Or, Stuff That Would Have Gone On Twitter If I Didn't Lose Interest After Reaching 141 Characters
Or, Stuff That's Been Sitting In My Drafts Folder Waiting For Me To Remember What The Hell I Was Talking About
Or, I Made You A Blog Entry, But It Sucks
We have three separate garbage/recycling pick-ups on Wednesday morning, which means by 7 am I have had three separate panic attacks over THE BUS THE BUS OH SHIT WE'VE MISSED THE BUS.
It's gotten so bad that I can actually be looking out the window, starting directly AT a garbage/recycling truck and still get all twisty-in-the-heart-region at the sound of the engine and squealing brakes.
Pavlov's School Bus, you guys. WTF.
Speaking of the school bus, it shows up close to a half-hour late on rainy mornings. Because, you know, it's raining and wet and therefore we are ALL GOING TO DIE IN OUR CARS. But the return bus shows up perfectly on time, to the minute, no matter what. Now, I don't mean to suggest that I feel a little cheated by that lost half hour of zoning out over my coffee, or that I sometimes resent the efficiency of that second bus...except well. Yes. That's exactly what I mean to suggest. I'm sorry, I don't know where else I thought I could go with that story.
I am unhealthily obsessed with Fake Blogs. The people who just make shit straight up, their entire identity and life story. The total full-on trolls. I never seem to hear about them until after they've been exposed, but nevertheless I am compelled to go back and read every. word. of the drama and detective work.
You know, the people who are all, "Look at this picture of a doll/someone else's kid/child model from a diaper package that I'm passing off as my critically ill baby!"
The Muchausen by Internet people who write about their brave battle with seven kinds of cancer AND swine flu AND being the Real Hero, while using stolen photos of their hotter, thinner friend.
The housewives who pretend to be gay men, using everything they learned about gay culture from Brokeback Mountain, or who create a zillion sockpuppets and go completely Machiavellian just to become Internet Famous in a very specific segment of Livejournal fanfiction.
The teenage girls who write about being a SAHM to twins and quadruplets and sextuplets -- all totally not from IVF but from JESUS and they are all girls and identical and their names are Kaylaynia Devion Brintley Kamrie Brialynne Faith Hope Peace Godina Phoenix Ecetera. (That last one is pronounced ma-KEN-zee, of course.)
Seriously, I freaking love that shit. I mean, I really do feel for people who get taken in, and get their emotions and wallets toyed with, or have their photos or writing stolen (I've been there, and it's annoying as hell). I just...man. It's so awesome when the shit hits the fan and the person gets caught and panics and posts non-apologies for awhile before bahbleeting everything, but OF COURSE everybody swoops in and digs all the lies out of Google's cache and is all TEH CRAZY, LET ME SHOW YOU IT. IS SWEET JUSTICE TIMEZ NAO.
I eat it up, I love it so. Don't ever adjust your meds, Internet.
Let's see. What else.
The Mighty Zah is taking his Scrunchy Face to new levels, meaning he now smiles so hard that his eyes close and he bumps into things. I keep trying to get a picture of it but the sight of our camera still brings out the Serious Baby in him, so all I end up with are more photos of him giving me the stinkeye.
So not amused. At all. Not even a little. Now take this stupid crown off, you've dressed me like a convict again and a glittery shiny 99-cent crown from the party store doesn't even make sense, much like the rest of this entry.