You Look Like You Could Use Some Random Thoughts

• I am obsessed with This American Life. It's like candy to me and makes me wonder if I should have been a reporter. 
• I would like to have Ira Glass and his wife over for a dinner party.
• Speaking of dinner parties, I don't understand why nobody ever asks me anything about myself, my job, my life at dinner parties. 
• What if I won the Pulitzer Prize last week? How would you ever know, people at dinner parties? 
• Good thing I have a blog to make me feel fascinating.
• Guess what? At dinner parties, I ask people about themselves. 
• I am done with my Dinner Party Soapbox now. 
• Thank you for reading. 
• (You were reading, weren't you?)
• I am also obsessed with Undercover Boss, although I had a disheartening thought: If the show gets wildly popular, it won't work anymore because people will be expecting it. 
• However, temp employees everywhere will suddenly get treated like undercover CEOs. I guess that's a good thing for the temps of the world.
• As long as I'm listing obsessions, let's go ahead and add giant chocolate chip cookies to the list.
• There is currently giant chocolate chip cookie dough chilling in the fridge.
• I can quit giant chocolate chip cookies anytime, I swear.
• I have another gripe: moms who are judgmental about other moms.
• It makes me terribly sad.
• And a little bit mad, too.
• But mostly sad.
• Dads don't sit around judging other dads, do they?
• This would make a fascinating topic at a dinner party.
• Especially if Ira Glass and his wife were there.
• I'm not a very judgmental person unless you do something that I think is really stupid.
• Or if you give me the sense that I am morally superior to you.
• Just kidding. 
• I love this thought: "I did the best I could with what I knew and who I was at the time."
• Isn't it great?
• I don't like tattoos, but I think that would make a good tattoo because it is very profound.
• And it would also be kind of funny, because tattoos are something that people usually end up regretting.
• Another funny tattoo would be, "I hate tattoos!"
• Another funny tattoo would be, "My parents went on a trip to Hawaii and all I got was this stupid tattoo."
• I'm going to call the local tattoo parlor and give them some of these ideas.
• And then I will send them an invoice.
• Because I don't work for free.
• I think that is all for now.
• Thank you for reading.
• (You were reading, weren't you?)

A Fascinating Rumble

I have important things to get done today,
Things that people are expecting from me.
So important, in fact,
That I have grounded myself from distractions--
No TV, no music, no phone.
(Sometimes I treat myself like a teenager.)
I settle down to work,
To crank out amazing things,
To be prolific and clever,
But I keep getting distracted
By a rumbling noise in my gut.
It's shockingly loud.
Don't worry, I'm not hungry.
My belly is full of shrimp wonton soup,
And a modest tear of a giant chocolate chip cookie,
As well as a full glass of water.
The sounds, though, are amazing.
Rumbling, rupturing, resounding.
Epic, echoing, enchanting.
No pain at all, just the rumble of heavy bass,
Like that gangster car at the stoplight behind you.
Hey, abdomen, what is going on in there?
What's all the ruckus?
Turn it down for crying out loud!
I have important things to do!
Do you think they will understand when I tell them?
I'm sorry I didn't get my work done,
There was a fascinating rumble in my digestive tract. 

The Ordinary Olympics

This was an exercise from my writing group last week, using this prompt: Without knowing about it, today you have been participating in The Ordinary Olympics. What events did you compete in, how were you judged, and how did you do?

My first Olympic event today was the Getting Off My Duff and Out of Bed rotation. The judges felt that my slow response to turning off the alarm was worth a three-point deduction.

My next event was Getting Children Off to School, which I performed fairly well, other than a last-minute scramble in which I gave Max two answers on his homework in order to get it finished in time. Unfortunately, the judges disqualified me from this event, claiming that it was cheating.

My next event was a relay race--to Pilates, back home, to computer, to washer, to dryer, to sink, to shower, to hair dryer, and back to computer. I managed to finish just in time to qualify for tomorrow's competition.

What about you? Take a few minutes and write your own response!

Home Office Staff Meeting

Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for coming. I know it's been a while since our last staff meeting and I apologize for not treating this as the priority it truly is. To tell you the truth, that's one of the hardest things about management--weighing the needs of the office against the wants of the manager and the important TV shows that are waiting in the DVR. This is hard work, people.

But back to business. I'd like to address a few important items today before I pull out a few comments from the Suggestion Box for discussion.

1. To begin with, I need to address a somewhat delicate subject and I ask for your maturity and decorum. The night shift is an important part of the workday here at the office. There is an expectation that each of our employees will know their assigned space for the night shift and remain in it until morning. There has been some scheming on the part of one of our employees that is bothering me, and I would like to address it now. I don't like to name names, so I'll just say this: If your night shift assignment is the doggie kennel in the family room, then the doggie kennel is where you are expected to remain. Waiting until 2:00 a.m., when the managers are completely incoherent, to invade their assigned space--no matter how comfy and warm you find it to be--is, quite frankly, manipulative and unethical. No matter how innocent your intentions, it is never a good idea to be sleeping in your boss's bed. ARE WE CLEAR?

2. The facilities manager has asked that we issue a few standard rules regarding the usage of the company restrooms. (Actually, the facilities manager requested that the rules be posted on every wall of the restrooms, as well as tattooed on the foreheads of each employee.) I struck a compromise with her, letting her know that I would address the issue in this meeting. So, I ask you to please, PLEASE, comply with the following rules:

• Employees should never use the toilet without flushing. Period.
• On a related note, employees should never use the toilet for "number two" without using toilet paper. 
• On yet another related note, no employee should ever have to happen upon an un-flushed toilet with "number two" and no toilet paper. Disturbing images like that can upset the entire workday, actually.
• Whoever is eating the used Kleenexes in the waste basket should stop. 

3. There seems to be confusion about where personal belongings can be stowed during the workday. Your personal effects--coats, shoes, backpacks, etc.--should be placed neatly in your personal workspace or the company closet, not haphazardly abandoned in the middle of the company lobby or at the foot of the main staircase. We were issued a warning from Worker's Compensation recently when these items were identified as a hazard. On several other occasions, the security guard spent valuable company time filling out incident reports thinking she had happened upon a crime scene. If this situation is not brought under control, management will be forced to revoke Spongebob privileges and garnish marshmallows.  

Alright, now that I've covered those items, let's pull a few comments from the Suggestion Box:

"its not fayr that sum werkers hav niis cumfee bedz an sum werkers hav tynee kayjus"

Thank you for this anonymous comment. Yes, some employees here have nice, comfortable beds and others have been provided with other, species-appropriate spaces in which to rest. While I would love to be a company successful enough to provide lavish suites for all employees, regardless of species, I will remind you that we are a small business and as such are bound by constraints such as space and money. I would also remind you that the recent Supreme Court ruling in Fido vs. The Johnsons supports our right as management to assign you to species-appropriate workspaces.  Frankly, I'm bothered by this comment. In today's economy, I would think that any employee--human or canine--would be grateful simply for the right to live and work in a heat-controlled environment.

Ahem. Next comment: 

"Please stop serving pancakes and spaghetti."

Really? But I thought everybody liked pancakes and spaghetti! 

And our final comment from the Suggestion Box: 

"can we go 2 target?"

No, we cannot go to Target. Well, okay, maybe we can go to Target.

Thanks again to everyone for your attendance. You are all valued and appreciated parts of our company; and while we are unable to prove that to you monetarily, we hope you will enjoy unlimited pancakes and spaghetti in the company cafeteria on Tuesdays.

What I Gave Ryan for His Birthday

For Ryan's birthday, I had one of my favorite pictures from last summer printed on a canvas for him to hang in his office. It incorporates two of his favorite things: our kids and the beach. This image of it is a bit washed out, but the real thing looked pretty stinking great.

You can order your own here. (Your own canvas of your own photo, that is. You can't order one of my kids. That's creepy. Unless you're my mom.)

Three Additional Items (Plus Nine More) About Me And Then I'm Done

1. I am a reformed dog fearer/hater. I owe it all to my dog Lucy, the great canine ambassador.
2. I love everything about summer--absolutely everything. Are you sweltering? I'm sorry, I'll take some of that summer off your hands.
3. I prefer road trips to a plane ride, but I don't mind a plane ride at all.
4. When I'm sitting in a class, I always nod and try to give the teacher cues that I'm listening.
5. The older I get, the more liberal I get.
6. My favorite smell is Ryan's cologne, D&G La Lune 18. It's delicious. (I love it so much that I spray it on myself sometimes.)
7. I had a happy and safe childhood, and I understand what a big deal that is. I get it. (Thanks, Mom and Dad.)
8. The more I accept the imperfections in the people I love, the more fully I love them. 
9. I love a good, brisk walk outside in the afternoon, but I love a slow, hand-in-hand stroll around a dark neighborhood, too.
10. I am over-the-moon for my kids. I love them so intensely, I can actually feel a physical ache inside when I think about them.
11. I love and adore Ryan's family as much as my own. 
12. So far, my thirties are my favorite decade. 

I had this great idea when February began that I would share three things about myself in eleven different posts to equal thirty-three things about myself before my thirty-third birthday. (Whew!)

I ran out of time.

But we're all caught up now, and just in time. Today is my thirty-third birthday. It's also Ryan's thirty-third birthday (but we are not fraternal twins). I'm off to celebrate!

Still Blogging After All These Years: Confessions of a Four-Year Blogger

Today my blog is four years old. It doesn't seem real that I have been at this for so long, although in some ways it seems even longer. Perhaps that is because I'm calculating this in Human Years as opposed to Blog Years. In Blog Years, I am 118 years old.

In honor of this anniversary, here is a list of my top 40 blogging confessions:

1. I still like to blog. I get in a slump every now and then and wonder if there is a purpose to this; but like a cheesy love ballad, I always come back.
2. Blogging has made me a better writer, giving me a forum to practice every day.
3. After four years, I still have no ability to predict which posts will get a lot of response.
4. I think blogging is a great way to meet interesting people you wouldn't otherwise meet.
5. When somebody new comments on my blog, I always follow the link to their blog. 
6. A lot of my blogging friendships began in the comments section. 
7. I absolutely consider some of my blog friends (even ones I haven't met in person) real friends.
8. However, I still have some blog shame about this hobby and rarely mention my blog to anybody in real life. 
9. Relatedly, I have only recently become comfortable using the phrase, "I read on somebody's blog..."
10. I still love comments, but I'm not obsessed with them anymore.
11. I have received only one mean comment from somebody who accused me of "extremely juvenile writing."
12. (I responded by throwing myself on the ground and screaming, "Nu-uh, you big dummy meanie-head!")
13. I frequently have to scale back the amount of blogs in my Google Reader. I call it blog dieting.
14. Blogging as a medium fascinates me and confirms my belief that anybody can write and that most people want to.
15. I'm not sure I agree with the theory that all blogs must be defined and fall into a category. I'll be mulling this one over for a while.
16. Right now, I'm slightly obsessed with cooking blogs. 
17. I like blogs with pictures of the author. I like to see the real person behind the blog, which is probably why I post pictures of myself.
18. I sold my first spot of advertising on my blog a few months ago after being approached about it, and I don't even feel like a sell out.
19. For the record, I will definitely accept money to blog.
20. Can you find the ad? It's kind of hard to spot, like Waldo in his snowcap and thick glasses.
21. I don't plot out what I'm going to blog about. Ever.
22. I stand at Blogging's Door and wait for something to drift into my brain before I step inside.
23. I envy those who can plan out their posts.
24. Only a handful of times have I began a post, saved it as a draft, and finished it later. It's now or never, baby.
25. Most of my loved ones read my blog, and that makes me feel happy inside, like they care about what I'm thinking and are interested in knowing me better.
26. In the same spirit, I love reading the blogs of my loved ones. So many treasures that would never occur in conversation can be revealed on a blog.
27. I check Google Analytics fairly regularly to see who is reading and who is referring.
28. I stopped listing a blogroll quite a while ago, simply because I read too many blogs, some of which are private, and I was horrible at updating it (and consequently offending people). 
29. Every morning I read blogs for a few minutes until I need to make breakfast.
30. Anytime I have a spare minute, you'll find me browsing a blog.
31. For the longest time, I felt obligated to read every word a blogger wrote in a post.
32. I no longer feel this obligation, particularly if I don't know the blogger personally. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MONUMENTAL THIS WAS FOR ME TO REALIZE.
33. I also comment less than I ever have, which has made me enjoy blogging more. It is recreation, not obligation.  
34. I used to feel an obligation to post every (week)day. I don't feel that obligation anymore.
35. I used to secretly dream of being a famous blogger. I don't have that dream anymore.
36. Every now and then, I go into my archives to see what I was doing on the same day a year ago, two years ago, three years ago. This is the best I've ever done at keeping a personal history.
37. Though it pains me to admit, I think I'm funnier on my blog than I am in real life.
38. I'm also thinner and more attractive on my blog than in real life.
39. My blog has only been the star of one major marital fight (major=yelling and tears) and a supporting actress in a few lesser arguments. 
40. After a comment my brother made to me last year, I have decided to give up feeling apologetic about time I spend creating, writing, and blogging. I used to feel that it was self-indulgent, I guess. But blogging is a way for me to know myself better, to practice my craft, to stand at the microphone and take all the time I want. And I love that about it. No more apologies.

Do you have any blogging confessions to share? 

Three Things About My Childhood

1. My dearest childhood friend was Kelly. She lived around the corner and despite the fact that I was deathly afraid of her family's Chihuahua named Cocoa Bean, I loved to spend afternoons at her house playing games and dreaming up a million things to be when we grew up. At one point or another, our career goals included being fashion designers, archaeologists, singers, and astronauts (though I was not as committed to space travel as Kelly). Not only was Kelly terribly cool, she was incredibly kind. Once in elementary school, we found ourselves in the middle of some girl drama--being recruited into a group that was planning to exclude several others. I remember Kelly bringing me a note after school, written in her cute handwriting with little doodled cartoons, letting me know that I could do whatever I wanted, but that she wasn't going to take part in anything that made other people feel bad. Every kid should have a friend like that.

2. I remember being half-asleep in our big red station wagon on our way home from somewhere, anywhere. I'd keep my eyes closed and try to guess where we were by the feel of the road--the stops, the bumps, the turns. As soon as I felt the car go over one slow dip, then two dips close together, I knew we were almost home.

3. There was a house in our neighborhood, next door to Kelly's, that reeked of sadness. In our otherwise tidy neighborhood, this house was unkempt and unwelcoming. One year, a strange man came to live with the family, except that he didn't live in the house. He lived in a small pop-up trailer parked on the side of the house. He was an ex-con, and that's what we called him, "the ex-con," even though I used the term before I actually knew what it meant. He would sit outside all the time, smoking, and watching as people came and went. Neighborhood gossip informed us that he was a rapist, a burglar, a kidnapper. It was terrifying and thrilling, but mostly terrifying. I often rode my purple bike the long way to get to Kelly's house to avoid his stare. I don't remember what ever happened to him. Does anybody remember?

Three Things About My Love (Belated Valentine's Edition)

1. I believe that being in love means full support of someone else's goals, dreams, and pursuits. It's doing whatever it takes for however long to make one statement truer than any other, "I never could have done it without you."

2. I believe that being in love means letting the person you love be exactly who they are, and never trying to change them into a version of themselves that you think you might prefer. No changies. No reversies.

3. I believe that being in love means taking only a little piece of the chocolate chip cookie on the counter, leaving the rest for your sweetie. And then later, when you walk by the cookie, you may find that he has taken only a little bit of the cookie, leaving some more for you. And that is called being in love. Or maybe that is called being on a diet together and neither of you should be eating any of the cookie in the first place. In that case, the half-eaten cookie really has nothing to do with love and more to do with a guilty lack of self-control on both parts. But it's definitely one of those two.

Care to share three things about your thoughts on love?

I Almost Forgot These Three Things You Need To Know About Me

1. I've always been a big fan of Thursdays. Thursdays are so likeable! Even my neighbors at the bus stop like Thursdays. On Fridays they say, "Thank Goodness It's Friday!" but on Thursdays, they say "So Happy It's Thursday!" And I'm like, "HEY, ME TOO!"

2. I love back scratches, but not foot rubs. And back rubs. I love back rubs. But I don't like semi-colons.

3. There was a period of my childhood when all of the greeting cards given in my family featured at least one chimpanzee.

Is there anything you're forgetting to tell me about yourself?

Winter Angst Poetry Winners!

A great, big, fat Thank You to everyone who entered the Winter Angst Poetry Contest! The poetry was fabulous and filled with animosity--just the way I like it. The judging was difficult, but I have finally finished and I now present to you the 2010 Winter Angst Poetry Contest winners:

First Place and winner of 25 ordinary dollars to Target is Lindsay E., who made the deadline by only three minutes! Well done, Lindsay, this poem made me laugh, think, and applaud:

Boo, Precipitation
Trek up into the mountains, where You'll see amidst the frostbitten air
Each creature, slumbering in its lair--
Hibernation.

Glance up into the icy sky
You'll see no swallows soaring by
(The cold discourages them to fly)--
Vacation.

Listen as the snow falls down
You'll hear no critters bustle about
No screeches, whispers, not a sound--
Permeation.

Yet even as snow crystals form
And animals slumber to stay warm,
The humans never halt their swarm--
Frustration.

I wonder as the chilly day
Ends early despite my pleas to stay:
Who are we to mess with nature's way?--
Tradition.

The great grizzled bear, in all his power
Knows its best to sleep through winter's shower
Of hellish freezing hour by hour--
Protection.

The tiniest insects--even them!
Have figured winter shall condemn
Agony surpassing even Eminem--
Cessation.

But we, as humans, are expected
To carry on our tasks selected,
Ignore the chill, freckles neglected--
Damnation.

I curse at those on beaches clad
In bikinis, warmed by boyfriend Brad
Sneer when some say, "Not so bad--"
Delusion.

The winter air invades my lungs,
Freezes my teeth, my tongue and gums,
Makes me jealous of William Hung--
Lucky-untalented-Asian-guy-Hollywood-invasion.

Why wear fur boots when sandals are better?
Why an embarrassing reindeer print sweater?
No more crap snow from the gods of the weather--
REVOLUTION!

I curl upon my couch, and then
I take a notebook, and a pen
And draw my magical summer den--
Imagination

The white blanket on the world will thaw
And creatures of the world withdraw
From their warm caves and stand in awe--
Celebration.

But humans do not have a clue,
Did not hide like the lower beasts do
We, like idiots, struggled through--
Realization.

Next winter, I shall grow brown hair
Crawl into some rocky lair
And sleep through winter, like a bear--
Evolution.

Second Place, and winner of an anti-winter mix CD is Arianne, who wrote this incredible piece of haiku that I now have memorized:

Winter Haiku
February child
Spawned when trampy December
Flashed January.

And because I couldn't resist this angsty piece by Josh, I am awarding another Second Place prize for this fun-to-say-out-loud gem:

Untitled
Numb noses,
Sick sweaters,
Slimy slush.

Truck's totalled,
Finger's froze
Grim and gray.

Windy wasteland,
Black, blecht, blah.

Winter whomps. 

Third Place, and winner of three of the magnets from my fridge is no other than my own mother, Linda, who has always had a knack with words:

I Hate Winter
I hate winter
Splits like splinters
Wreck my fingers
Frizz my hair

I hate winter
Falls are scary
Makes me wary
Instacare

I hate winter
Winds are chilling
Unfulfilling
Need a break

I hate winter
Foods too tempting
Fitness exempting
Pass the cake

In the Honorable Mention category, I have chosen this poem by Jennie W., which made me chuckle (and, boy, do I love to chuckle!):

Untitled Haiku
It may be Texas
But cold is all relative

And I am freezing

And this poem, by Angie, whose titled had me smiling with delight: 

Insert String of Obscenities Here
Scraping ice off the windshield
AGAIN,
Stupid @*#! winter.

Once again, thank you to everyone who participated. Winners, I will contact you by email to arrange shipping of your prizes.

Now, let's bring on the spring! 

Stunning Photographs Seen Here First!

Yesterday, I hired international photography superstar Ansel Adams to come and take some dramatic black and white photos of our house after Snowmageddon Round 2.

He named this one "Driveway Desolation."

And this one he titled, "Claustrophobic Mailbox."

Look for these stirring photos in an upcoming National Geographic and also for sale as oversized prints in those frame shops in your local mall.

In Lieu of a Chapter of My Book

I thought today was going to belong to me. The kids are back to school today after Snowmageddon Round 1. They'll be off tomorrow (and possibly Thursday and Friday) for Round 2. This morning I thought I was going to make some giant chocolate chip cookies and then write, write, write.

Instead, I forfeited my shower time for a trip to Wal-Mart to grab a few things for work and for Valentine's Day and a for meal I was asked to take to a friend who just gave birth. I need to make and deliver the meal before Snowmageddon Round 2 begins this afternoon.

Whenever I get asked to take a meal to someone I panic. I am not one of those people who has a standard recipe that I throw together at a moment's notice. It's like I have to consult the stars. I have to feel the right thing to make. Usually, I come up with an idea and I run it by Ryan who frowns and says, "I'm not sure other people like that as much as you do."

Thanks, honey.

Today the stars told me to make a platter of grilled burritos. They are easy to eat, reheat, and can be used as dog food if Ryan turns out to be right. I mean, really, is there a more versatile meal than that?

I've already made the giant chocolate chip cookies, which will be delivered with the burritos and a jar of salsa. At first I was sad at the thought of giving them up, but it's probably better that I don't keep them. I have unrighteous desires regarding them. I say I only want a tiny piece of one, but you know as well as I do that that statement would not pass any polygraph test. If you love something, give it away.

The beans are simmering on the stove. I've got the Food Network on, as I usually do while I cook. I hypothesize that I will become a better cook through osmosis by having it on; when I'm stirring and saute-ing and kneading, I will be subconsciously tutored by Paula Deen and Bobby Flay. I can't say I've got any proof to support this, but I'm sticking with my theory anyway. It can't hurt and my mom does it too, so I feel validated.

It's time to zhuzh the beans and mix them with the meat. I'll let them get to know each other while I shower and when I finish getting ready, I will wrap them in tortillas with some cheese and grill them the way my mom grilled them for me.

Today was supposed to belong to me, but it didn't. Tomorrow won't belong to me either. Tomorrow I will belong to my kids and the snow shovel and the sticky kitchen counters. It's okay, though. Writing feels good, but it feeds only me. Today I get to feed someone else. Or at least their dog.

Remember! Tomorrow is the deadline for Winter Angst Poetry. The competition is coming along nicely, so add your voice to the depressed, frigid chorus!

Three Things About Me In Six Words (Each)

1. I don't enforce bedtime on weekends.

2. I unapologetically enjoy a McDonald's hamburger.

3. Church cancelled feels like lottery won.

Will you tell me about yourself in six words?

And These Three Things? Terribly Critical Information

1. I am really good at ordering takeout. I guess you could call it a gift. I can do it on a large or small scale, for an entire office or a small family. I will remember to ask for that extra side of vinaigrette; I will make sure there are napkins and straws; and I'm not afraid to ask for extra beans and no cheese, even if I'm ordering a hamburger. Sadly, this gift is under-utilized right now.

2. Before the days of political correctness, I would have been catagorized as an "idiot" but now they have a special, softer name for me: "navigationally challenged." I was able to hide this character trait well enough while living in Utah, with its roads laid out neatly in a giant grid and towering mountain ranges practically flashing in neon, "THIS IS EAST! THIS IS EAST!" But now? Where the roads were designed by a psychotic toddler? I don't know where anything is, how to get there, and please don't expect me to guess how to get back. (Well, except for Target, but that's because I have a natural homing device that could lead me there with my eyes closed.) If you look closely at the bottom of my car, you'll see some fine print: This driver's ability to intentionally get anywhere is made possible by the good people of Garmin.

3. I can waterski on one leg, with the rope hooked on to my toe--another tragically under-utilized talent. (If somebody has photographic evidence of this, please send it to me.) (Especially if it's from when I was skinny.) And just in case you're wondering, the answer is yes, I could order takeout for the entire office while waterskiing on one leg with the rope hooked on my toe. You know, depending on the cell phone coverage.

In other news, I made buttermilk pancakes for the family this morning. I ate two and shoved one in Max's mouth. Christian declined, and Ryan rushed out the door to make it to an appointment. So, what I'm saying here is that I've got a lot of pancakes right now. Want one?

Three More Things You Must Know

1. I use a lot of exclamation points. I'm very liberal with them. Some people want to teach the world to sing, or buy the world a Coke, but I want to give the world an exclamation point. I don't do the "!!!!" thing and use them in multiples, but I tend to end a lot of sentences in a state of exuberance. Often, I have to go back over something I've written and de-exclaim part of it, so that people don't think I'm sniffing glue. I don't sniff glue. I drink Red Bull. I mean, I drink Red Bull!

2. I'm sort of a loner. I like people, and I love my friends, but at the end of the day I'm a loner. I try to fight it (a little bit, and if I feel like it). Part of the problem is that the three people I enjoy being around the most in this world live under my roof. (Unless I have PMS. In that case, I don't really like anybody and for the love of all things good, don't ask me where the screwdriver is. I DON'T KNOW! I AM NOT THE SCREWDRIVER'S KEEPER!) {ahem} Alright. Where were we?

3. (I also use a lot of parentheses.) (But I don't want to share those with the world.) (They are all for me and my witty asides.) But here, have an exclamation point!

Three Things You Really Need to Know About Me

1. I am a big fan of tween sitcoms and have been for years. My favorite tween shows are iCarly, The Wizards of Waverly Place, and Drake & Josh. If you think it's ridiculous, maybe you're not in touch with your inner tween like I am. I will have you know, however, that I am a distinguished tween show watcher. You will never catch me watching stupid shows like Hannah Montanna or The Suite Life of Zack & Cody. (You know, unless there's nothing else on.)

2. Every January and February, I go through a period of iTunes gluttony, downloading many, many songs. I think it's a subconscious way to battle winter. Ryan does not think this is cute, endearing, or necessary. We heard a song on a movie today and he said sarcastically, "Have you downloaded this song yet?" I said, "No, but I prolly will." It was a good song; I'm glad he pointed it out.

3. If I could have chosen my own talents, I would have been a singer/songwriter because I love the idea of crooning with my guitar in a shabby coffee shop waiting to be discovered. I also like titles with slashes in them. From now on I will refer to myself as a writer/eater.

What about you? What are three things I really need to know about you?

It's Back! Winter Angst Poetry Contest

If you're like me, you're on the verge of abandoning your current life to pursue homelessness on a tropical island. Winter is starting to get to me. You know, like psycho-logically.

How many more times can I peel layers of frozen skin off my tender eyelids?
How many more times can I climb inside the preheating oven for warmth without it affecting my health?
How many more times can I pull off the sweater over sweater over sweater with scarf and hoodie and parka and beanie look? With snowpants? (And that's before I head outside.)
How many more times can I throw things at my TV while watching The Real Housewives of Orange County?

In the past, I've found that one of the only ways to combat winter fatigue is with cathartic poetry. So, I'm bringing back the Winter Angst Poetry Competition! (Hold for applause.) Sharpen your pencils and your wit, and waste part of your day trying to amuse me!

The last time I held this competition, I was overwhelmed with the fantastic response--young and old alike filled my inbox with frigid, bitter writing that warmed my heart and made me feel not so alone, bonded together in a worthy cause: winter angst. Ready to play?

Here are the rules:
1. Send your original poetry to tiffany{at}wouldbewritersguild{dot}com. It can be any form of poetry you like—long, short, rhyme-y, moody, whatever (but remember that I’m partial to funny).
2. Make sure your poetry is ridden with hatred for winter. I don’t want to read about cute snowmen or happy, furry woodland creatures. Or the beauty of moonlight on fresh fallen snow. Blecht.
3. Seriously, don’t try to put some positive spin on all this frigid air. I’m warning you.
4. If you are a native of Florida, California, Arizona, or Hawaii you are automatically disqualified. (Well, okay, you’re not disqualified but you probably have no chance at seriously competing. Especially against a Canadian.)
5. Entries must be received by midnight, February 10th.
6. Please, no more than two entries per person.

And now for the prizes(!):

First prize: One TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLAR GIFT CARD TO TARGET! Wait—did I say “THOUSAND” right there? I meant “ORDINARY.”
Second prize: One super awesome Anti-Winter mix CD!
Third prize: Three magnets from my fridge! Woot! Woot!
Honorable mention: One mention in the post. A really honorable one.

Fine print: Judging will be completely subjective and based on my own whims.

So, take that, winter! Spread the word and let the poetry begin!