10 days went by without me posting, and you know what that means, Mah Peepull! It’s time for another heapin’ helpin’ of Blog Stew!
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I got The Plague. As you can see, I lived to tell the tale. It was a very close call.
While I didn’t get the tummy part of it (Thank GOD!) I did get the body ache part, and I’ve never had it so bad, EVER. I stayed in bed for almost an entire day straight and then moved very carefully for the next couple days. I managed to not share The Plague with Hunky and boys.
I did, however, manage to generate about 7 quarts of snot. (I may tend toward hyperbole. Just sayin’.)
I can be a huge baby when I get sick. If I have the strength, I contact close friends to say goodbye and if applicable, reveal what I’m bequeathing them with in my will.
I just realized that I may have already told you this. It was The Plague followed by the hotel weekend. Did I already tell you this or did I just post it as a status update on Twitter/Facebook?
I have no idea what I’m doing. Someone should take away my blogging license.
Oh, look! Something shiny!!!
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I’ve been a lot more active on Twitter lately. I think it may be true what they say about tweeting something and wasting a good idea for a post. I’ve caught myself a few times tweeting something that I really should flesh out into a decent post.
If you tweet it and don’t post it… using that one good idea to put a tweet out there that has decent substance gets more attention on Twitter and goes a lot farther in developing relationships and finding readers.
If you tweet it and also post it… I think it could show bad form to tweet something and then also use that idea to post. I’m not judging people who do that, I’m just saying it doesn’t feel right to me. I may change my mind; it’s not out of the realm of possibilility. After all, bumper stickers and tshirts all over the world assure me that it’s my right as a woman. Oh, another downer: If you do both, it shows up multiple times in feeds like FriendFeed, Buzz, Seesmic, etc and you run the risk of irritating people and having them unsubscribe.
I guess what I’m saying is… it’s a trade off.
And I may have put way too much thought into this.
• • •
A friend at work just got a new MP3 player and was asking if I would put some of my music on his player. Sure, no problem, right? Right. Actually, for a change, it worked the way it was supposed to. Amazingly. He gave me some money and I downloaded a couple albums for him from iTunes, and I didn’t even have to burn them onto a CD and re-import into iTunes to get the protected files to work on his player. I just plugged it in, drag-n-dropped them onto the player that mounted onto my desktop, and voila! He had tunage. I love my Mac. LOVE. LOVE.
The only problem, and it wasn’t a big one, was when he wanted a couple songs that iTunes didn’t carry. See, I was one of those freaks that was downloading a much as humanly, or more accurately, computer-ly possible the last four hours that Napster was up. Then, scared off by the press about people getting fined thousands of dollars, I quit. But when I couldn’t get him the music he wanted on iTunes, I went looking for it. And I may or may not have gone a little nuts looking on Billboard charts for one hit wonders from the 70s 80s and 90s. I may or may not have acquired such greats as Feel Like Makin’ Love, Shake Your Groove Thang, Rock Me Amadeus, Too Shy, Sledgehammer, and West End Girls as well as around 250 others. You know, I think I’ll just leave it at that so I don’t incriminate myself any further. Both in the music taste department, and the downloading music source department.
I fear it’s too late; you’ve lost respect for me already. I don’t blame you. I judge me.
And I’ll be rockin’ my air guitar along to Pour Some Sugar On Me as I do it.
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I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading at work in the last couple months.
Last week I finished The Runaway Quilt which was #4 in a series by Jennifer Chiaverini. I started that series that inspired me to do the sampler quilt I started in July. (That was the ugliest, messiest sentence in the history of EVER.)
I just finished My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Piccoult. For the most part, it was a good read. There’s a lot of the story that reads almost poetically; I love the way she used some similes to illustrate small details. But there were other sections that read a little to cliche-ish-ly. Shut up. That’s totally a word.
• • •
I had a dream that I called my local Apple guy to get my beloved iMac, my Edgrr, my five-and-a-half-year-old buddy, out of the hospital. My guy said Edgrr needed a new logic board (that much is really true) and that Apple had a new program to trade in old Macs for new Macs and that Edgrr’s trade in value was currently $1655.
What? I told you it was a dream. I started with, I had a dream. Did you think I was doing my MLK impression? I don’t have one of those.
Related: I want an iPad. The way you want a drink of ice water after you’ve been tanning next to the pool for six hours. In Arizona. In a desert.
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I’ve been kicking around the idea of starting another blog with no identifying information so I can tell some of the stories that I come across at the shelter. You would be inspired by some some of the people that come through here. I never get tired of listening when they want to tell me where they’ve been, what they’ve learned, and where they want to go.
Well, almost never.
Some people just talk too freaking much.
• • •
I guess I SOLD OUT TO THE MAN or whatever. Over there on the sidebar is an Amazon dealio with some of my favorite books. If you click over to Amazon from there and buy something, I get, I don’t know, something. Probably enough to fulfill my lifelong dream of stopping at the gumball machine on the way out of the grocery store. And getting two gumballs. If you clicked over and bought, like, a car or something like that, I might be able to get a temporary tattoo of a dragon with a rose in its mouth.
I signed up for Google AdSense but I haven’t exactly figured out how it works yet, so you have a while before you have to ignore the Google Ad boxes. Mostly, I just signed up because Blissfully Domestic (Oh, why, yes, I DOOO write for Blissfully Domestic!) said I should. Something about getting revenue from the clicks on my articles over there. So you can blame all this AdSense nonsense on them. Or me. Whatever. *shrugs*
As long as you’re willing to listen to me blather on and on, I might as well take the clicks from the search engine traffic, right?
That’s the sound of me searching my soul.
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I’ve talked about this before, but Oh Em Gee, it drives the proofreading portion of my brain to distress when I see contractions used incorrectly. IT’S = It Is. ITS = possessive. Sound it out.
This concludes the Blogging Public Service Announcement. (Paid for by the Typologically Anal Retentive Association With A Stick Up Their Big Old Butt.)
• • •
About six weeks ago, I wrote channelled my inner angst-y teenager and blubbered about my disappointment with the blogosphere.
I sucked it up and realized I CAN’T CHANGE THE BLOGOSPHERE.
Wow. What a concept. Brilliant, Dory.
But I can change myself. I sat back and thought about what I could change about the situation.
This is what I came up with.
I’m mad at the blogosphere, so obviously I need more blogosphere.
I told you, um, duh. See also: Sarcasm above, i.e. Brilliant, Dory.
Anyway, I went and got more blogosphere. I went through a very popular, big-girl-blogger’s followers and one by one, added people and doubled who I was following just to see who would follow me back so I could meet some new twits twats tweeple.
Hi, new tweeple! *waves*
I like the blogosphere again.
• • •
I guess that’s about all the damage I can do this time.
Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Word.