All right. All that other uplifting and heartfelt crap I wrote before belongs on the Domestic Goddess blog. This is the other blog. The secret blog. The painfully honest blog where I'm not trying to impress an audience, but rather get all my stifling unconscious bullshit spewed and purged from the system.
Girls rule. My girlfriends rule. I love hanging out with them and laughing and drinking and smoking and being who I really am without having to plaster a ersatz smile on my face and wax poetic about the virtues of my god-like husband and my genius child. I can say the word 'fuck' and they don't bat an eye, much less feel the need to run to their bishop with extra tithing for the month and thereafter give me a wide berth in the hallways at the kids' school. They understand that I am doofy about rabbits, love Erasure and all things British. They get that I have serious self esteem issues that press me to make a complete ass of myself trying to pick up cute boys in bars after I've had a martini or four. They brave sub-zero temperatures so I can get my nicky fix every hour on the hour, twice that if I'm drinking. They don't care that I have a fashion sense so bad it's nearly negative, that I will always wear impractical shoes, and that my living room is purple. They call me on my bullshit but love me anyway. I probably don't deserve them, but they keep coming back.
So there.
I'm tired today. Tami made me drink tequila last night, which can never lead to anything good. Tequila in my system generally leads to me doing incredibly stupid things and thinking that I am one bad motherfucker. It also makes me puke. Luckily T makes a margarita I can stomach. And Sara made me cry. Stupid Mamma Mia, anyway. I need to find my ABBA cd now.
Okay, that's about enough of the self-indulgent blogging for today. I need to fix a bad chapter full of florid language and obvious 'telling not showing' narrative. Ugh. I think I've lost my mojo on this book. Four years, 160 pages, 100K or so words and it all comes down to sweating the last two chapters. This sucks. I think reading Stephanie Meyer has thrown my voice off. Maybe I should read a few Stephen King/Richard Bachman books to restart the decent writing cells in my prefrontal cortex. They've been poisoned by LDS vampire crap.
Over and Out.
The Ballad of Daisy Crockett
9 years ago
Testing. Just testing, coz someone told me they were having trouble commenting on my blog. Totally not pathetically commenting on my own blog just so I have a comment....testing...one, tow...wine....
ReplyDeleteAin't blogging great? The venting, the unwarranted assumptions, the slagging friends and family without their knowledge... I've been wondering if I made a mistake letting my blog address out; it's just a matter of time until the wife finds it. And then all HELL will break loose, and I'll suddenly have to explain everything I say there. I hate that.
ReplyDeleteComments appear to be working for me.
I was having trouble, but being the techie I am, I figured a way anyhow. I have to switch to IE to post here.
ReplyDeletePppttthhhewww
You already know my views of language, so I wont go there. Plus I won't be paying extra tithing for reading your blog. (it's my choice, plus tithing has nothing to do with it)
How is being on the smoke wagon doing?
Hugs my friend
and I wont tell mom...
Greyacre: Yeah, that's why I've had to move over here. Everyone that I need to bitch occassionally about or who would get all wiggy reading some of my inner ponderings and take them personally know about the DG blog. I need some 'me' ranting. Sure, I could just go with a private journal, but where's the gratification in that? ;P
ReplyDeleteThanks R!
Pea: Yes. I do drop the f-bomb. I like it. I know you don't.
Still riding the wagon, but I think it needs new axles. Bumpy ride.
Thanks Pea!
I have only one thing to say: Don't make me come over there and kick your ass, ya pansy. Ya know, it is not only one sided. You do provide some benefit to us too. (Humor if nothing else.)
ReplyDelete