Internets, my life is changing. I went and got myself a goddamn promotion at work. I’m gonna have my name on a door and everything. And that’s pretty much when you know you’ve made it in life. When someone takes a piece of plastic and etches your name on it and slides it in to the place where someone else’s name was, you’ve arrived. It’s plastic. With your name on it!
Anyways, I think we all know what this means; I have to start getting all serious and shit (at work that is) and that includes not coloring. At work. Which I totally do and apparently you get rewarded for that kind of behavior. (I just typed color with a ‘U’. Clearly I live too close to Canada) This also means that I need to stop using the company computer for writing my blog and reading your awesome blogs. You guys, I’m going to miss that the most. But I WILL still be reading your shit. Believe that.
This is where you picture my sad face.
This is also where I explain how I write.
Sometimes I have a great idea for a post but no time to do it. Then when I do have the time, my enthusiasm for the post is gone. And sometimes I have all the time in the world to write but I’m just not “feelin’ it” and the moment passes. And sometimes there is a box of wine in front of me and I forget that I even have a blog.
What I’m trying to say is that a perfect storm has to happen for me to write something for this blog. I don’t want to write half-assed shit here just for the sake of writing something. I know my posts aren’t profound or mind-blowing but goddamnit I want them to be written to reflect me and my foul mouthed, skewed, unique look on my crazy life. You get me, Internets? YOU GET ME???
Also, sleepin’ season is over here in the Pacific Northwest and the sun has shown itself and might just stick around. (that fucker better stick around) Which means that when “The Perfect Storm” for writing happens, I might just want to enjoy time with my husband and The Murphy…you know…out-fucking-side and shit.
I’m not leaving or anything. Oh no, motherfuckers. I’m in this blog shit for the long haul. And with that I don’t know whether to wait for your applause or to send you a fruit basket as an apology. And $20. And some prescription meds. And booze.
And for those of you that think I was joking about coloring at work….
Cheers ~ SF