I’d been off and on The Twitter all day on Friday, rather than out and about pepper-spraying people to get a wicked deal on a TV set or some diamond earrings thanks to a particularly bad gravy hangover (Xanax Gravy, you should try it!). Whenever I’m on The Twitter, I pay a little bit of attention to the Trending Topics on the sidebar. Mostly because I want to know if the Zombie Apocalypse is starting but also because The Twitter feeds me my news.
Well, I saw that Nickelback was trending.
Fine, I said, as I trundled off to get buffalo wings with The Daver. Whatever. Prolly a new album or something.
Over dinner, we began talking about (oddly) Nickelback, who happened to be playing at the Lions versus Packers football game. I figured that was reason enough for their appearance upon the Twitter, but no.
“It turns out,” Daver said, “That Nickelback is getting a fuckton of backlash for their appearance at the game.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows as I slowly devoured buffalo wings, which are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.
“Yeah,” he replied. “So their record company released a statement saying that they’d sold 5 million copies of their latest album and we should all shut our whore mouths.”
This got me thinking (a semi-dangerous pursuit, as we all know).
5 million albums.
Presumably bought by 5 million people.
So I promptly threw out a tweet asking about it:
I wasn’t being glib – I was genuinely curious.
Because even as I said it, I realized I didn’t know a SINGLE Nickelback song. Not one. I got on my i(can’t)Phone and popped onto YouTube (we SO live in the future, y’all). I simply threw “Nickelback” into the search box, figuring their biggest hits would pop up first and I could be all OH so it’s THOSE guys. Got it. The ire, I get! Or, people should shut their fucking whore mouths, this song rules!
Didn’t find a single song I recognized.
So I decided iTunes would never let me down and clicked over there through my i(suck at making calls from my)Phone.
Not a fucking thing I recognized. All I was able to ascertain was this:
1) Nickelback songs sound the same.
B) They’re Canadians.
So I waited for The Twitter to enlighten me.
Hrms. She’s Canadian. Okay, fair enough.
Now THAT is a fucking good point!
(Altho, my mom would NEVER buy 5 million copies of anything I sang. Which is fair)
AH-HA! My arch-nemesis! John C. Mayer would do ANYTHING to fuck mah shit up.
The Twitter’s consensus was that Canadians and Nickelback’s Moms bought all of the CD’s. But not ALL Canadians (I think I got unfollowed by 30 or so Canadians for using that blanket statement), I quickly learned.
That leaves wondering: who DOES buy Nickelback CD’s?
This is where you get to help me, Pranksters. Survey below should clear it up. Also: results are anonymous, so I won’t laugh and point if you say you have bought the CD’s.
Dear Aunt Becky,
I drop in on your site from time to time, but usually from an aggregate site that has become toywithme.com. Anyway, my question is, what happened to the blogger whose picture showed her in old-fashioned curlers? I can’t remember her name and for some reason this is driving me crazy.
Thanks for your help and for your exquisite sense of humor.
Well, Prankster, thank YOU for the kind words! They’re much appreciated!
Evening Aunt Becky!
While checking out the questions and comments on BnB to comfort and convince myself that I’m not the only one who doesn’t always really get motherhood it popped up with a link to your blog in the side bar! I was pleased to see it as I’ve been enjoying your blog for ages and hope others have been clicking through.
Dear Prankster Laura,
While I thank you kindly for your kind words and the referrer, I’m afraid that I have no idea what BnB is. In fact, I’ve spent a good deal of time trying to figure it out. And yes, yes, I AM compulsive.
Does it mean?
Bed and Breakfast?
Bread and Butter?
Banana Nut Bread?
Black and Blue?
Bad News Bears?
I simply do not know. So, Prankster Laura (or others), what, pray tell, does BnB mean?
P.S. I like to imagine it to mean “Black and Blue.”
Dear Aunt Becky,
I have no question but go have a look at what I found. Bob Ross finger Puppets
Dear Prankster Tonya,
O.M.G. How have I not SEEN these before? I feel like my whole life has been a lie!
P.S. I require these for Christmas to be happy.
Hello, Aunt Becky!
Here’s a faithful viewer of your awesomesauce blog, asking for advice. I’m an 18-year-old girl, and I have a mother who’s been through a helluva though life. Born to a poor family, many of her best friends dying when they were just teens, two stillborn children and a divorce, just to name a few. She’s ultimately the strongest woman I’ve ever known. However, she never talks about those happenings in her past – only offhand mentions and some things I remember her telling me when I was just a tiny crotch parasite, asking everything about my mommy that could ever enter my tiny mind.
I would like to be as open with her as possible – after the divorce, the two of us lived together for 8 years, and despite living in different cities these days, we’re really really close – and would also like her to be able to talk about her past with me. Even though we’re so close, I sometimes get the feeling that I don’t know my mother at all – all we talk about is my life, my tiny problems. I’m not sure what I’m actually even asking for, just maybe some advice, on how to deal with her? How to bring up difficult subjects? Or should I never mention them at all?
Ever so thankful,
I hope that my daughter will grow to be as wonderful a woman as you. Your mother is beyond lucky to have such a lovely daughter as you. I just had to say that to start off with, or I might burst from your awesomeness.
Honestly, I’m getting teary.
Anyway, enough about my hormones. I’d simply go ahead and ASK your mother about those subjects. Tell her what you just told me: that you’d like to know more about her and feel like you’re as awesome a daughter as you (obviously) are. I’m sure that even if she doesn’t wish to talk about it, she’ll appreciate knowing that her daughter remembered her stories. That way the door is open for her to talk about herself, too.
See, Moms, well, we’re used to NOT talking about ourselves very candidly to our children. We can’t be effective parents if we’re always whining about our own shit. It’s not that I don’t want my kids to know me – even the ugly bits – but I think it’s easy to be caught in the rut of “my child is more important than I am.” Because that’s what parenthood is – putting someone else ahead of your needs most of the time.
But I think if you tell her what you told me, she’ll not only be touched, but know what an amazing job she’s done as a parent. Because she has.
Love to you,
Pranksters, please fill in wherever I left off. Especially the part about “BnB.” Seriously, I’ve been up all night long (alll niiiiiggghhhht longggggg) trying to figure it out.
It’s been a weird year. Probably weirder than I’ve been able to properly impart upon you, my Pranksters, because, well, some things are not for Internet Consumption (until they are, of course).
It’s been a year of loss.
I’ve lost two beloved family members to the great big gig in the sky. I’ve lost a relationship with another. Countless friendships have been disbanded.
Some of these things are my fault. Not, of course, the dead people. I leave the killing to my Television Husband Dexter. And I SWEAR I have an alibi – just ask The Twitter.
(sidebar: you know you have good friends when they’ll tell the world that OF COURSE they were with you that one night).
But in the midst of the chaos and sadness surrounding the losses, The Universe has reminded me time and time again that from struggles come redemption. And from redemption comes new beginnings – a new life.
Perhaps I will not walk out of this year the same person who walked in, but, let’s be honest, why would I want to?
So today, on American Thanksgiving, instead of bemoaning what no longer is, I am thanksful for what has become. If we can only exist in this moment, well, this moment is pretty fucking beautiful.
Instead of stuffing myself with turkey and green bean casserole with the kids, I will instead put up the Christmas lights, warble Christmas carols, and, most of all, count my blessings.
One by motherfucking one.
0) I am thankful I do not own a Team Edward or Team Jacob shirt.
1) Likewise, I’m thankful (and slightly superior) that I’ve never seen, read, or been in the same room with one of the Twilight series.
1) I’m thankful for Strawberry Slim Fast and Uncrustables, without which I would’ve gone hungry. Or gotten scurvy. Or both.
2) I’m thankful that Britney’s new album is (quite possibly) her best. Also: she follows me on The Twitter. Along with 80,000 other people. I just KNOW she’s reading my tweets!
3) My kids, who remind me that one should never, ever take life too seriously, and that I’m never too old for a good poo joke.
5) My friends, my Pranksters, who remind me that it’s okay to be weak sometimes. Who remind me that – no matter what – they will catch me when I fall. Even if I fall hard.
8) I’m thankful that I’ve been able to write – and freelance – every single day of the year. Maybe it’s not a book (turns out, I’m kinda chickenshit about the whole book thing) , but maybe that doesn’t matter.
13) I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to know and love those who I have lost. They have each taught me something, and for that I am grateful.
21) I’m thankful to have imported someone to make me coffee. Because it’s kinda pathetic to admit to the world that you cannot make a cup of coffee. It’s much easier to take credit for someone else’s work.
34) Most of all, I’m thankful for this picture:
Happy, Happy Thanksgiving, Pranksters.
P.S. What are you thankful for?