Excellent conversation in the comments today. I’m in luff with all y’all.

To say thanks, check out this skit that cracks Scout and I up every time.

(There are many things that this particular post is NOT meant to be, such as: mean spirited, sour grapes, bitter or petty. The things that I ask should be read with a “no really, I’m curious, and want to know your opinion” tone of voice, not a “why the eff would you ever do something like that” tone of voice. Just something to keep in mind as you read.)

In high school, there were the popular girls. We called them preppy. There were two or three groups of them – the pretty girls who were cheerleaders or pom squad or athletes, with the jock boyfriends and the right clothes and the full social calendar, including every dance of course. We knew about their sex lives, because it was a small school and things like that were whispered during choir class. They were never considered to be slutty however, serial monogamy starting at age 14 for these girls.

While I was in the fray of high school, I was the smart girl. I was that girl who would have been really pretty if she’d had a clue about hair and makeup, and was down about 10 or 20 pounds. Oh, and who had the motivation to get ready for school every single morning, rather than throwing on something comfortable and heading out. My boy-friend (not necessarily my “boyfriend” but to even begin to explain THAT particular relationship is more than I need to get into here) was one of the cool guys (aka “The Dudes”) so I spent a lot of time with them, which brought me into the sphere of these popular girls. I never would have considered myself their friend. I thought I was rather invisible and unknown in high school.

Fast forward to a reunion (what number is *so* irrelevant.) I think I talked to every single person there. I left that night with the feeling of perhaps I’d been better liked or better known in high school than I had thought.

But back to those popular girls. Those popular girls who I wanted to know about so much, who I assumed were better than me and who I would periodically try to get them to notice me.

This is the part where I want to be sure that no one thinks I’m trying to be an ass. Here’s the part where I really am looking for alternate points of view.

Check out that paragraph in italic above again. This is comparable to how I feel about some of those A Lister bloggers out there who can make their living on their blog ad revenue. (Or at least enough of a living to finance a shoe habit.) Who may or may not have comments turned on and who may or may not ever visit my site.

Ya’ll know my blogroll point of view. So taking that – tell me – those of you who read those A Lister blogs (see me not naming names?) – Do they know your blog? Your story? Do they visit you? Email you? Comment you?

Specifically, do you blogroll them if they never know your blog, never know your story? And if you do – why?

Yes this post is shameless.

5. If you wrap it right you don’t have to wear anything under it. No I’m not showing you photos.
4. You get two hands back when your baby is tiny and will. not. let. you. put. him. down. (Personal experience, and the EXACT reason I got my first wrap)
3. Carry that baby, lose that baby weight.
2. It’s one more tool in the “get the baby to nap” supply kit.
1. Never having to push an empty stroller while carrying a pissed off baby.

again and again and again.

He’d been away on an overnight trip for work that involved some hella long hours and stress in a part of the state not particularly known for its culture nor class.

As he was putting away groceries I noticed he was putting away some American Beer*. I gasped in shock.

Me: Scout, you were away TOO LONG! What happened to you?! WHY did you buy American Beer?

Scout: I didn’t, PM bought a sixer for him and JB to split.

I looked in the fridge. There were five beers there.

Me: So between two grown men, they drank one whole beer?

Scout: Well, PM isn’t much of a drinker, he’s more of a bourbon man himself.

Me: Well maybe he’d be a beer man if he bought beer that didn’t suck.

At this point I am unable to continue telling you this story, let’s suffice it to say that the groceries were no longer put away and I was swept off my feet and shown how much I was appreciated.

*name of American Beer has been kept anonymous to protect the tasteless.

Oh, I’m gettin’ motivated, my bloggy friends.

Thing one:

I have thought of my own little bloggy fun to have over here – anyone like making bling buttons? I have nothing to give but my thanks and total credit for the bling making, but someday when I have something to give – I will give it to you. AND you also get to know my hotshot (snicker, yeah right) idea before I unveil it to the world!

Thing two:

I feel the need for a tagline. A little something to go under the header of “Alex Year One”. I’m sure if I give it enough thought in the middle of the night while I should be sleeping, that I will come up with something, but perhaps some help ….

Thing three:

Could anyone use a $50 off a two night stay at a Marriott hotel? Scout and I have a coupon that must be used before the end of the year and we’re not going to get it used. If this would potentially make your life easier, leave a comment. If there is more than one, I’ll draw for it. Scout has also asked his online buds if anyone could use it – so the point here might be moo. (not a typo. I meant to say “moo”, It’s like a cow’s opinion, it doesn’t matter.)

And totally luv and thanks to Jen and her husband for figuring out the fix of my header problem – I haven’t fixed it yet, but I wanted to give the public props to them in advance

And to my Secret Blogger Santa – I don’t know who you are yet, but your email made my day. It’s *so* outstanding to feel appreciated, and your email was one heckuva warm fuzzy. I’m thinking of printing it and taping it to my bathroom mirror – and if you think I’m kidding…. So thank you thank you thank you, from (as always) the bottom of my boobs – which is a LONG way down!

Yo, bitchez, it’s me, Alex. Mah mom is off crying in the corner like some pansy ass pansy because, “she ain’t got no sleepy in a while” and I, apparently talk like I ain’t got no edumakashun …

I got tagged by Amy’s Kim to do this meme.

The Rules Of The Meme:

Each player makes a list of eight random facts/habits about themselves.

At the end of your list, choose eight people to to tag and list their names.

Leave them a comment on each of their websites to let them know that they have been tagged.

The people tagged will write a post on their own website about their eight things, post these rules, and tag eight others.

1. I will be 8 months old on Christmas Day. I expect good presents. Even though the people at NaturalPod (c0upon code: CMPSTG10) called and told Mommy today that my presents will probably be late because she just ordered them today. Sucky Mommy. Just because I won’t remember, doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter Mommy! But I love you Mommy!

2. I love eating Indian food and Chinese food. Almost as much as I love eating YoBaby. Almost as much as I love Mommy!

3. I decided to mix it up and start nursing exclusively on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I said to myself, “Self, there is a milk bar RIGHT THERE. Perhaps you shall partake.” And I partook. I love my Mommy.

4. I decided to mix it up and start waking up to nurse every 90 minutes all night long on Thanksgiving day. I am very thankful for mommy’s boobies. Very. I want to tell her all night. Sometimes she tries to take them away before I am done. This is not okay. I love my Mommy very much.

5. It takes Mommy 10 days of this before it will make her cry. This is something called “a breaking point.” Interesting….

(Whoops, forgot this is about me, not Mommy.)

5. I then, just for fun, slept 7 hours in a row for the first time in my entire, whole, wide, life. Just for fun. It was fun to have Mommy in such a good mood that day. It was even funnier to watch her act like I was going to do it again the next night. I laughed so hard when I started waking her up each and every hour. Well, I laughed on the inside, my mouth was too full of milk to actually laugh out loud. I might shoot milk out my nose. That would be uncool. My Mommy is kewl.
6. I think it’s tewtally fun to watch Mommy climb into the crib with me when she wants me to nap in there. Especially when I make her get on her hands and knees to let me eat. Mm. Good times. My Mommy is athletic.

7. My poop smells like roses. (Like rotten roses that have been composted in pig manure and left out to dry in the hot summer sun.) NO MOMMY THIS IS MY MEME, QUIT TRYING TO TAKE AWAY ALL OF MY FUN OR I WILL KICK YOU IN THE FULL BLADDER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT JUST SO YOU CAN SEE HOW MUCH FUN IT IS TO PEE ON YOURSELF AND HAVE TO LAY IN IT!

Um. I mean …. *looks around* *looks innocent* I luff you Mommy.

8. Vote Kaiser and Tavish 2008! Sleep is for Losers … and Parents… so clearly if Sleep=Losers and Parents=Sleep then Parents=Losers. Um… I love my Mommy and my Daddy, even if they are Losers.

*rubs hands together in glee*

I tag:

Connor (For Sleep is for Losers International to *really* work, we have to be *really* international.)

Sammy

Rooster

Ivan the Onion

Badness Jones

Annie “Whadoonin”Pair

Shortman “Possible Love in a Sock” Hot (to help train me for “Kaiser, the teen years”)

Baby O or LB – because I’ve recently learned they have successfully kicked their parents out of their bed completely. I am in awe of their powers.

(First off – can anyone look at my source code and tell me what I need to do to move the “Alex Year One” down so it’s not cut off? I really don’t know what I breathed on to move it, so I don’t even know where to begin hunting and pecking to see what will fix it.)

I nabbed a tag from Secret Agent Mama for this one:

Rules: Devise a list of 5-10 courses you would take to fix your life. It?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s more fun to be in classes with friends, so include one class from the person who tagged you that you?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢d also like to take.

I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ll be taking:

Genealogy Study for Dummies This one I’ll take with SAM because I’m already a genealogy DORK and I need to have one class where I’ll be a know it all. That’s how I roll.

Photoshop for the Distracted I have Photo Elements, but I’m so distracted that I can’t seem to do anything with it. This course would have to be taught in audio/visual soundbytes.

How to Fall Asleep Like a Post Orgasm Man Dudes, I need to knock off this “wind down, get sleepy, eventually fall asleep within a couple hours of waking up” nonsense. I need to be able to close my eyes and BAM sleep.

Hypnotism for Babies You are getting sleepy. Sleepy. Very Sleepy. ‘Nuff said.

Book Writing with Just Your Thoughts (no pencil needed) If I could have all my thoughts go straight to printed word, I would be more prolific than Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts combined.

I tag Sarcastic Mom, Somewhere in the Suburbs and Arkie Mama.

***

And for the Pay it Forward:

The first 3 commenters to commit to doing a give away of something home made will get something home made from me!! Read more>>>

?¢‚Ǩ?ìI will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this Pay It Forward exchange. I don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t know what that gift will be and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù

For the first 3 people that respond I have a handmade goodie I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ll send you. This goodie will come after January 1, 2008.
What do you have to do?
1. Respond on this blog and give your email address so that I can contact you for your address.
2. Place this on your own blog and also send the first 3 people that respond something.

It’s dark

My arms and legs are so cold

My middle is warm

My neck hurts

My back hurts

So bad

I can’t get relief

I can’t change position

I lay my face in your hair

My knee never stops bouncing

I am so tired

This moment is painful

But I will hold it close

Because it’s better than the moment

I threw the rejected pacifier in anger

and the moment I wanted to throw you with that same force

and the moment I pictured taking you to the fire department

where the “safe place” sign resides

and walking away to a quiet place where I could sleep

I am so tired

My body is bent over yours

Trying to be a safe place for you to grow again

I still feel pain

From your developing form

This moment is painful

But better than feeling for the bumps in your mouth

the ones that would mean teeth

the ones that would tell of an end to this pain

for you and for me

it’s better than fully waking

to realize I will have to claw my way

through insomnia to sleep

only to wake again

My body hurts

But you breathe deep and even

You are heavy against me

You keep my heart warm

I shelter you here

While I pray for long sleep

Blogging in my mind

While I should be sleeping

How hopeless am I?

(Thank you, bow, thank you, never again will I ‘ku, but I thought of this while I was …. yeah… not sleeping.)

FYI folks, doesn’t look to be anything to lose sleep over, but good to know anyway:

HiB Vac recall

So reading Mary Alice’s post reminded me of a verbal faux pas I made once upon a time.

I had a friend named Lin, and friend named Chris Payson. Now Lin and Chris were rather quiet, wallflower kind of people. They never caused any scandal or any gossip within the group (unlike the rest of us.)?Ǭ† These friends shocked the socks off us when they unexpectedly hooked up one night in a college campout wine cooler haze and had some horizontal ‘everything but’ kind of action.

The next morning as six 19 year old girls smashed into a Honda Civic hatchback, Lin reported what had happened. Given the TOTAL unlikeliness of something like this EVER happening, I had trouble wrapping my brain around it to the point that I had some trouble saying what was on my mind, and blurted out, “I can’t believe you had Chris Penis’s Payson in your House!”

Yeah. We were a classy sort of gaggle of hungover girls that morning.

Apparently, as a topper of the “event” when all was, uh, said and done, if you will, there was a … liquid up the nose incident, which caused her to sneeze.

Which led us to declare:

“Penis is the Reason for your Sneezin’!”

(I’m not a huge Larry the Cable Guy fan, but at this point, I feel a heartfelt, “Lord, I apologize,” is REALLY necessary.)