I remember when I had all the time in the world to post, and I was all like "Hey! 2 Blogs in one day! Hooray!" I usually focused on making my words rhyme too. Long live Dr. Suess. I also got all dejected when my reader was over 200. What can I say, I like to keep it low. (That's what she said? No? Alright, I'll make up for that bad one.)

These days, my reader doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there. It's like marriage in the 20th year. Woman walks in from a long, hard day of work and husband is sitting on the couch with his bird hanging out of the peep hole of his sweatpants and doesn't even know that his wife walked in. These days she's just a deposit box for his bird anyway. Speaking of sweatpants with a bird hole, I think guys have it made. In the middle of the night, they don't even have to pull their pants down. I'm going to invent women's pajamas that have a huge hole on the crotch for peeing.

Anyway...

My reader definitely wants to break up with me. The name calling has begun. He's all "Hey numb-nuts, you don't pay attention to me!" and I'm all "Well, I'm busy. I'll open you as soon as I can." Then I do, and I kind of just stare at it. Like its this super mountain to climb, but I forgot my hiking boots, and whips and chains. So, instead of taking a whack at it, I just leave it alone. Then my reader starts being all "Yo! Don't even open me if you're not going to touch me!"

...THAT is what she said.

So now that I've broken a cardinal rule and explained that I haven't been posting and why, I'll leave you with a story I like to call:

"At least he's not giving vibrators to 8 year olds"
Starring: My Dad

Setting: The kitchen
Time: 8AM This morning
Scene: Dad is hovering over a box, trying to read directions (of which he can't read in general)

Me: What's that?
Dad: Some stuff I picked up.
Me: Okay. For what?
Dad: The chairs in the kitchen.
Me: There's nothing wrong with the chairs
Dad: Not the chairs, the other things, the stools at the bar.
Me: What's wrong with them?
Dad: They're hard and uncomfortable.
Me: Well they're stools. We could get some round pillows or something.
Dad: Well, I picked these up, but I don't think they work.

(Dad stands up and there's a puddle of liquid on the stool. His Horton Hears a Who pajama pants are soaked)

Me: WHAT THE EFF IS THAT?!

.....Wait for it...

Dad: STOOL SOFTENER.

....

Dad: But it doesn't work.

....

Happy Holiday's loves. And also? Thanks for the nominations and votes for the @20sb Blogger of the Month for January! To say I was surprised would be an understatement. You know how people are all like "Oh, being nominated was enough!" but you know it's just a ploy to get more votes?

....Being nominated was enough. No, for real. :)


Also? Congratus to this month's Blogger Ashley from Writing to Reach You.