It’s clear that I’m not very smart.
Shit, I got myself drunk on almond extract for weeks before I realized that I was, in fact, doing so. I regularly walk into walls. I’m hopelessly convinced that I’m going to live my life married to men from television. I write a blog on the Internet.
But I do understand some things – not many, but still.
What follows is a list of things that continue to baffle me – keep me up all night, tossing and turning as I try to comprehend them.
0) Why Jimmy Wales didn’t realize that putting a picture of his minions directly under the title of the page was a bad fucking idea.
1) Why anyone still uses Internet Explorer.
1) Why Donald Trump’s hair doesn’t have it’s own reality show. I’d watch that shit.
2) Why The Fresh Beat Band ditched the cute redhead and replaced her with another not-as-cute redhead like kids are too stupid to notice that they are not the same person.
3) MySpace. It’s as bad as saying you still use your Friendster account. PS. this is mine: Myspace.com/hotterthanyourwife
5) Why are sausage links so much tastier than sausage patties?
8 ) Why is the word “patty” so vomit-inducing?
13) Why was the Homeland season finale so lackluster?
21) How did Glee go from being a fresh, snarky show to a very short LifeTime Movie of the Week?
34) Why do people walk around with their blue douche headsets in all of the time?
55) How orange can be both a color and a flavor while purple cannot. Purple should be a flavor, dammit!
89) Whatever happened to that gigantic Kool-Aid pitcher who was all, “OOOOOH YEAH?” Sidebar: I think I’m gonna be him for Halloween next year.
144) Why disco went out of style. Disco is for LIFE.
Okay, so Pranksters, your turn: what don’t YOU understand?
This part of year is always hardest for me.
I’d like to say I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, mostly because of the wicked acronym, but I don’t. My garden variety, un-cool acronymed depression mixes with the PTSD (pesticides and toxic substances division?) in a nice soupy paste of unhappiness.
Christmas, no matter how I try to play it off, is hard. Sure, I find joy in watching my children scamper about, ripping open presents and squealing in surprise at what lies beneath – that part is tops. New Years Eve almost always finds me near-tears for no fucking reason the whole day, until I wake on January 1, and feel, well, lighter. The elephant sitting squarely upon my chest is gone, as are the fifty pound weights attached to my neck.
I don’t know why this happens to me. But it does – every year.
After the holidays pass, and I am finally able to breathe again, it is time for my daughter’s birthday. My daughter. My daughter who will be three this year, and has not once had the birthday party I’ve wanted to give her. It is my fault – January 1, the anxiety takes over and I’m barely able to leave the house. I become a slave to it – the thoughts it gives me, “you’ve lost all your friends,” “no one will come to her party,” “you’re weak – you should be able to do it.”
Those thoughts beat at me until I relent, deciding upon a “quiet family party,” playing it off like that’s all I’ve actually wanted to do, anyway. I mean, she won’t remember it anyway, so why bother? She’s only (insert young age here).
What they – you – don’t know is that it’s not by choice. It’s never been a choice. If I could choose, it would be her birthday tomorrow, I could skip the month of January, only to wake up on January 28 to a perfectly executed party attended by those whom I love and who love me too (short list as it may be).
I decided, as I always do, that it’s time to get ready for that party – to finally do it. This was during the end of December, that awful week between Christmas and New Years. For a whole week, my resolve, it was strong.
Just yesterday, I realized that I didn’t have the addresses of many of those who I wanted to invite. And shit, it’s already January 3, and her party is in like 4 weeks. That’s not enough time. Maybe I shouldn’t do it. I should just throw her a nice quiet family party or take her for Mouse Pizza in the seventh circle of parental hell. I shouldn’t throw her a party. No one will come, anyway.
And shit – she won’t remember it anyway.
(Amelia’s drawing of a good guy being attacked by bad guys)
I felt that hopelessness, that despair, sink in – I’ve been here before and I’ve always chosen to listen to that asshole voice in my ear – no one WILL come. It’s pointless to throw a toddler a party. I’m weak.
Then I stopped.
Before I could spiral any more, I stopped myself, and went over to evite – y’know, those crappy email invites? Yeah, I never use those. I love stationary, and paper invitations and nice thick envelopes, and handmade cards (it’s the same reason I never send Christmas cards – I get overwhelmed by the beautiful ones I could be making and end up sending none at all) and fuck email invitations.
Within ten minutes, I had an invitation ready to send. Ten minutes after that, I’d sent it to ten people.
I cannot tell you, Pranksters, how proud of myself I am. I looked my demons in their eyes and told them to fuck the fuck off. I will throw my daughter a party and people will come. There will be a house full of people who love her, even if half my friends live scattered around the country.
For that day, I will insist that my demons wear party hats and serve punch. If they don’t like it? They can go back into my closet. Because that day, that day is for my daughter.
She will finally get the celebration I’ve wanted to give her for three long years.
The pink balloons – like my heart – will, at long last, fly.
*If you guys are local, (I’m in a suburb of Chicago), we’d love to have you – and not because she needs presents, but because she needs to meet so many of the people who love her. I mean it. Just send me your email address and I’ll send you the evite…if you promise not to judge me for it.
First, I wrote this about the New Year. You should read it.
So. That Meme. It kinda sucked. I know that. You know that. The guy down the block who doesn’t even know what Meme means knows that.
I’m sorta embarrassed I didn’t do this in the first place.
And to all of you who are type A enough to want to do one again? I’m sorry. Genuinely.
But here’s the Meme I wish I’d answered.
1) What does Meme mean?
I think it’s an ancient Latin term for “most annoying, self-centered survey on the planet.” Which is shockingly similar to the term “Aunt Becky.”
2) 2011 – Was it all you’d hoped it would be?
It was the year that WAS. I’m anxious (also frightened) to ring in 2012.
3) Did you watch the Royal Wedding?
Nope. I’m not into weddings. Although the hats, man, the hats were killer.
4) Where are your pants?
Pants are fucking bullshit.
5) Is Justin Bieber human or some sort of robot?
I’m altogether certain that Justin Bieber is a robot created from a hostile world to teach our tweens how to drive their parents absolutely bonkers.
6) If you had only one thing to wish for this coming year, what would it be?
I’ve thought a lot about resolutions (I’m thirty-fucking-one this year. I should fucking resolve something?) and I’ve come to this conclusion: I will resolve to not become Lil Wayne this year.
7) Would you call yourself a “social media maven?”
Those three words together are sorta like saying, “she has a good personality.” They’re a cleverly disguised insult.
8 ) If you had to take three things to a desert island (let’s assume you have ample food and water), what would they be?
John C. Mayer
9) If you had the ability to banish certain offenses to an island where they would be rehabilitated into being okay again, what would those offenses be?
“ALot” versus “A Lot.”
“Loose” instead of “Lose.”
Being John. C Mayer.
Using any corporate buzz words in a non-ironic way. See also: “action plan,” “deliverables,” “proactive,” “engaged.”
10) How do YOU think the air conditioner works?
Gnomes fanning large blocks of ice with over-sized ornamental fans.
11) Do you ACTUALLY think you can make money blogging?
I PAY to blog.
Nah, I think that those who were on the fence about traditional blogging or preferred some other medium (i.e. pictures) have gone to the microblogging platforms. I think those of us stubborn enough to stick around will be here until they pry our keyboards from our cold, dead hands.
13) If you could give one piece of advice to your younger self, what would it be?
There’s always a way. Find it. Keep finding it. Nothing turns out how you thought it would – so just roll with it, Baby.
P.S. You’re not a redhead. Quit trying to be one.
14) If you could’ve told yourself this time last year one thing, what would it be?
Billy Mays death will leave a gaping hole. Don’t try to fill it with the imprisoned ShamWow guy.
15) If you could have one Super Power, what would it be?
I’d be Aunt Becky, Maker of Coffee. I’d be able to make coffee without causing small fires.
16) If you could do one thing you can’t currently do, and do it well, what would it be?
I’d be an opera singer. No, seriously. I’ve been known to sheer paint off walls with my awesomely awful voice.
17) What surprises you about yourself?
I remain shocked that I have ditched my nursing degree, popped out two more crotch parasites and started to live my life on the Internet. Also: the whole non-profit thing seems weird to me.
18) What was your favorite blog post/tweet of the past year?
“Look out below, motherfuckers!” – The Twitter.
19) Do you REALLY think “Purple Should Be A Flavor?”
I hear there is purple vodka. I think this is probably the single best thing ever (altho I’ve not tried it, which seems like a motherfucking sin.)
20) If you could make one outlandish wish for 2012, what would it be?
I’d go to Vegas, be married by a creepy drive-thru Elvis, and spend the next several months in the desert, recreating Fear and Loathing.
Alternately, I’d go on a fucking epic road trip with a friend or five.
Once you Type A people out there complete this, go ahead and linkage on up! I even put up a widget. WINNING!