I am in a crabby mood this morning.
Head’s all cranky.
Sigh.
I announce to Mark, “I am in a crabby mood, and I don’t want to do anything.”
“So don’t.”
God, he’s irritating.
I stare at my computer monitor, hit a few keys.
Sigh.
“Are you OK?”
“I just told you I am in a crabby mood. I’m not dying, but no, I am not OK.”
“Fine, but stop groaning.”
“I did not fucking groan. I breathed. People can breathe, you know.”
“You are in a bad mood. Why don’t you go take a nap?”
“Because it is 10:00 in the morning. What sort of stupid suggestion is that? I am up, baby. This is me, all glorious and fucking up.”
“Fine, but stop groaning.”
Silence.
“I think I’m going to stop putting those quotes on my blog. You know, the Somebody Said stuff? Nobody reads those. Nobody cares about them except me.”
“How do you know no one cares? I care. I like the quotes.”
“Mmmm hmmmm . . . so you’ve missed them?”
“What?”
“I stopped updating them maybe two weeks ago . . . you’ve missed them?”
“What? Really?”
“Yep.”
“I guess I just really read your main post, and I don’t pay that much attention to what’s on the side.”
“That’s my point exactly. So I’m killing it off.”
“But then you’ve got to put something there. Some content. You can’t just give your readers nothing in place of the quotes.”
“Ok, now, babe? I am groaning for real. If I put nothing in place of something people are not reading anyway, who gives a shit?”
“Maybe if you can find a way for people to comment on the quotes . . .”
“You are not listening to me! People are not reading the quotes. If they were reading them and loving them, someone would have mentioned the fact that I have not added a new quote in two weeks. How do you not see that?”
“Maybe you could put a Like Button under the quotes.”
“Fuck.”
“So no Like Button?”
“Fuck,” and I sink my head into my hands, “You know I hate the Like Button. It’s retarded.”
“I’m just concerned about leaving a hole . . . you need content.”
“That’s just fucking annoying. I am posting every single day. People are getting content.”
Silence for a while as I stare angrily at my computer monitor, which is filled with Pretty All True . . . and fucking content, thank you very much.
Sigh.
“You feeling ok?”
FUCK.
Mark turns to me, “Another thing to consider is that if you kill off the quotes, you won’t really have a way to continue adding stuff to your Amazon store.”
“Would that be the store from which no one is buying a fucking thing? That store?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap?”
“Stop being so annoying. It just seems pointless to add quotes that people never read in order to add the source books to a shopping list that people never consult when they go shopping in a store from which they never purchase anything. Don’t you see?”
“I think you should leave it up. And post some more quotes. I didn’t realize you had gotten so far behind.”
“Oh my god. I am not behind if no one cares. No one fucking cares.”
“I can’t talk to you when you get like this.”
“So don’t talk. I do not even care.”
Silence.
I am still crabby. Duh.
In other news, this week is Teacher Appreciation Week, apparently.
Maj made a card for her teacher.
Mark interrupts my thoughts here, “Do you have Paint on your computer?”
“What?”
“Do you have the drawing program Paint on your computer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, could you look?”
“Jesus, fine . . . where?”
“I think it may be under Accessories, called Paint. Just look for Paint. Do you see Paint? Click on Paint. It’s right there. Paint. Click on it.”
“Oh my god, could you say Paint a few more fucking times? Jesus.”
“Ok, well you were asking what that woman Allie Brosh uses in her blog, and it’s Paint.”
“So fucking what?”
“So you have it. You could use it if you want.”
“OK, the fact that I have Paint does not mean that I will be able to tell a story like Allie or illustrate a story like Allie. That’s like handing someone a pencil and saying, This is the exact tool that Shakespeare used! Go forth and create! Don’t you see how stupid that is?”
(OK, I am not exactly sure that Shakespeare used a pencil, but you know what I mean.)
“God . . . you are in a really bad mood.”
“DID I NOT MENTION THAT TO YOU?”
Fuck.
Anyway. Maj made a card for her teacher.
Kallan wrote a little story for her teacher. With pictures.
Like fucking Allie Brosh. Thank you very much, Mark, for making me feel all inadequate and shit as I try to write a post about Teacher Appreciation Week.
And both girls picked lilacs from the back yard for their teachers. Maj rinsed her flower offering in the sink and held it faaaaaaaaar away from her face so as to minimize the sneezing.
We home-schooled last year.
You know what I got for Teacher Appreciation Week last year?
Not a fucking thing.
Sigh.
I maybe need a nap.
So, oddly enough I was reading PAT over the weekend and saw the quotes. I thought “Oh, interesting.”
And then I thought “I bet they never get updated anyway.” So I vowed not to look at them again for fear I’d be disappointed.
I’m honestly quite scared to submit this comment. Should I go buy something from the Amazon store to make up for it? Or just write your hubs a nasty letter for being stupid while you were in a bad mood?
You are reading them? Really? That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Maybe I will update them later today.
Because I like them.
Oh wait, I forgot to mention how much I would appreciate nasty letter addressed to Mark!
Also? The Amazon stuff is Mark’s attempt to monetize my blog. It is going swimmingly. I believe I mentioned somewhere else that I have made a grand total of $1.20 from a reader’s amazon purchase of a flashlight.
I am not sure that Amazon and I are meant to be business partners.
Oh, I love me a good quote. My personal email currently says “Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t. – Margaret Thatcher”
It’s a quiet Fuck You to my Step-Mother-In-Law.
Also, while I’m not scared of you, I was concerned that my comment might be piling on with the “you’re so behind” type sentiment. Which was not my intent. But there are days I would have read that comment (were I you) and thought “Cram it, you unhelpful twit.”
I’ll get right on that email.
PS My husband at the brilliant idea to monetize my blog. I should take all the blogs out there and make a superblog that you can ONLY ACCESS through the superblog because the other pages would be inaccessible otherwise. And then you could charge a ton to advertise on the superblog bc it would get so much traffic. I was just like “Yeah….that’s not how the internet works.”
Mark says to tell your husband that he is a genius!
Mark thinks I should just start a coup of Top Mommy Blogs (which is pretty much the superblog your husband envisions).
The best fuck you is a literary fuck you, I always like to say.
Literary is good!
Literal also good sometimes, however.
OK, the quotes are staying!
Because many of my quotes are actually quiet “Fuck-You’s” to un-named annoying people in my life.
I didn’t know anyone else did that!
I am kinda scared to post this too, but I never noticed the quotes till you said something in this post. I need to pay better attention!
People! I am not scary!
Crabby, but not scary.
I just bit off the head of my husband because he road bus into town to deliver something but it turned out that he had forgotten it at home. Thus I have to drive him back out and in, which defeated the whole purpose of him riding the damn bus. On the drive, he wonders what is wrong with me. CRABBY, I say, no worries. Then he wants to know why, what happened, what can we do to change it. At which point I screamed, DON’T FORGET THINGS. To which he said, god you are crabby. Sigh. My point. After that he was quiet.
Then I come to my office, pop up your post and read.
And I say, EXACTLY MY FRIEND, EXACTLY!
~K
(PS. I love the quotes, but I am a quotes person. I, however, did not think you had forgotten to update them, I just assumed the program you were using had not refreshed the quote and wondered if I should tell you. I didn’t.)
We are like sisters!
I do not understand why Mark cannot just accept that I am telling the truth when I announce that I am crabby.
Why would I lie?
But he always feels the need to interact, to gauge for himself, and make his own conclusions. And that conclusion is always that I am crabby.
Which I believe I mentioned.
And thank you for the quote love!
I am feeling crabby, in fact, I had a monumentally crappy week-end. So, I had a nap and I’m still crabby – even worse since I always wake up from a nap a little crappy, like a toddler.
Leave the quotes! I love the quotes!
YES! Naps are lovely, but transitioning out of happy nap to cheerful awake is always tricky.
“Like a toddler” — LOVE that!
Another vote for the quotes!
I propose that you fill the hole with a “curse word of the day” section. Then we call all leave comments and outdo each other with using it in a sentence. It would be good fun. ;)
But the quotes are good, too.
You should do that on your blog!
Because you have a little bit of badness in you wanting to get out, I think.
I love this idea. Someone should DEFINITELY start it.
Nichole? Ball’s in your court. You know you want to do it.
***contemplating***
I hate it when people ask me what is wrong when I JUST FUCKING SAID I WAS IN A BAD MOOD. It’s irritating. If I wanted to share why I was in a bad mood, I would say “Baby, guess why I’m in a bad mood?” And then I would tell him. But when I say “OH MY GOD I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING AND I’M IN A BAD MOOD” there is absolutely zero reason for anyone to then say “What’s wrong” unless they want me to punch them in their gullet.
Phew. That felt good. Not as good as a gullet punch, but good.
Another thing I hate?
When I say, “I just need to be by myself for a little bit.”
Ummmmm . . . Mark?
WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?
How about a “click if you give a fucking shit” button and that’ll pull up the quote of the day?
Deb has her days when she needs some alone time. Play the mommy card and take a time out.
Also, I think that flashlight was my purchase. I had to buy a new one for work since some fuckhead stole mine. I don’t mind people taking shit from work. Paper for your printer, some pens… it’s not MINE directly. If it’s on my desk, chances are it’s MINE. Don’t fuck with it. Now that it’s gone off my desk, they can use it for an ass plug for all I care. The new one I bought is better anyway.
The girls won their softball tournament which started Friday night. WTF! Who starts a ball game for kids at 6:30pm on a field with no lights? Whatever. They played Friday night, Saturday late morning and Sunday late morning. Undefeated, they got their cute little pink softball trophies. Now they can continue the “real” season.
<3 you all and say hi to Mark and the girls.
I am not going to put up a “click if you give a fucking shit” button, because if I were to ever see a button like that on another blog? I would so not click it. Because in general? I do not give a shit.
And I suspect my readers are the same . . . including you!
Congratulations on the softball tournament! I saw Debby’s posting on Facebook as well.
Do not even think about returning that flashlight, or all my work will have been for nothing!
And if you use that flashlight as an ass plug? I do not even want to hear about it.
Love to all of you!
i love the quotes! i’m always looking for a good quote for my facebook status and sheepishly admit to copping a few of yours…
and yeah, why the hell do guys think they can “fix” our crabbiness? just leave me the fuck alone – i’m crabby!!!
I love you guys!
Quotes are staying!
I want to be able to leave Paint comments.
But it’s be better if it was REAL paint and not that stupid Windows program.
Spray-painted comments would be amazing!
Especially if the blog really sucked. Not that any of them do, mind you.
Just saying.
haven’t read in awhile just catching the latest. you get a big fat HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA(stop for a breath)HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH from me! killin me!!! I love Mark’s helpful comments surprised he doesn’t have more smack down scars by now.
Hey, sister! Love that I made you laugh!
Mark has many smack-down scars . . . mostly of the internal emotional sort. I try not to leave marks.
He is so lucky to have me.
I hate to bust your bubble, but I totally give a shit. Also, my husband would never try to monetize my blog because he wants me to quit wasting my time on said blog and write the great American novel and make a gazillion dollars so he can retire. He SO does not understand publishing, because a) I’m a memoirist, not a novelist and b) I stand to make more like a bajillion dollars, not a gazillion and c) seriously?
So our husbands now have two things in common: steady temperaments and unrealistic money-from-the-wife’s-writing aspirations. Also, nobody read the quotes on my blog, either. I assumed it was because they were too enchanted by my wordly wonderfulness to give a shit what anyone else had to say, just as we, here, are caught up in your bloggish fabulosity.
Your husband and my husband have much in common. Mark seems to think that now that I have committed to the blog and have achieved small amount of success, offers and cash should start rolling in. He also thinks I should write a book, and I have repeatedly offered to staple all of these blog posts together for him.
Sigh. I do love him.
Also love “bloggish fabulosity,” you wordsmith, you.
WOW… you MUST be in a bad mood if you mentioned she who won’t be named… But I think she may be dead… Unlike you, who is very much alive, crabby, and keeping us coming back for more everyday, even when crabby! Perhaps you could start putting some of your girls quotes on your page every now and then… they’ve had some good ones that are literally very literary… and I defiantly mean that…definitely! :P
I have decided that Miss Allie Brosh has now gotten soooooo huge that there is no point in hiding her anymore.
She is pretty great.
I have alot of love for her. Also? Alot of envy.
Careful… those envy alots can be dangerous… not at all as cute as those love alots!
P.S. Loved the fight-ball… got scared there for a second that you might have moved past “inspired by” to “plagiarist.” … but your artwork was not at all badly drawn, so it did not apply!
P.S.S. Another tooth came out… what’s with that? Boy, am I grateful to friends who frequent the right places! The TF says, “Merci!”
I was going to “borrow” a fight-ball from Calvin and Hobbes (I love them!), but then figured I could scribble.
That is likely to be the extent of my cartooning on this blog.
Unless another fight-ball depiction is required.
(If you don’t know what we’re talking about, check out Fight-Balls and Trophy Families.)
Pass along congrats on the lost tooth!!!
I don’t know why you don’t already have a book! Have you ever read Stuart McLean? He writes in a similar style, although with less sarcasm and certainly no curse words, but the format is the same. What I mean is, his books are collections of small, self-contained stories following a family, which I find them entertaining. I could absolutely see your blog posts transformed into a book. I would buy it!
I have read Stuart McLean, and I like him very much.
If only getting a book published was just a matter of having a manuscript!
Then I (and about a million other deserving but unpublished) writers would be all set.
I appreciate the love, though! SO much!
And if you do know editors with wand for magic dream granting, please forward contact info ASAP!
At least Mark reads your blog, my boyfriend refuses…fucker… Anyways, you should do whatever makes you happy. Oh, and what is with men and not listening when you say you are in a bad mood???
Mark LOVES reading my blog! Slightly less joyful when he doesn’t come off all glowy and perfect, but he loves the blog.
As for men generally? They are problem solvers, apparently. That’s what Mark says. A lot.
I don’t think I mentioned that I love that you swear on your blog. Super-sweet blogland could use a little more of that. How about a string of curse-words and ill wishes in the quote section? Entertaining for me, and cathartic for you. Win-win. PS: I do like quotes, by the way.
I have taken some crap for the swearing, but I think of the blog as my internal thought-processes.
Thought bubbles, if you will.
And in my thought bubbles? LOTS of swearing.
In regular life? Much more G-rated.
And what’s better than win-win? Nothing, that’s what!