be about "The Thing." Because we've vowed not to talk about The Thing until It has been committed to paper and signed and sealed with blood other than ours.

So you'll just have to settle for subthings. And I really don't know what those are quite yet because The Thing has been consuming our lives for so long now that I really don't know if other things exist. I'm sure they do. I'm sure they're waiting, anxiously, patiently, with twittering thumbs and bouncy knees to stake their claim. And I'm equally sure, because karma makes it so, that they will make their presence known boldly enough before the month is done. Because they are like that. All jittery and needy and unable to keep their mouths shut. Especially when faced with such bold affront. And yet . . .

Wow. It's been a crazy June. And May. And April. And who knew March could be such a flaming bitch? (Oh, that would be ME. March still has yet to do me right. Review the cancer archives if you need proof. Told. You. So.)

Yes, I'm feeling a bit aggressive this evening. Because I have a lot riding on This Hope that I refuse to tell you about.

Okay, yes, I know. Enough. Let me share things I can.

Uh, let's see.

  • Had a birthday. Ate a pound of chocolate. By myself. That was good. Spent the following 14 days in the gym. Not so much worth it. Because I'm still sore . . .
  • Had father's day. Blew that little piece of necessary celebration--because of The Thing. But I didn't suck totally because I bought the man in question season 1 of Flight of the Concords and . . .
  • Played some Mario Kart, and quickly and subsequently (not necessarily in that order ) realized our five-year-old was addicted to the Wii, and ergo had to implement measures to mediate the Wii.
  • Have gone six months into the year-- a full Six Months--without bleeding or a week-long trip to the hospital. Which means that we'll be admitted next week--just because I've been brazen enough to call out that oversight to the gods. Yes, I am stupid that way.
  • Have listened to the ColdPlay album, unabashedly, for about 24 hours. Straight. It's a bullet point, but I can't say that I'm entirely proud of my admission . . .
  • Made a bullet list in my blog. Oh my. I just made a bullet list in my blog. That must be a sign of apocalyse. At least gas isn't $3 to $5 bucks a gallon. What? Oh . . .

Monday, June 16, 2008

Monday Nights

From the bathroom: Thump. Thump, thump . . . thump.

Me: You okay?

Finn: Yeah.

Finn: . . .

Finn: But the toothpaste isn't.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

And Then There Was Silence

Oo. That stung a little bit.

Okay, so give me a sec here to peel myself off the floor , wipe off, and let my, One Glorious Reader!, know that I have a new article up at the Kansas City Star.

And someone read it. There's a comment . . . there . . .

Friday, June 06, 2008

Okay, Now I Need Your Help . . .

So, I'm going to do this thing. I'm going to enter one of my blog posts in a contest.

Yes, I am. Are too. Are too. Are too. Are too infinity.

I could be crazy. (Already confirmed.) Or just delusion, but I thought maybe it was just about time to bust this audience open to more than just you. And you. Back there. Hiding. Yes, I know you're there. Even though you never say anything and you just peek in for just a minute and then bolt, I see you. Sneering. And I've known you've been there All Along.

So you and you, I need your help. I have to submit my best blog post, and I would like your opinion.

Seriously. Do too. Do too. Do too. Do too infinity.

So care to share? Is there anything I've written that has affected you, in a positive way?

Thank you, my community of two.