blue girl

It's the People, Stupid! Or, Why I Love Blogging So Much.

I often wonder if blogging is a waste of time.  Sometimes I feel like I'm just goofing off when I should be doing other things.  And while a lot of the time, I am goofing off, I was just reminded of what is so special about blogging and why I love it so much. 

Why do you love blogging, blue girl?

Well, let me tell you.

I love blogging because I've discovered incredible writers I love who I never would have known without it.  I enjoy the relationships that have been forged in comment threads with people who don't have their own blogs, but are loyal to their favorite bloggers.  I love the connections that have been made and continue to be made with creative people around the world.  With very, very few exceptions the people I've come to know who make up my blogosphere are the coolest, most supportive people I've ever met.  At least that's what I assume.  You could all be serial killers, blogging from prison and I wouldn't know it.  But, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt.  But, if you are, please email me.  It'll be great material for a future post.

I love the little communities we have built in different parts of the blogosphere and how each community has its own style.  Some are very serious and some not so serious at all.  And then sometimes, an excellent writer combines a very serious issue with a dose of humor and I find myself laughing and crying and once again grateful for this connection.  Knowing that even if I sometimes wonder why I do it, I have no doubt why others do. 

Which brings me to Brando.  Not because I think he may be a serial killer.  I don't think he is.  Well, most of the time I don't think he is.  But, he is one of those excellent writers that recently wrote a very serious post with a dose of humor.

Over the years, I’ve had a number of jokes to explain why TLB and I, having been married since 1994, do not have kids. It was part of my release agreement with the state has been a favorite. I do have them, I just don’t know where they are is another. Because TLB already has a child to take care of, which is really just a factual statement.

I use jokes to deflect further Questions About Kids (QAK). Because in our case, the QAK is not a happy tale. It’s a long, sad, frustrating story. And today, after our last-second buzzer beater seemed improbably headed toward the hoop, we watched the last ball swirl in and out of the basket. It appears we will not be having kids of our own.

If you're one of those cool, supportive blogging people that I described above, go read Brando's entire post.  It will make you laugh and make you cry.  And will probably confirm why you started being a blogging person to begin with. 

If you're a serial killer, just copy him on the email you send to me.  He and I will eventually have a lot of fun together writing about you at your expense.

I Won't Look Good In Stripes. They Make Me Look Fat.

Is it crazy of me to think that in a few years I could be harrassed, maybe even taken in for questioning because I have a blog called Blue Girl in a Red State?

Maybe it's just my imagination running wild, but I can see it. 

I can also picture a lot of my neighbors, friends and some family members thinking to themselves or even saying out loud to each other ...

Well, she shouldn't have had a blog to begin with!  That was really dumb of her.  And to name it that?  Serves her right.  She should've known better. I would never have done such a thing.

Ah, it's probably just my crazy imagination running away with me.

After all, I remember when Bush was re-elected in 2004, my very good friend, a loyal Republican just laughed at my stressed out state and said ... don't worry, one administration can't change the country that much.

I've been thinking about that conversation a lot lately.

Yep.  Thinking about it a lot.

***

Image above by The Skimmer, with a little help from me, the future detainee.  Feel free to swipe it and post it, if that's what you want to do.  Or if you'd like a larger image to print out, just email me, I'll send you a pdf.  I'm all about freedom.  Yep.  That's me.  You can do whatever you want ... for now.

Proclaiming Tap Water Political and Declaring Uma Love Ad Nauseam Finally Pays Off For Mannion

UPDATED BELOW:  A new paragraph has been inserted that starts with a ** and ends with a **.

My buddy, Lance Mannion, International Man of Mystery and Intrigue, has been nominated for an international blogging award, The Best of the Blogs.

All you Kool Kats know why he's one of the best. 

**Did you just read "one of the best" in a plain, old regular boring way?  Do you think blue girl would intend for it to be read that way?  Pshaw!  You want to know how to read it?  Go to Claire's blog now.  And watch the video -- it's not long, just do it!  And listen how he says ... One of the best ... at the end.  That's how I typed it.  I dare you *not* to start saying it that way yourself.  I dare you!  Ok.  Back to Mannion ... one of the best.**

But, because I know how much Mannion loves compliments, here's a little refresher...

He's been called Blog Jesus by some.

Others don't like his blog because it makes them feel inadequate.

Others think he's an excellent writer, a great thinker and, gosh darnit, people like him.

So, all you Mannion fans who may come here first, go here now.  The judges are looking for input on who's the hottest and who's the nottest, so make sure you throw Mannion some love and click the Best Weblog English box.  (Make sure it's the English one.)

Good luck, Mannion!  I know it's nice just to be nominated ... blah, blah, blah ... but I hope you win!  You deserve it.

***

Now, we return to our regularly scheduled programming.  Go here and read my post.  And leave lots of comments.  I wasn't nominated for an award.  Comments are all I have.  Sniffle.

My Battery Has Been Recharged

Man!  I thought to myself.  I just hate how fast this laptop runs out of juice.  Especially when I'm playing music.  Or right in the middle of a post.  Or whatever I want to do right now.  Instead of, say, later.

I hate that I have to unplug my laptop all the time and take it across the room, five feet away, to recharge.  What a pain.  And I've been doing this for a year and a half!  I love my laptop, but it definitely has this huge downside.

So, as I was right in the middle of listening to Jean Genie a few days ago, pulsating through my really cool, new computer speakers, getting really pumped about some work I had to do, my laptop died yet again.  And I thought to myself...

There must be an answer to this!  But what?  What?!

I disconnected all the cords, walked that exhausting five feet and plugged it into the charger for the fourth time that day.

I love technology yet I loathe it at the same time!

Even though I was beginning to get close to maybe thinking about how I could rectify this situation, I lived through six more days of sheer hell.  And over and over again, many times throughout the day, as I would be surfing the Internets, or listening to music, or surfing the Internets while listening to music, or whatever important thing I was doing on my laptop, that dastardly window would pop up again and again...

YOU ARE RUNNING LOW ON POWER.  IN A FEW MINUTES YOUR LAPTOP WILL GO TO SLEEP.

I hate that this laptop is truly the boss of me!

So yesterday, when my laptop was charging yet again, I had to work on my desktop Mac.  And when I opened Netscape, I had a thought!  And I asked myself...

Too bad there's not a "cord" of some sort, available in whatever "length" I would need to reach across my room to the outlet and allow me to work on my laptop "uninterrupted" throughout the day.  But, does such a thing even exist?

I got really, really excited thinking that maybe, just maybe there would be such a "cord" for me.

But, I would need one at least six feet long.  I pondered.  Mulled it over.  Kicked it around.  And then I started to think about all those big box retailers and all they have to offer. 

This is the United States of America!  Long ago, some enterprising young chap must've figured that someone someday might need a cord of some certain length.  A better mousetrap, if you will.  Sure.  I imagined that his idea was dashed everywhere he turned.  People screeching at him ... no one would ever need a thing like that!  You are a fool!  Stop wasting your life! 

But, I had this feeling deep down, that whoever this he -- could've been a she, you never know --  was, he wouldn't listen to the naysayers.  He would pursue his dream relentlessly until his wildest dream came true.

So, I developed a plan.  I stayed up late into the night last night entering every step of my plan into Excel.  Everything had to work out just right!

I named my Excel file:  The Early Bird Gets The Worm, Or Maybe Even A "Cord" Of A Certain "Length"

And this morning, I followed my plan to a tee.  I'm so disciplined!

I got up at 6am.

I showered.

I went through that ridiculous process of becoming presentable to the outside world.

I checked my wallet to make sure I had money.

I checked to make sure I had enough gas in the car.

I poured a cup of coffee to take with me and as I was headed out the door to my big box retailer, my husband asked...

Where are you going at this hour?

I'm going to Home Depot!  I'm hoping, praying really, that I'll be able to find some sort of "cord" that will allow me to "connect" my laptop directly into the outlet across the room.  I'm hoping that I can find one at least six feet long.  I'm not sure such a thing exists, but I live in hope.  And I have to be at the store early.  Because if they do have them, I need to get there first, so other people don't buy them all up.

That's a great idea!  You are a genius!

I know!

Here's the thing though.

What?

You don't have to go to Home Depot.

Why?  Is there a store closer where I may be able to find this kind of "cord?"

No.  Home Depot's the closest store.  But I know where you could find one of these "extension cords" you speak of closer.

"Extension Cord!"  Brilliant!

And I'm almost positive it's at least six feet long!

Brilliant!  Miracle of miracles!

My heart leapt!  Joy overcame me.  Such a thing really did exist!

Where can I find this "extension cord?"

In your office, by the radio.  And there's some in the basement.  We've got a ton of them.

Oh man! 

I ran from the kitchen and in a very short amount of time, found the perfect "extension cord."

And here I sit, permanently plugged in and totally pumped.  And so grateful to that enterprising young chap from long ago.  America.  What a country!

You Think I Reek of Lame? Well, That's Crazy! Ya Chuckers!

If you know me well enough by now, you know that there are certain words and phrases, or expressions, if you will, that I will drive completely into the ground.

Why do I do this, you ask?  Why do I seem to think some words or phrases are so funny that I am forced to repeat them repeatedly?  Over and over?  Ad nauseum?  Repeatedly, if you will ... till the end of time?  Because cracking myself up is my number one priority in life.  Does it crack everyone up, though?  Everyone who visits Blue Girl?

Well, you can look at it one of two ways.  Depends on what kind of person you are.

1)  You are, what I'll call, A Chucker -- the type of person who sees life and all it entails negatively.  You are the type of person who sees the proverbial glass containing some grody liquid half empty, if you will.  If you are of this type, you think I'm unoriginal, hokey, annoying and maybe even downright obnoxious.  My usage of the same word or expression, or phrase repeatedly drives you insane.  Coo-coo.  Sends you on a one way trip to Bonkerville.  Makes you never want to click over to Blue Girl in a Red State again.  Leaving me only with stats of people looking for photos of Carol Alt, cartoon porn and Happy Bunny.  Making me feel unwanted, rejected, lonely, and very unpopular.

Damn You Chuckers Making Me Feel Unpopular!  Say it like Jon Stewart.  That's another thing you should know about me.  When I say phrases, I usually imitate whoever I saw do it first while I'm saying it.  So, as I type Damn You Chuckers Making Me Feel Unpopular!  I'm saying it just like Jon Stewart, raising my fist in the air and everything.  It's quite a good imitation!  I should be on The Daily Show.  I have a feeling Jon and I would be great buddies.  Cracking jokes ad nauseum, driving those around us straight to Bonkerville, if you will.  Or maybe not.  It is a comedy show after all.  And I assume there's not a lot of Chuckers on staff.  They should hire me.

2)  You are a Kool Kat -- the kind of person who sees life and all it entails as the lemonade you make when someone whips a lemon at your head.  You catch it just in time and squeeze it for all it's worth.  You think to yourself ... Sure, people keep whipping lemons at my head repeatedly, but look how good I can catch!  You see the proverbial glass of lemonade you have made as half full, if you will.   If you are of this type, my usage of the same word or expression, or phrase repeatedly might make you smile or even laugh.  Probably not out loud though.  I don't get a lot of LOL!!!!! in my comment threads.

I do, however, get a lot of these:

:)

Everyone who reads blue girl knows that I use the word Pshaw! repeatedly in a neverending attempt to express my fake outrage.  I have no idea how many people I have driven away by my repeated usage of that word.  When I say it, I imitate my friend, Dawn.  Because she's the one who started it and when she says it, she says it in a funny way.  Like ... Pshaw!  No.  Wait.  Not quite like that.  She says it more like ...  Pshaw!  Pshaw?  Wait.  More like ... Pshaw!  Oh, hell's bells, I can't imitate Dawn that well.  I just say it like me.  Pshaw!

Sometimes my imitations reek of lame.  Deal with it, Chuckers!  Reek.  Of.  Lame.  Boy, do I love that phrase.  I learned it from a blogger.  A Kool Kat that goes by the name of Brent.  And he used the phrase about his new kitty's name -- the name the kitty came with -- which was "Tom Kitty."  Brent felt that name reeked of lame, so he decided to rename him "Taft," after the U.S.'s fattest president.  Brent does not reek of lame.  He doesn't reek of anything, that I'm aware of anyway.  He's a magnificent bastard!  Who does bastardly things and then accentuates those things with "jazz hands." That's the way Brent describes himself in his profile.  That description does not reek of lame at all.  Not at all, if you will.

I also use the word Cobag quite frequently.  But, only when referring to this Chucker.  Nuff said.

Kool Kat TC introduced me to the phrase Believe It Or Don't!  I love it.  I do.  Believe It Or Don't!  For some reason I feel that that phrase deserves all initial caps, with a slammer.  I would say Believe It Or Don't!, but I won't.  If you don't know why, you're just a Chucker who will never be able to figure anything out.  Believe It Or Don't!

I can become obsessed with certain words or phrases pretty quickly.  And I can pick them up from anybody, anytime, anywhere.  I am a equal opportunity obsessive compulsive.

My new phrase I just love and imitate constantly comes from a Time Warner TV spot for cable.  I know how much you Chuckers love advertising.  But, for once in your liberal commie-loving lives, bear with me for a moment.  Because I'm going to be using it in my comments on your blogs and you're going to have to know how to imagine me saying it.  The phrase is not funny in and of itself, if you will.  It's the context of how the phrase is used in the spot and more importantly, how the guy in the spot says it.  Let me set it up.

Redheaded girl moves in to new neighborhood.  Pulls up in her red car just as her neighbor, a goofy looking guy, pulls up.  He's quite smitten in his goofy, dorky way.  The quality of the You Tube video I'm going to link to totally reeks of lame, so I can't hear how the spot starts, so I'm going to have to go from memory here.  And my memory, more times than not, totally reeks of lame.

Goofy Smitten Guy:  My mom's got a red car like yours.

Female Redhead:  Really?

Goofy Smitten Guy:  She doesn't have red hair like you, though.

Female Redhead:  My mom does.

Goofy Smitten Guy:  That's Crazy!

Ok, now.  Watch it.  I mean it!  Watch the spot!  Watch it repeatedly so you can fully appreciate how he sounds and looks when he says ... That's Crazy!  Because I do a perfect, Daily Show quality imitation of him.  Like this ... That's Crazy! 

And I have plans for that phrase.  I plan on driving it completely into the ground.  Be prepared!  All you Kool Kats.  No one in the blogosphere or in my real life is going to be immune.  Everyone I know is going to have to suffer through it.  Everyone.

I may even use it so much that I drive all you Kool Kats on a one way trip to Bonkerville.  You may even be tempted to say that I reek of lame after awhile.  That I've become unoriginal, hokey, annoying and maybe even downright obnoxious.  But, then know this.  And know it good.

That will make all of you Chuckers!  With half filled glasses of grody liquid.

Yes!  You'll become Chuckers!  And who wants to be known as a Chucker?  Cuz...

That's Crazy!

A Stoli Persik Kind of Day, Shake It

Make sure you garnish your Blue Girl Cocktail with a lime wedge, lazily sqeezed.

Verdict:  Delish Natch! Pshaw!

Time to dance, Disco Communists ... Dance.

~•~~•~

Blue Girl's Totally Shake-It-Worthy typeface used in her spoken bubble graphics:
The eloquent Edwardian Script. 

Not well kerned.  Leading not perfect.  But still totally Delish.

Pinko Punko's Totally Non-Shake-It-Worthy typeface used in his spoken bubble graphics:  SquareSlab 711

Square.  Slab.  711. 

Natch.

Post Up. Best What I'm Hoping For. Hope Dashed.

Adjectives.

Nouns.

Verbs.

Other word related words.

I'm having a hard time stringing those things up there together lately to make any kind of sense. 

I mean, just re-read that sentence.  Akward yes very.

I've got writer's block.  I'm not sure if I have too many ideas to write about or no ideas at all.  All I know is that I sit down to write and all I've got is ... a vast wasteland of empty space.  Sheer blackness that envelopes my mind causing paralysis and angst.  And overwhelming anxiety that attacks every cell in my body, leaving me trembling -- shuddering, fearing for my sanity.  The future of this blog.  And all of humanity.

I'm jealous of other people who are stringing their words together properly.  You know, in an interesting, thought provoking sort of way.  Like Tbogg...

As Americans it is our manifest destiny to keep charging ahead secure in the knowledge that the world will recognize that what is best for us may not neccesarily be best for them, but it is still best for us.

Absolutely he's on the money sarcastically.  Agree you all?

Or Mannion...

What's boggling my mind is the continued failure of supposedly top-knotch journalists to face up to a serious question.

What if George W. Bush really is a bad President?

Top-knotch maybe not most journalists springing to mind.  Could be brainwashed all of us. 

Or Robert Farley at Lawyers, Guns and Money...

(Alexander M.) Haig and others would have us believe that the Central Intelligence Agency has been operating, essentially, as an arm of the Democratic Party for the last six years, except maybe during the brief period in which the CIA inflated the WMD estimates, and even that can perhaps be written off as originating from the Lieberman faction. That the CIA, banned from some of the more liberal college campuses in America, recruits right of center candidates by both structure and inclination can conveniently be ignored. Reality cannot run counter to the claims of the Republican Party, whether that reality is reported by the CIA or by CNN. Any evidence of divergence is due solely to bias, ill will, and anti-Americanism.

Fruitcake totally Haig.  Reagan shot.  I'm in charge!  I'm in charge!  Scarce reality.  Scarce.  Scarce.  Scary scarce.  Rare these days not common.

And this by way of Frank Rich, by way of Ron Suskind, by way of some presidential aide ...

In what may have been the single most revealing paragraph anyone has reported about the Bush Administration, the author Ron Suskind, writing in The New York Times Magazine two weeks before the 2004 election, recounted a conversation with a presidential aide who spoke sarcastically of journalists and their "reality-based community."  The aide, who sounded uncannily like Karl Rove, informed Suskind with great condenscension that a "judicious study of descernible reality" is "not the way the world really works anymore."  The aide explained:  "We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality.  And while you're studying that reality -- judiciously, as you will -- we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out.  We're history's actors ... and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do."

2004 read this then.  Around my living room running hair on fire.  Kerry?  Before election by two weeks?  Yelling then ... Won't win!  Won't win!  Then I knew it.  Felt it.  Bush again four more years.  A vast wasteland of empty space.  Sheer blackness causing paralysis and angst.  And overwhelming anxiety, leaving me trembling -- shuddering, fearing for my sanity.  And all of humanity.

Adjectives.

Nouns.

Verbs.

Republicans.

Democrats.

I'm having a hard time stringing those things up there together lately to make any kind of sense.

Shudder.

Cleveland Loses Again! What A Shock!

The Browns played good today.  They actually looked like a real football team. 

I only watched out of the corner of one eye as I read my new book.

They lead the whole game.

And then.

With very little time left, Baltimore makes an interception in our end zone.

The Browns are going to lose!  I shouted to no one in particular!  They will!  Baltimore will march right down the field and score a touchdown!  You watch!  It'll happen.

They don't need a touchdown, said The Skimmer.

You're right!  Baltimore will march down the field and make a field goal.  It's going to happen!  Mark my words!  Stupid Cleveland.

Did you mark my words?  Did you?  Cuz I was right.

Baltimore marched down the field and what's his face made a 53 yard field goal, winning the game by one point with four seconds left.

Of course!

What a shock, huh Michael Baines?

How 'bout you, Jedmunds?  Are you shocked?  Are you?  Oh wait.  You don't visit blue girl anymore.  I've been meaning to do this for awhile.  Jedmunds, you are officially On Notice.  Just like the Cleveland Browns.

What about you, Mr. Kuusisto?  Are you a Browns' fan?  All I can say is ... I hope not.  Yes!  That's what I hope!

Could this sort of thing EVER shock a Clevelander anymore?

Ever?

EVER?

My answer?

The obvious answer?

NO!

And you know what?  I don't care!  The Browns are jinxed and that's just the way it is.  Every sports team in this town is jinxed.

Every single one.

Every single last one!

And I just don't care anymore.

AT ALL!

Believe it or don't!

Bobness, The Godless Chinese and Maternity Hiking Clothes. Gotta Love It!

If you haven't noticed by now, let me just point out the obvious.  I am a huge fan of The Unbearable Bobness of Being.  HUGE!  Plus, he is so into me, too.  It says so on his blog!

Besides being really creative and a great writer, Bob never has any typos in his posts.  And I'm not being critical of people who do when I say that.  I'm the one who spelled Lyme disease Lime disease once.  Making people think I was suffering from some mysterious, exotic fruit ailment.  I've also spelled gnat knat.  And don't even bring up my you'res that are supposed to be yours.  It'll make Brando's head explode.

I declared my bloggy love for Bobness for all those who surf his little corner of the Appeasezaphere to see just this past week.  Because he ended a pretty funny post with this...

That's all I got today. I hope Hugo Chavez reads this, has a HUGO laugh and mails me 100 million dollars.

Everyone have a lovely day.

Praise Allah.

By the way, make sure you click on the Ahmadinejad link in his post.  Wait.  Bobness didn't link it right.  So, here it is.  He may know how to spell, but he doesn't know how to link!  Duh, Bob!  That post is pretty funny, too.  And so true ... so true!

Bob's got another funny post up today.  I'm having a hard time deciding which paragraphs to copy and paste here.  I'll go with these two...

We went to Lincoln's 10,000 Silver Dollar Bar and casino and cafe and gift shop and tourist trap summoned up from the depths of hell to tempt good Christian folks to pull off the freeway and spend their godly money on plastic shit made by the godless Chinese.

I'd driven past this place (you come upon it just as you cross from Idaho into Montana on I-90) a zillion times but my parents never took us kids to any cool places so we never went in.

Guess what?  We've got an I-90 here, too, in The Poorest City In The United States of America!  But, we don't have a Lincoln's 10,000 Silver Dollar Bar.  Makes sense when you think about it.  Not much godly money to be spent on plastic crap made by the godless Chinese.  Oh well.  Maybe some day.  One can dream.

Just go read Bob's post.  I love Bobness ... now all of you know, too!  I do believe he might be my totem animal.  Whatever that means.

Because sometimes I get stuck in the 1970s and can't get out

One. 

When the rain came I thought you'd leave, cuz I knew how much you loved the sun...

~•~•~•~

Two. 

I had nothing to do on this hot afternoon, but to settle down and write you a line...

~•~•~•~

What?  Are you laughing at me?  Well, it could've been worse. 

Much worse.