What it is.
I missed BlogHer this year, and heck yes, I wish I could have gone. I’d have loved to see and freak out over Dooce. I probably would have hugged Amalah and talked really loudly like a freak.
I would have squeezed the daylights out of this crazy lady and been the LOUD OBNOXIOUS third wheel with the aforementioned linkylove and this here lovely. I’d have hugged a bunch more of you, too– those of you I met last year, bloggers I know and would meet at BlogHer 2008, surprise new friendships, busboys, random strangers, I don’t care. I’ll hug you. Come over here and give me some love.
I read up on a couple people’s blogs about the festivities, the amazing sessions, awesome parties, instant bestfriendships, gorgeous setting, and, unfortunately, insecurities. Ugh. I hate reading about the insecurities, stated or otherwise. I hate them because I know them. I lived them at the previous years Blogher and hell, I would have had them at the SanFran event, too.
Shit. I quit reading some posts before I hitting the second negative sentence. I couldn’t take the hurt feelings, any negativity…anything that reminded me of any uncomfortableness. Blech.
That’s not to say hurt feelings weren’t real or valid. Apparently, I hurt feelings when I went, but it wasn’t intentional. (insert excuses here! People love excuses!) I was 6 weeks pregnant and nauseated most of the time; I couldn’t tell people WHY ON EARTH I wasn’t guzzling the free wine, and I was too exhausted to even want to attend any parties (had I been invited to any, which was NO). But I was fine with that, because a couple of blogger women and me had decided to meet up and get to know one another so we would never feel the pains of high school dance angst. Honestly, I don’t regret for a second going to BlogHer 2007; I just wish I had felt better so I could have been more myself instead of Nauseated and Easily Irritated Stacy. Had I been more my usual SUNSHINEY SELF, I probably could have reduced any ill feelings owing to what truly was a look of holding-back-vomit, when it came across to others as an unfriendly face.
I gotta tell you, though, one post I read post-BlogHer, which I think (again: memory = Swiss Cheese) had to do with the whole BlogHer news in the style section of a paper, reacted to how mommy bloggers, in general, are being gathered up and catered to…given free merch to for reviews, etc. I see that many popular bloggers were given $500 to JC Penney to then blog about. Bloggers are being flown to various cities, sponsored by scores of different organizations and companies, to be given hot shit swag and then blog about it (or not…I’m not sure if all swag comes with strings attached).
I’m going to give it to you straight: I’ve never been solicited for free stuff. If you’re sitting behind your computer wondering if you’re the only blogger (esp: mommyblogger) who isn’t being contacted for free trips and free merch, hear it from me: YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
When I read the post that said basically, “and who’s not getting contacted…” a pit in my tummy developed that reminded me of a night with bad mussels. Am I the only one, I thought? Am I that bad of a writer (don’t worry, I know the answer to that) that I’m the only one “they” don’t want to pepper with free maxipads, digital SLR cameras and trips to the beach?
Fuck. No. No, I’m not. Sure, I’m not the best writer. I know writing a cohesive post isn’t my strength. I realize I started late in the game and don’t hang out with the veterans (yes, we know…you JOURNALED FIRST). And not that if I did start earlier, I’d be raking in the well-paid gigs and giving away cars through my random number generator. I realize that. But what do I want then?
I’m just a person who decided to start a blog as a place to vent about life. To share the stories that I used to share with my friends and colleagues on a daily an hourly basis, but since we’ve moved so much, I thought it would be easier to “tell” the story once instead of half a dozen times via the internet. Sure. I’d LOVE to get some free shit, but I don’t want it if I have to blow sunshine up a company’s ass with positive reviews. Sure. I’d love a trip to talk to marketing people, at their expense, to opine about products and services.
At this point in my life, however, I just want a little more time to myself. To blog, to read your stories, to share a little couch time with my husband after blowing bubbles in the bath with Jojo and letting Nugget play with my hair before falling asleep. I want to continue the wonderful friendships I’ve made throughout the years — those made in the sandbox, at the workplace, in the neighborhoods and over the interweb. I want to not take myself so seriously and also step out from behind my jokes and take myself seriously. I want to be a better wife. I want to be a better mom. I want to be a better daughter, sister, sister-in-law and friend. Please note: I don’t want to be a better employee; work can suck it.
So that’s what it is. A huge ass post about what? Yeah, I don’t know either. Just know: whatever you are blogging about…if it’s important to you, if it gives you a source of pleasure and/or purpose, then it’s good stuff. It’s worthy of your time and space on the web. If you just started today, congratulations and welcome and have fun. Don’t be frustrated by stories of ad riches, high stats (I haven’t checked my stats in at least 6 months. yay!), or comments. Just go and read and write and have fun.
With that said, I have to go to bed because I just minddumped all over myself.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:23 pm |
Ass-Kicking? Moi?
Thanks to one of my closest interweb friends, Carrisa, I was given the Kick Ass Blogger Award. I’m not sure what I did to warrant this…clearly, it’s not for centering the award or otherwise manipulating the text to wrap around the g.d. graphic WHAT IS WITH WORDPRESS LATELY?
Ahem. I digress..
Not since my August 1998 Little Caesar’s Employee of the Month award have I been been so surprised by such an honor!
Unlike my aforementioned Little Caesar’s Employee of the Month award, the Kick Ass Blogger Award does not come with a big button to wear on my pleather apron or $25 in cold hard cash, but it does allow for me to pass along the love to five other kick ass bloggers!
Just 5? In no particular order, five kick ass bloggers that I heart long time are:
* Britt at Fluent Brittish — I’m not sure what took me so dang long to catch on to her blog, as she’s a friend of my BBF, Isabel, but HELLO, this girl cracks me up! I love her! I know when we meet, one of us will end up in a head lock and someone may pee themselves.
* Liza at Liza Was Here — this woman has a lot going on in her life, and she’s willing to share it with the interweb! While writing grammatically correct and thoughtful posts here and at Deep South Moms, Liza still finds time to support her friends and kick ass!
* Jen at Keep Passing the Open Windows — I wish Jen and I were neighbors (ok, that’s true of many of you!). I love her blog, her stories, and her comments. Her posts tend to be shorter than average, which is GREAT for reading at work or getting to the hysterical point…kind of like what SNL should do.
* La Turista — I fell for this hilarious chica as soon as I read her. I just loved her immediately & feel like even if we haven’t blogged or commented in a couple of months, we can catch up without all the awkwardness. She doesn’t appear to take blogging too seriously, which I admire.
* Kristabella - She tells a good story and isn’t afraid to laugh at herself! Next time I visit Chicago, I’m buying this kick ass blogger a glass o’ fine wine.
Thank you, again, Carrisa, for the award. You made my night!
*****
Check out New To Us… I finally blogged about the Nugget!
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:22 pm |
The Face of “Ingrate”
Looks innocent and lovely enough, doesn’t he? Well, this is the kid who turned away (gasp!) the boob that feeds him in favor of a (double gasp!) bottle.
For one thing, I’m relieved he finally accepted the bottle at daycare.
On the other hand, I’ll be over there, in the corner, crying.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:30 am |
How do you NOT know who Keyser Soze is?
Hand over my heart, one of the new work interns is Keyser Soze.
If the identical physical likeness and soft voice isn’t enough to completely melt my MIND, the fact that NO ONE HERE KNOWS WHO KEYSER SOZE IS might just tip me over the edge into an obscenity-laced freakout. I’ve said “Keyser Soze is IN MY OFFICE” to no fewer than three people only to be met with blank stares.
Maybe we can use this move-related downtime to download some Netflix movies and educate those less fortunate. I mean, REALLY? COME ON now.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:13 pm |
My 2 Cents: Men Who Try to Flirt While Driving
Thank you to the trucker who blew me a kiss today. Gee, I feel so sexy.
I’m not 16. I’m not cruising main street as my evening’s social activities. I’m in a minivan, the anti-sexy, at morning rush hour. And considering I returned your gesture by quickly turning away and speeding up, that wasn’t an invitation to continue flirting by HONKING your big ol’ horn.
It’s probably the reaction you hoped for, right? You just wanted a reaction. You didn’t expect me to change course and follow you to the nearest lot, right? Good. Cuz you looked rather scuztacular.
But really? Is it just the attention they seek? Just to spice up their otherwise boring day of cackling on their radios to one another? Do men who drive up beside you with no intention to pass and keep slightly varying their speeds so you eventually HAVE to look over at them because MAYBE they’re a concerned motorists trying to let you know that your tire looks flat or your muffler just exited the underside but then instead give you the “hey sexy laaaaddyyy” really think they have a chance?
I mean, ick. Go away. We’re propelling veritable fiery death traps at high rates of speed, jackelope. Eyes on the road! Hands at 10 and 2. I don’t want to flirt with you.
To the sicko who to this DAY gives me the heebie jeebies because of when I finally looked over to the right at him while traveling north on US 131: I definitely didn’t need to see you jerking off. Seatbelts? Not optional, so zip it, strap in and save your whack session for when you’re home alone.
Honestly, how would he have explained THAT crash scene to his momma?
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:54 am |
One Week Down…
About 25 more years of work to go! That’s something uplifting my retired and oh so hilarious father says when we chat about work. But I did it. I went back to work, albeit for 2.5 days.
As I mentioned, our office is preparing to move off campus next week, so to come back this particular week didn’t allow for a seamless re-entry; and, I don’t say that JUST because of the Tape Dispenser Incident (see previously linked post for a most ranteriffic rant.).
AND speaking of the tape dispenser incident, my friend Sticks Magee, who shared the office with me last semester said the crappy tape dispenser on MY desk sounds like the tape dispenser that she was given, meaning I’m the victim of the Ol’ Switcheroo. I hate the Ol’ Switcheroo! Unless, of course, I’ve pulled the Ol’ Switcheroo, but obviously NOT THIS TIME. Snap!
Does anyone know where I can get some invisible ink pen which, upon special lighting, will elicit the secret message which I will write on all future office supplies…something like “if this isn’t sitting on Stacy’s desk, you can kiss your Hot Pocket goodbye?”
Also… remember when I was sprayed in the head with a hose while sitting on the toilet? Well, that definitely didn’t happen to me at work, but I wished I had a video recording of my facial expression (and facial expression ONLY, sickos), because what my face registered was pure shock.
Well, I think an even funnier video could have existed of me on Tuesday when I stepped into the work elevator ONLY to remember as the doors were closing that HOLY SHIT DIDN’T THIS THING CATCH FIRE WHEN I WAS OUT ON MATERNITY LEAVE?
Oh yes, it did. The elevator caught fire and THEN a couple of people have been trapped in it since then (not while on fire, thankfully). So as the doors were closing, I suddenly came out of my post-lunch walking coma and herky-jerked wavy-armed leapt towards the doors to force them back open all while trying to keep from screeching obscenities.
I made it out alive and took the stairs to the vending machine.
Yes, I almost died trying to get post-(big)-lunch PopTarts.
On Thursday, in an attempt to avoid the vending machine (and accidental fiery elevator/death trap), save money, and eat healthier, I brought snacks and actually ate them! Go me! But my true feelings of not visiting the vending area showed loudly and passionately when I was informed that (deep breath) the vending machine was GONE. GONE. Had been removed. NO LONGER. See ya. No PopTarts. No Doritos. No chocolate.
Gasp.
The pop machine? Still there. Ohhh good. The pop machine that only takes coins because the dollar bill taker works every fourth Monday in months ending in “g.” And only if the moon is in its fourth phase.
We can’t get to the new building (with shiny new elevators!) soon enough. Actually, if I recall, we’re on the first floor, so I can avoid fiery deathtraps all together.
And that concludes my rambling and incomplete story of my first week back to work. Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of the Tape Dispenser Chronicles…
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
9:02 pm |
Team Cooper
As many of you know, I heart Anderson Cooper since his days wooing contestants and viewers as the host of my fave reality game show, The Mole.
This hottie (yes, I KNOW) has come under fire from Dina Lohan, and I’ll be making up my Team Cooper tshirts this weekend.
Don’t mess with The Coop, crazy stage mom. He just calls them like he sees them. And he sees trainwreck.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
11:06 am |
Multi-Tasking to a Whole New Level
Yes, my posture may be bad. Yes, it’s not a pretty picture, but I’m coming at you LIVE! From the office! WHILE pumping. Look interweb — no hands!
Thank the stars for locked office doors.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
1:39 pm |
Hello from the Office!
I’m back at work, and I couldn’t be more off my mark. I feel fuzzy and migrainey and confused.
I’m sure some of this general discombobulation can be attributed to the lack of sleep I’ve been getting thanks to the Nugget’s new nighttime routine of crying out every 15 minutes because he’s flipped himself over onto his tummy and cannot get back to his preferred position of left side fetal position. Seriously, kid, let’s work on that because OH MY GOD go back to sleep. I’m dying.
Then there’s the whole getting the kids together and ready for daycare without getting spit-up on me and making sure I remember all of the necessities (which today, I forgot my cellphone and more bags for pumping, so I had to run out and buy more). Not to mention, the massive Nugget (no longer a nugget. Now a ROCK.) requires a lot of upper body strength to heft him into daycare along with his diaper bag, the bag of pumped milk, Jojo and anything for Jojo I need to bring for that day.
I know many parents do this and with many more kids, even, but hey, it’s my blog and I can whine if I want to. Today, my sister-in-law was visiting, so she helped get Jojo in the car, so I still haven’t done the transfer on my own. I’m sure it will become routine in time, right? (This is where you nod your head and say “yes, of course! And my, your skin looks fantastic! Have you lost weight, too?)
Jojo has taken to crying fits upon hearing the word “daycare” or “school,” so I try to work in fun words like “FRIENDS” and “TOYS” and “PLAYGROUND” and “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” but they usually don’t cut through the tears like I pray they do. He does have fun though…I usually stay around to peek through the door and watch him. He’s fine. Adorable. Almost toooo adorable, as I want to just pull up a stool and watch him all day instead of getting back into the van to head to work.
And work. Work. The “new” building isn’t ready for us yet, so my crafty plan to avoid “the move” and arrive in a minty fresh office didn’t hatch as expected. Everyone’s offices are piled high with cardboard boxes and random items that are currently in use but will be boxed as soon as we move next week.
As if this wasn’t enough, something strange has happened to my tape dispenser. Oh yes, don’t mess with my tape dispenser. It’s all … taped up. Like the perp didn’t like some of the pieces and instead of throwing them away, just stuck them all over the tape dispenser and not in a “HA! Your tape dispenser has been PUNK’D!” More like a, I have zero respect for your tape dispenser and am tapin’ all over it because I’m lazy. So I spent a few minutes de-taping it, hunted down a new roll of tape (oh yes, the perp didn’t refill said defaced dispenser), and then TA-FRIGGING-DA, I realized that the little black roundish thing that holds the tape in the dispenser has been taken (I’m guessing thrown away with the empty roll?), so now what? It’s not like I work for some swanky office where shiny new tape dispensers line the overflowing shelves of coordinated office supplies. I’ll probably have to file a frigging purchase order, figure out which account to bill it to and then get yelled at by our office manager for not knowing that the account number changed in my absence.
It’s weird being here. Just weird. I’m off my game. That’s all I can tell you. We’ll see how long this all lasts.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
1:10 pm |
Doing the Running Girl
Cuz it’s my birthday. No really, I didn’t do the Running Man, I did more of a two thumbs pointing at me while dorkin’ out my legs. When did I do this? Yesterday, when the UPS guy brought my second bouquet of flowers! Today, a third bouquet is arriving, courtesy of The Nugget (the first two were from Jojo and Mr. Squirrel).
They’re gorgeous, btw, but the real point? I danced in front of the UPS guy, and he loved it. AND WHO WOULDN’T?
So it’s my birthday. The Nugget has already gifted me several hours of sleeplessness, one outfit change for me, one outfit change for him and loads of adorable smiles and coos.
Jojo? Ohhh my dream boy. He awoke in a great mood after getting to bed very late after attending his first minor league baseball game with daddy.
We were in mid-dressing when he decided to grab his gift for me and head downstairs. My little naked Jojo sang to me (part of) the birthday song and gave me my new Monster Truck (the one I always get stuck playing with has a bent axle…very annoying, let me tell you) while traversing the steps to our first floor. And to prove that he is my child, he excitedly told me “I bought this for you at Target!” Ahhh my love.
Now I’m alone at home, as the boys are (still) transitioning to daycare. I have a load to do! More cleaning out of the closets (note: curses to JEN for suggesting I take some clothes to a consignment shop…now I’m re-organizing AGAIN…but kisses to you if I get some cash)! More trips to Target and Other Stores! More Laundry! But hey, I get to do it all without crying children.
Then, lunch with Mr. Squirrel, more errands and perhaps even a (cue the choir) NAP!!!!
I already miss my chitlins, so I may be picking their squeezable biscuits up early before Family Dinner and PRESENTS. Not that I’m excited. Except that I am and YES, Smitty, I heart the adorable flip-flops you sent me and am already wearing them and who wants to stake claim on the awesome little trifecta of pendants sent to me from an adorable Etsy shop? There was no note…my many thanks and oooohs and ahhhhs are up for grabs! Act now (and really, I love the pendants and am wearing the squirrel one!).
Ok, I love you all. Thanks for making the past couple of years extra awesome. I cannot frigggginnnnggg believe I’m THIRTY SIX. Yes, AlyndaBear, you may be MUCH younger than me, but at least I don’t have a crazy cat nipping at my toes. Seriously?
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
9:05 am |