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The Fat Lady is Singing

It’s over.

Thank jolly rancher, it is the last day of November and my final day of writing a daily post. I feel like I should celebrate.

Oh right. First I’ve got to write this goddamned post.

A few days ago, I sought out your help. I asked you to vote on a series of post ideas, and you obliged me by mostly voting to allow me to rerun a post from my seedy past.

I felt as a thank you, I would write mini-versions of all the other post ideas. The mini-versions will be performed by my favorite troup of stock photo models.

Pecan Sandies – Who the Fuck Eats These? (received 2 votes, one from my mother)

You survive and yet Twinkie is dead. Seriously these cookies are disgusting. They taste like sand. I’d actually rather eat pecans covered in sand than these.

People magazine’s Top 10 Stories of 2012 even though there’s more than a month left (3 votes)

To be fair, the top 10 stories were pretty awesome.

Full disclosure: I did not know many of the “celebrities” that did these top things. I did recognize Jessica Simpson. She had a baby. Top story #6.

My Best Spam Emails (13 votes)

Most of my wordpress spam are spambots remarking on how much they’ve learned from reading my website and like studying my articles, but sometimes these spambots can be downright hurtful.

Gigantic Greeting Cards (2 votes)

This is actually a thing.

Other (7 votes)

My bad habits from A to J – suggested by Wendy of Wendy’s Works.

Significant Udders – suggested by Adam S. of My Right to Bitch.

A book review of the The Secret – suggested by Angie Z. of Childhood Relived

And finally what happened to speakers 1 through 6 – suggested by both Laura of Unlikely Explanations and Jo Eberhardt

NaBloWriMo Coming to a Clo

Sweet Jesus on a Pringle! The end of November is near and soon endeth my indenture servitude to the 30-post-a-day blog challenge.

Three posts remain. What will they be about?

Seriously, I’m asking you, what will they be about?

That’s right, the last three posts will be chosen by you, the reader!

I was toying around with some ideas:

  • Pecan Sandies – Who the fuck eats these?
  • People Magazine wraps up the top stories of 2012 even though there’s still more than a month left to the year
  • My best spam emails
  • Gigantic greeting cards
  • What Hugo is looking for in a woman and/or puppet
  • The best Speaker7 post you never read from the time she had 9 followers
  • something about that thing

As you can see, I’m struggling. That’s where you come in.

You will vote for the post you would like to read.

Full disclosure: I do not want to write about pecan sandies. I really don’t know why anyone eats them. At my former workplace, we would take turns buying treats for the office, and my boss would buy these, and it was the equivalent of giving a kid Mary Janes for Halloween. And that’s pretty much all I have to say on the matter.

If you vote for other that means you want to read something other than the shit ideas I’ve been toying with. Leave your suggestions in the comments, please.

And so the endeth begineth.

50 Shades of Shame

I just bought a bathing suit.

This might not seem like a big deal, but it is for me. My current suit– the faded, shapeless, stringy, ragged, dust cloth–has seen better days.

My suit. Incidentally the Shamwow™ spokesman has also seen better days.

In fact its best day was in the year 2000, when I first purchased it. Prior to that purchase, I wore my mother’s bathing suit from the 1980s. I’ve always considered myself somewhat a fashion icon.

I was hoping it would see me through another decade, but alas, that is not possible. My toddler son takes a weekly swimming class, and we are one swim class away from him completely dismantling the top of my swim garment. He is very fond of the clutch-grip-at-the-chest-and-the-yanking-down-to-expose-mom swim stroke. So my new suit is one of armor.

It could be. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t try it on and just purchased blindly from a Land’s End catalog. It should be arriving any day now. If it fits, it will be a miracle.

This incredibly fascinating anecdote is to showcase how much I procrastinate. I feel that once I do something, e.g., go through the humiliation of trying on a bathing suit and suppress the thoughts of others who tried it on before me, then that task has been completed for the remainder of my lifetime, and I can move on to the next horrendous venture.

I weeded that dirt patch I call a garden last year…why, for the love of mulch, must I do it again? I gave birth to the one kid…why, for the love of inappropriate conversations with total strangers, must I go through it again?

I have been keeping 50 Shades of Grey at bay for some time now.

It held as much appeal as a Spam® sundae.

This is also 50 shades of f***ed up.

I don’t want to read it. I really don’t.

But then I click on Renee of Life in the Boomer Lane. She has written about the book in a way that makes me want to read the book, which I think is the exact opposite of her intent.

But today I was like “Oh wow!” and my inner goddess did the salsa with the succubus that took over my soul. If you have read the books, this sentence would make sense. I have not read the books so I am very confused by what I just wrote.

Her first 50 Cents of Rap post appeared in March. I thought “Hmm, sounds awful. No way can I put myself through that. It took days to erase Twilight from my sparkly marbled brain.”

Co-workers and friends began reading it. I would overhear snippets of conversation about  it–“anal fisting. tee-hee!”–but I would tune it out for more important endeavors like fastening another bobby pin to my bathing suit strap.

Just recently Renee compared E.L. James’ prose with the Bible using lines like “My subconscious nods sagely.” And I’m like “Oh wow? What the fuck does that even mean?!?” and then my subconscious nodded sagely, and I was like “Okay! Beat me with a string of anal beads or whatever Christian does so erotically in the book. I need to buy this lump of crap!”

And so it happened.

And my 30 minutes is already up. It took me that long to make my delicious Spam® sundae.