Thursday, December 17, 2009

Excuse me, Has any one seen my Christmas spirit? Its Vodka shaped with some Ice?

Bahumbuggery is not for me.

I like Christmas.
I like the lights, I like the music, I like the presents,
I like the food.
I like the Santas, I like the reindeer,
I like the baby Jesus and his brood,
I like being with the family, I like the fires, I like the snow,
I like the jingling in the mall,
I like the mistletoe.
I like the holiday season where you’re all warm and happy and plump!
But if I like all of it so much, why am I such a grump?

For reals. I’ve got a stress monkey on my back trying to force myself to get everything in my life in perfect order before Christmas so I can enjoy the holidays.


You heard me, I’m stressing myself out, over making sure I get things done so that I can relax and enjoy myself.

Yes yes, I’m retarded.

Go here, get this, spend that, pick up this, send that, wrap this, clean that, decorate this, bake that.

Its ridiculous, its stressful and its starting to show.

I’ve been snapping at the husband.

I’m not talking I just washed the floor and he walked across it in muddy boots kind of justifiable snapping.

No no. Full on Crazy wife kind of shit.

Crazy Wife: Why is this heater plugged in, in the garage?

Husband: because its 40 below and you were worried about the dogs freezing so I put an extra heater in there so we wouldn’t have to leave them in the house to wreck your decorations.

CW: That heater sucks the power like no bodys business, the only thing that it is accomplishing is to flush our money down the toilet! Why would you do something like that when we are trying to save money??!!!

Okay, maybe not exactly those words,(probably many more than those) but I was in another state so I don’t remember exactly what I said about his nice idea to warm the garage thus quelling my fears for our dogs and our decorations all in one fell swoop. I do know whatever I said was ridiculous especially since the conversation took place with me back lit by the roughly 400 Christmas lights I have strewn around the main floor.

That single heater must be unplugged, but these Christmas lights will twinkle Dammit!

Today it was the milk.

There wasn’t enough left for two bowls of cereal, so instead I decided we could each share what was left, and eat toast or a bagel or waffle or something.

You’ll note I said I decided this, not I discussed this with the husband.

So I made a bagel. The husband came into the kitchen, saw the milk situation, saw me eating the bagel, and figured he was good to go to have cereal with the last of the milk, you know, since I was already eating and all.

CW: “I was going to HAVE some of that!!!!”

H: Sighs audibly, puts the Milk back in the fridge, makes a clearly grumpy why the hell do you want to drink the milk I’m trying to use to eat breakfast facial expression and says “Fine, Have some”

CW: well not if you’re going to be all GROUCHY about it!! I was just trying to have us share the milk you know!!!

Oh, you think maybe I’m joking a little bit? Nope, nuhuhn, I think maybe he’s only speaking to me right now because I’ll lose my mind and yell about him not speaking to me if he stops!

I’m actually starting to think if I don’t find my happy place soon my grumpy place isn’t going to have a husband in it to yell at!

So tonight I will buy milk, and a bottle of wine.
I will relax with my husband and stare at my lights and pet my warm dogs and take a deep relaxing breath.

Then tomorrow I will lose my mind all over again before my Parents arrive… on Saturday?

What?? I thought they weren’t coming till Sunday!??

Maybe I’ll skip the Milk and buy two bottles of wine.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009


Oh I had a fucking morning let me tell you!! Some assfuck douchebag cunt face scared the ever loving shit out of me this morning and is all self righteous and indignant about it now and I’m just fucking fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuming with impotent rage.

HEY RAGEY!! Get in here!

So I drive to work down a road where at the lights, the road splits into two lanes. One lane is for people to turn right, the other is for people to go straight and turn left. When traffic is backed up, I will drive along in what should be a lane and that eventually turns into the right turning lane at the light. Everyone does this. I’m turning right waaaaaaay up there, why the hell should I wait waaaaaay back here for traffic to go straight or turn left.

So I did that this morning. I eeeked around some people and drove on up, I didn’t go fast, I wasn’t unsafe, just getting to work. I get to the light, and there are two cars in front of me. I look in my rearview and the aforementioned assfuck is barreling down on me. Now it’s minus 36 this morning and tires don’t work so shit hot in minus 36 so I get VERY concerned that assfuck is going to hit me. So I crank my wheels to the right and move forward (hitting the curb) hoping he doesn’t slam into me. He cranks it left and gets stopped. Phew… I think.

Nay nay.

Assfuck leaps out of his vehicle and comes running at my vehicle. You know fight or flight? Ya, well that kicked in right about then and let me tell you people for me its flight all the fucking way!

I don’t know who this douche is or what I did to ruin his fucking morning but I want to get away from him and I want to do it NOW.

Luckily, the light turns green and I start to drive. Not fast enough though and assfuck catches the back of my car and punches my side rear window. So hard, and in minus 36, that I thought it broke. I turn and just drive, Assfuck runs back to his truck and turns behind me.

Now normally I pride myself on being a strong woman. I’m tough, I clearly have a mouth on me, I feel able to verbally defend myself and I’m not exactly a skinny bitch so I do usually pack some intimidation, not that I’m ever in a circumstance to need to intimidate but you know.

Today though, today I crumpled into a ball of tears, whipped out my phone and called the husband shrieking and hyperventilating. “some assfuck is trying to kill me!!!” . Now I’m on the phone with husband, who of course due to my state is VERY concerned. I am driving and Assfuck is still on my tail. He pulls up beside me at a light, his lane moves faster and I think, thank goodness, he’s going away. I need his lane so I pull in behind him. He stops dead at a green light and opens his door again.

I freak out. I scream into the phone and then drive around and right into another red light. I am in the wrong lane to get where I need to go and assfuck is right behind me. I’m hyperventilating explaining to husband the company logo on assfucks vehicle, I’m describing the vehicle and freaking right out.

Green light.

We drive ahead, I turn off into a mall, he keeps going. I calm down…and then decide NUHUHN assfuck!! Suddenly the tough chick in me started to get her head back out of the covers so I follow him until I’m sure he has turned into the business logo I saw on his truck. All the bravado left me then, and I tell husband where assfuck went and then I bitch and moan to husband all the way to my work and say should I call there or what?

Ominous…dark…angry husband voice comes out of my phone and says, “I don’t think that will be necessary… I’ll call you back.”

Unfortunately for Husband and I we are responsible adults and it wasn’t a movie so he did not just walk in the door and beat the ever loving fuck out of the guy…although he really really wanted to, and I really really wanted him to.

He talked to him, and assfuck lied and lied and lied some more. Did you know I almost hit some kids and he was clearly just trying to calmly tap on my window to make me aware of my poor driving? Did you know I romped a curb and drove on it the whole way and assfuck can show you my wheel tracks?

Assfuck I hate you. I don’t want to hate but I hate you and your self righteous lying bullshit. Fuck you for scaring me half to death, fuck you for not realizing that even if I had somehow broke the law, you attempting to “inform” me of that caused you to break even more laws than me. Fuck you for not shaking in your boots and for not realizing that the only thing between your face and my husbands fist was societal conventions.

Fuck you for making me feel impotent rage all day.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

You've GOT to be Shitting me!

I haven't been on here to blog in 5 whole days? Where did 5 days go and why isn't it the weekend yet?

So many fantastical things to write about occurred over 5 days! I should write about those things!!

But I won’t.

Instead I will write about the thing that is most present on my mind at this exact moment. That is that I am currently covered in coffee.

I’m not talking a little spill on my pants, or a drip on my shirt. No, no. Head to toe people… Head to Fucking Toe.

So, as I previously mentioned, I am notoriously late for work. SO often in fact that it is a running joke with, well let’s be real here, almost everyone I know. So, I am trying to get up earlier because recently it has gotten worse. I have consistently been between 15 to 30 minutes late for work every morning for the last two weeks,  (okay month an a half). Recently I’ve been thinking, I gotta make a change here, I mean, I used to make it on time at least twice a week! So last night I set my alarm a half hour early, and on top of that the husband has to get up earlier this morning. I DID IT!  I got up early, and was out of the house in time to get coffee AND be 30 minutes EARLY for work.


Soooooooo drive through chick hands me a steaming cup of coffee which I pull into the vehicle where the lid on the cup promptly POPS THE FUCK OFF. This ruins the structural integrity of the cup, thereby causing my hand to squeeze the cup together, causing a liquid surge upwards…and outwards. Imagine if you will, a fountain of coffee between me and my steering wheel.  It probably would have been quite pretty, and damn funny had I instead been standing outside the vehicle, at say, the drive through window.  To her credit the chick did not laugh. While, because it happened to me I was nine kinds of mad, I can't say in her position that I would have been able to hold in belly rolls of laughter. 

There is now coffee: On the Steering wheel; on the floor; on the passenger seat; on the gear shift; IN the gearshift; in a pool in the cup holders; on the floor mats; on the dash; in my hair; all over the front of my coat; up my coat sleeve to a borrowed white shirt, (psst- you didn’t want this one back did you?); all over my right leg; on my shoes; even on my socks. I haven’t been to the bathroom to check my underwear yet but I wouldn’t be shocked to find coffee.

Wait a minute you say, you are coffee drenched and still went to work?


You think I’m going to let coffee stop me from getting to work EARLY???

NUH-UN people! I was NOT going home to change only to end up at work just as late as ever!!!

So here I am, coffee drenched clothes slowly drying, sipping my replacement coffee, writing this blog as I wait for my work to process (had throw that in there, my accountant thinks I’m slacking) while I repeat a mantra to myself, thedaywillgetbetterthedaywillgetbetterthedaywillgetbetter. 

I think I am doing quite well, taking the high road, picking myself up, dusting off the coffee and saying, screw you ON TIME!  You're not gonna get me down!  A coffee explosion will not force my head back under the covers.  I will continue to try and beat you, I will continue to try to be on time or early... Even if I have to wear coffee to do so!

Thursday, December 03, 2009

What a Great Night

So I had a plan for a blog today, I titled it "Speaking of Receptionists" and it was about the incompotence of the Receptionist in my office. I had it started and everything, and she really is spectacularly stupid.

Then, I came home. We were supposed to go to friends house for dinner. We were going out because of the earlier GE bitchfest regarding the fucked fridge. The Husband had taken it apart and worked on fixing it up and in doing so took out all the shelves so that it would defrost easier.

Dinner plans changed, Friend and that Kid decide to come to our place. No big deal, I'll just put the shelves back in the fridge so we can cook.

I put the top shelf in first, then thought, this is dumb. I should start at the bottom, so that I make sure they are spaced properly.

I take the vegetable drawers out of the bottom shelf and lift it up.

Doing so I smash my hand on something, causing it to not hold on properly. No big deal again, I get a better grip on it, rolling it into my arms.

Hey guess what? That glass on the bottom shelf is not actually attached to the plastic shelving parts....

Did you know that when tempered glass hits a tile floor EXACTLY on the corner it shatters?

Fucking Shatters. 7 or 8 more expletives shatters.

Finding glass over 10 feet away, shatters.

Should have gone to Friends for dinner...

Should have called a repair man...

Fuckin Fridge.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009


Yesterday I went to the Chiropractor and was greeted by a plump woman sitting behind a fancy plaque that says… Receptionist.

The Receptionist, lets call her “Miriam”,since that’s her name, says hello to me, hands me my regular treatment card and a new fancy bright orange laminated piece of paper. She then points and says “go ahead to room 2 or 3, whichever one he isn’t in”.

As I walk down the hall, hoping not to pick the wrong room and interrupt someone, I read the fancy orange paper. It says: “Help the doctor run on time” and then has the following list of things I need to do to help my chiropractor:

1. Turn off your cell phone- Okay no problemo, an understandable request and one I am familiar with at a variety of offices.

2. Empty Your Pockets and Remove Your Belt- also a completely reasonable request. The man twists and pushes on you, if you have keys in your pocket there is the real potential you could sever your femoral artery.

3. Place Treatment Card in Clip Outside of Exam Room This one gave me pause. At this particular office they have clips, rather than bins, that your file/card goes in. The doctor picks up the card before he enters so he can be “ready” to see you. In my general practitioners’ office, before they went to computers, this file was placed there by the nurse/receptionist. They usually put that there when they walked me to the exam room.

4. Change the Paper Sheet on the Exam Table- Another incredulous pause since, again, this is a job that, in normal doctors offices, is done by the same person who puts your card in the clip.

5. Lie on the Exam Table on Your Back and Wait for the Doctor. Now this is just ridiculous. The man is a chiropractor, he never wants you to be on your back when he gets in the room. He needs to examine you first and if you are on your back you are lying on the exact body part he needs to see!

So I read my list and I think about the tasks I’m being asked to perform. I think about the request at the front door asking me to remove my shoes when I enter in order to keep the carpets clean. I think about the sign in the waiting room asking me to place all magazines back in the bin I got them from to help keep the place tidy. I think about my new bright shiny orange laminated list and I wonder aloud, what exactly does this bitch DO?

Well, lets see: She answers the phone, which I have never heard ring but know it must because I call there to make appointments. While I can’t speak for all his patients, whenever I call, she usually manages to answer with “Doctors Office” but has, in the past, answered with “Hi there”.

She books appointments… more or less. I have only been booked at the same time as someone else twice. A minor detail she did not realize until we both showed up, and a fact that caused her to exclaim, “Darn it! Now he’ll be behind and we’ll be here late, again”

She hands me my treatment card, and takes it back from me after my treatment. I have to say it has almost always been my card! The one time it was someone else’s card barely deserves mentioning!

She tells me roughly what room to go to and uses her pudgy little finger to point in the only possible direction for you to go from her desk. On this I do have to point out that she is usually wrong. I’m not trying to be nit picky here but there has never, not once, been a time when she has said “room 3” and room 3 has been empty.

Finally, after my treatment, she is ready and waiting to take my payment. This is a feat she seems to be able to accomplish without complication.

On this particular day I was also presented with the new fee schedule. This of course caused me to note that now, not only am I doing more of this dumb bitches job, but I’m also paying more to do it!

Now I don’t want to be mistaken here, I am perfectly capable of putting my card in the clip and changing the paper sheet on the exam bed. These are not difficult tasks, hence why, maybe it wouldn’t be such a stretch to think that they would be done by the lump sitting at the front door? I am paying for this service, should I just crack my back hand you some cash and be done with it?

I have to think maybe Miriam does not know her job description? Or Does she know it but is choosing to roundly ignore the shit out of it? Or maybe it’s me? Perhaps I am misunderstanding the role of a receptionist? Maybe she shouldn’t walk me to the room, change the paper sheet and put my card in the clip! Maybe she is already doing far more than she expects!

Maybe the next time I call for an appointment, there will be a recorded message asking me to physically come to the building where there will be a sign up sheet on the door and I can book my own appointment. I could rifle through the treatment cards until I find my own and then randomly choose a room to go in. After the treatment I could run my own debit card through the machine and staple the receipt myself. On my way out the door I could tell Miriam to have a great day, hopefully not interrupting her too much while she works away polishing up her fancy Receptionist plaque.

All in all it would be a pretty efficient system. You won't catch me suggesting it though, since I'm absolutely certain that, that kind of personalized service would most certainly cost me an extra 10 bucks a visit.

Monday, November 30, 2009


I am feeling particularly Bitchy today so, in that spirit, here’s a list of 5 Random things that Piss me off:

1. Too much noise in the morning: I suck ass at getting up even remotely close to the time required to make it to work at the hour they seem to think I should be at my desk. To help combat this problem I have 3 alarms that go off. This morning I had those 3 alarms PLUS a handy wake up call from my husband (he manages to get up and out of the house by 5 am). So this morning the phone is ringing, the beep beep alarm is beeping the two clock radios are battling it out to be louder as they pump out some horrendous “rock” tune, one cat is howling, one cat is mewing, and a dog is whining. The only thing that could possibly have added to the noise level in my bedroom at 7 am was some asshole with a bullhorn screaming at me.
Did I wake up? Yes. Am I happy about it? No. Was I still really late for work? Absolutely.

2. GE Appliances requiring Water or Cold. When we moved into our house it had no appliances and we were lucky enough to have some wiggle room to get all new appliances. We researched appliances and decided based on ratings, repair rates, and consumer reports that we would purchase ALL GE appliances. Our Stove, Oven, Microwave and Dryer work perfectly fine, some of them even work remarkably well. Everything else though, sucks ass. The washing machine was repaired once on warranty and now that it’s off it bangs like a son of a bitch. The dishwasher has been repaired twice and since it is also off warranty the water leaking problem goes unresolved. And today, we find, our fridge is fucked! Looking on repair websites I have found the “technical” term for what is wrong with the fridge is that it is “not cooling”. Since the fridge, in my humble opinion, has only one job and that job is to cool shit down and keep it cold the fact that it isn’t “cooling” is thereby the definition of fucked!

3. Drivers. I don’t think I need to elaborate on this. (and yet here I go) There is roughly 1% of the driving population who don’t piss me off. There is another 1% that actually cause me to remark on how good and capable they are of piloting their vehicle and that’s it. The other 98% piss me off. Always. It is impossible for me to make a trip anywhere, where I am driving, and not get pissed off by some “spectacular fuckwhit”! Even just pulling out of my driveway and repositioning to park on my street will cause me to encounter one of those 98%.

4. Responsible people in their 20’s. Who ARE these people? In my 20’s I was running up debt, drinking, and working a shitty job while I got my degree. These assholes are buying houses and renting them out to their roommates giving them home equity by 25! They have things like RRSP’s and SAVINGS! (I’m not sure what that second one is but people tell me its like a Visa you don’t have to pay back). I am tired of getting financial advice from some baby just out of high school whose parents have put money in an education fund for them so they don’t have to take a student loan. Me and my debt don’t need to feel even worse about our situation by some young shit who’s “got it all together”

5. People used to getting their way regardless of the affect on others. I can describe what I mean by this best with an analogy. I tell my husband when we are rich I’m going to scream for Mu Shu Pork. MU SHU PORK!! I’ll yell! I will rant and rave that I want to have Mu Shu Pork and I want it now! Whats that? You’re busy detailing my car, doing my laundry and balancing my chequebook all at the same time? I don’t care! You stop all that (but still somehow manage to get all those things done at one time) and you get me Mu Shu Pork!!! Then, when someone finally presents me with moist and juicy Mu Shu Pork I will say, “What is that? Oh, right, well, just put it over there, I’m not really that hungry”. You’ve met these people, they want you to fix their problem and they think you should be able to do it in 5 seconds flat. Oh, and you should be happy they have thought to make you do this for them, what else would you be doing with your poor little life any way?

***Disclaimer*** I have no idea what Mu Shu Pork is, what it tastes like, if its even a food, and if it is if I have spelled it correctly.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The Menagarie

Due to our plethora of pets,(2 dogs 3 cats and around 30 fish, Oh My!) I feel less like a human who owns a home and more like a zoo keeper who cleans the large, beautifully decorated, “cage” we have purchased for our menagerie.

Since I’m not Dr. Doolittle I have no real proof but I feel quite confident in saying that the apparent goal of each of these pets seems to be to make their “cage” as gross as humanly possible. Actually, humanly possible is probably not the right expression in this circumstance, because they are much more skilled at debauchery than any human I have ever met.

The Fish are, well, fish. They swim around in their fishy-ness, eating and shitting. Now that I’m thinking about it I must say, with the bottom feeder catfish and plecostomas who seem to pick up after the rest, they are possibly the cleanest animals in the house. Or maybe it just seems that way because their mess is contained in their tank in one corner of the “cage”.

The Cats give the air of cleanliness, but I am not so easily fooled! They lay around on the couch licking themselves clean. This is really a bait and switch though. They are not “cleaning” themselves! They are dirtying whatever surface they are sitting on! While they “clean” themselves they spread their hair all over whatever happens to be within a 50 mile radius.

All cats shed, but my cats are professionals. There is a chair in the “cage” that used to be black. Through years of “cleaning” and “sleeping” in said chair it has been turned permanently orange. It is actually physically impossible to rid the chair of enough hair to get the colour back to black. These cats are the Jedi masters of shedding. They can projectile shed from a distance of at least 30 feet, I’m sure of it. In fact, if my cats were travelling in a vehicle going 100 miles an hour on the highway with the windows closed and you passed them doing the same speed travelling the other direction you would find soon after, that some how, you have cat hair on you.

It’s not just their hair that makes the mess either! They seem to be incapable of eating without spreading little food bits everywhere around their dish. They haul gravel around on their paws after using the litter box. They leave bits of dead things strewn around the house and if all else fails they get up on the counter and start throwing things off on to the floor. Little fuzzy masterminds of mess!

Where the cats are masters of the shed, the dogs excel at stinking. Don’t get me wrong, they make a great effort and huge contribution to the hair and detritus that is strewn about the “cage”. They even have an added advantage of hauling things in from the outside that have just been “stuck” on them. But while they are good at shedding and generally mudding things up, where my dogs truly shine is at smelling utterly horrendous. I’m not talking about regular old dog smell either. I’m talking full on, oh my god there is something dead in our house, ranky-ness. The older, fluffier one is MUCH better at it and much more practiced but the other one is coming right along. Just yesterday someone commented that she smells awful, I swear she smiled.

I have to give them credit, they work damn hard at smelling as horrible as possible. You know how when you go for a walk you enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of the great out doors? Not my dogs. A walk is clearly a mission! That mission is to find something disgusting, and to roll in it. Is that a rotting deer carcass? Roll in it. Horse shit? Roll in it! Elk shit that is teaming with bugs? ROLL IN IT!! Rotting, meat? Eat it, then, fight with the other dog and slobber all over them with the rotting meat slobber… THEN Roll in it!!

While I appreciate that all the pets are putting a full effort into dirtying and smelling up the “cage”, I would like to somehow explain to them that my employment as zookeeper does not hinge on the necessity to clean 24/7. Until I get the ability to break through the inter-species communication barrier however I’ll have to make do with my subtle hints. Things such as bequeathing the chair to the cats, chasing the endless reams of hair, and occasionally the pets themselves with the vacuum, and frowning and sighing audibly while staring at a large tumbleweed of hair float across the floor I JUST swept, vacuumed and washed.

While those hints don’t ever work, I do relish in small acts of revenge against my furry friends. Things like, putting something sticky in the cats fur causing them to lick obsessively until they get it all out. Letting them smell what yummy thing I’m eating and not share, or the mother of all revenge tactics for the dogs… the bath! Tomorrow I will take my stinking bags of fur to the groomer after which, they will smell beautiful, look and feel silky and hate every minute of it!

For at least a week I will be the conqueror of stench in our house. I will relish in that thought, while they watch me with their beady eyes, and plan out new and increasingly disgusting ways to exact their own revenge.

“Hey zookeeper! Watch me eat this cat shit while I roll in that vomit encrusted rotting deer carcass…Its on!!”

Monday, November 23, 2009

Writing for an Audience

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Of course it does! How conceited of humans to think that a sound in nature requires their presence before it is validated as occurring. If the tree falls and you’re standing beside it and it makes an audible noise, then it made that noise. You didn’t cause the noise by listening to it. If a tree falls in the forest and no human is around to hear the noise but a deer is standing below it, do people honestly believe it would fall silently thus creating the possibility of it killing the deer? Ridiculous!

Where was I going with this?

Oh right! I was going to use the analogy to discuss writing. I took a course some years back, where we were taught to consider your audience when writing. If it’s a letter, a technical manual, a paper on the juxtaposition of characters in a play, you need to know your audience to write clearly and concisely. It was early on in my university career, and I think the important lesson for many in the class was not who the audience was, but that there was an audience.

Sure, we all considered that our professor would read our paper, how else would we get a grade, but writing on a topic they are teaching rather than writing for someone who is not teaching the material is very different. Is your prof looking to have you explain something they taught you to them as though you are teaching it? Or are they looking to have you explain your mastery of the material as a peer? The idea of audience becomes important. You have to decide, above all else, who do I want to have read this?

The memory of that lesson was sparked in me as I was wondering, would that lesson still even need to be taught? We are living in a world where we have blogging, myspace, facebook, twitter, instant messaging, email, text messaging and a host of other media available to us. Most people today just assume they have an audience. They update their status or comment on a picture, all the while expecting others to read it. Not just read it, but comment on it as well.

Everyone wants to have an opinion, and want others to have an opinion on their opinions. Well, maybe not really an opinion, but to validate their assumption of audience. We want to send our opinions out into the ether…but more than that, we want someone to read them. We don’t want to be the tree, falling, crashing down, making noise regardless of who can or can not hear. We envision an audience and want the witty banter and remarks that go with it. We want the acknowledgment, your voice is heard.

I write for an audience. I may not have one, but I write for one, at all times, even if the audience is me. A reminder note at work needs to be clear, what if I forget what I was thinking at the time? The grocery list needs to be spelled correctly, (tomatoe, tomato?) what if I ask my husband to go for me? An entry in my journal reads like a letter to a long lost friend, I don’t want to sound stupid when I read back through it, and what if I don’t remember the event I’m discussing? I need enough details to conjure up an image to someone who didn’t write it, even though that mythical person would never read it.

I write for an audience of me’s, a group of people who, like me, like to read interesting, funny, or witty things. They like to laugh, and occasionally think of a witty remark and comment. The problem with my audience of me is that we consider too deeply the audience and tend to not comment, thereby removing the validation of the audience altogether. We have moved to an age where we are considering the audience at all times when we write. The most mundane of things in our lives have become public, true we make them public, but now we consider that someone is watching, listening, reading. There is always an audience. This consideration causes censoring at times, and liberating locked versions of ourselves or our thoughts at others. When I write I hope for the latter, but know often I don’t write, and instead censor something I fear would be considered stupid.

To my grande old audience of me, and the occasional friend who reminds me about my blog giving audience to my lack of writing, all comments here are accepted, and encouraged. How else will I validate my assumption of audience?

I certainly don’t want to just crash through the forest with pomp and fan-fair only to end without acknowledgement, or better yet, applause.