First?
That crazy juggling woman over there to the right of this screen? Click on her. My ego needs stroking, and I am all annoyed every time I go to that fucking Top Mommy Blogs site and see myself losing to giveaway-review-coupon blogs.
Seriously . . . everyone above me is a free-shit whore.
No offense.
Every time, it annoys me.
Mark’s suggestion?
That I hold a post hostage until I reach some magical number of votes . . .
You want more Pretty All True? Vote to make it happen!
Mark is all evil and manipulative.
He does not seem to be aware that I am not able to keep myself from posting every day, and so the threats of withholding?
Would be empty.
Sigh.
Once a day.
Fuck.
And for those of you who have already abandoned this post because I am all whiny and demanding and forcing the clicking hardship upon you?
I am all sad that you will not be here for the next part of this post.
Which goes like this . . .
Fuck you.
OK, then. Moving on.
A warning here? I am about to be revealed as all old again.
Mark and I are sitting on a park bench yesterday as the girls play.
We are talking about what an idiot I am to have lost my wedding ring . . . again.
I am feeling defensive (because I am in the wrong), and so I say, “Yes, well . . . at least I don’t walk into the ocean all mournful and killing myself every night.”
Mark is startled, “What?”
Why must I always explain everything? So fucking annoying.
And so I give him a chance to redeem himself. I turn and look into his eyes, “Seriously? Seriously? Think, babe.”
There is so much blankness in those eyes, I cannot even tell you.
Sigh.
So I help him out, “Every night, as long as we have been married? You make a neat little pile of your belongings before you come to bed. Your glasses, folded neatly. Your wallet to the right of your glasses. And then atop your wallet? Your comb and your wedding ring. Every night. Just saying.”
He stares at me, “OK . . . and . . . .?”
“And what? Every night you do that. And every night I have a moment of sadness that you are dead.”
“Kris? You are insane. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Nope. I so do not.”
“That is not possible.”
“Really, Kris? Really? I cannot read your mind . . . it’s all scribbled and dark in there. You are actually going to have to tell me what you are talking about.”
“That movie! Coming Home . . . where Jane Fonda falls in love with Jon Voight, who is all damaged and broken and in a wheelchair. The Vietnam War movie . . . Coming Home. Duh.”
Empty blank stare.
“Remember? Jane Fonda volunteers at the rehab clinic or something. She meets Jon Voight, who is all tousle-haired and adorable in his wheelchair. And then they yell at each other a lot and then they have sex. It’s all hot and she has her first orgasm and realizes that her husband is a selfish prick? Those were some good sex scenes, as I recall. And Bruce Dern plays her husband? And he is all uptight and awful? Even though, if my wife was off discovering orgasms with Jon Voight? I would be a little pissy too. But anyway, Bruce Dern is all ruined by the war and then all ruined by his life. I think he won an award for that movie.”
“Are we going to get to the part where you make any sense?”
“Didn’t you see this movie?”
“Yeah, like forever ago.”
“Ok, so then you know.”
“Know what?”
“That you are Bruce Dern. Every fucking night. You are Bruce Dern to me. It’s OK, babe. I have learned to deal with those little nightly twinges of sorrow at your death.”
“And still? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Are other people’s husbands this stupid?
So I lay it out, “That scene . . . that heartbreaking scene where Bruce Dern piles up all of his belongings on the beach. In my memory his wedding ring is the last thing he piles. Right on top, all shiny. And then he turns and walks out into the ocean to die.”
Mark is staring at me, “How many times have you seen this move?”
“Just once, like . . . maybe thirty years ago. Why?”
“You saw a scene in a movie once, thirty years ago, and that single image stayed with you so that every time you see my ring and wallet piled up, you think for a moment that I have killed myself?”
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“You remember that, but you have lost your wedding ring . . . again.”
“And again . . . what’s your point?”
“You are not normal. That’s my point.”
We sit together and ponder that newsflash together in silence.
Later? I did find my ring, by the way. At the bottom of a pile of dirty laundry.
And last night?
Mark made the same little pile he always does. Glasses neatly folded. Wallet to the right of his glasses. Comb and wedding ring atop the wallet.
I get undressed as I stare at his belongings on the shelf.
And for a moment? Mark is gone. I miss him.
Sigh.
I need to watch that movie again.
Jon Voight?
Swoon!
And people?
I need stroking.
Ahem.
You are such a vote-whore.
And on that note, I am going to take off my ring and walk off into the shower.
Not to die, but just to get clean.
Not that there is enough soap in the world to get me clean, but you know what I mean.
I am a whore also: I wrote something pretty today. Go over and read it.
I am all whorish today.
Mark is way fucking happy.
And you?
You are all whorish today as well.
That always makes me happy.
Your post?
Beyond awesome.
Seriously . . . just beyond.
Must be something in the air today, bringing out the whore in us all.
Please, by the way. Keep fawning.
You know I’m all about the fawning.
For you?
I will fawn.
But only for you.
Because you are special.
I am, aren’t I?
And so humble, too.
Hmmm . . .
Humble is not here on my list of qualities I like in Nigel.
Handsome, Hilarious, Horny . . . and then right to Hungry.
No humble.
Everyone? People?
Take note of the skill with which Kris is using to make me all blushing and in love.
That’s the level to which you should all aspire.
Now get to work on that please.
You know there is no one else like me, babe.
Only imitators.
Free-shit whores.
No offense.
it makes me feel a little dirty to click that and go over there to vote. just to let you know.
I know.
It makes me feel icky to ask.
Sorry.
i only abandoned the post for a split second to vote. and then i came back. i’ll take funny over free shit any day.
Snort!
Thanks, you.
I am all needy.
I definitely voted. Nothing annoys me more than those stupid review blogs taking the top spots.
That’s not true, other things annoy me more. But for this comment we’ll pretend that’s my greatest annoyance in life.
Yes, I have other annoyances in my life as well.
But for today?
I am pretending this is my biggest concern.
Love you.
Juggling lady ego has been stroked. All is well.
As for Mark, just to be evil….one night hide his ring. (insert evil laugh … yes I am this lame)
He would not be fooled for an instant.
And he would be all kinds of pissed off.
Hmmmm.
Might be worth it, at that.
Snort!
I vote every day, except for the weekends because I’m not online much…and I try to remember to vote at home too, so you get double from me!!
There are a lot of things I could choose to comment on about this post…but at the forefront of my mind is this:
Why does Mark stack a comb on his wallet each night? Does his hair require that much grooming that he must carry a comb in his pocket at all times??
Mark?
Is perhaps a teeny bit obsessive.
He does not spend that much time combing his hair, but he always?
Carries a comb.
Hee hee!
And thank you for your votes, lady!
I hate asking for votes.
But then I hate not getting votes.
A vicious cycle.
Sigh.
How exactly does one vote? I can’t figure it out. Maybe it’s as easy as clicking on your logo. I wait in unbelievable anticipation every day for a new post from you and I’m diligently making my way through your archives. The least I can do is vote for you in return for my daily dose of “Kris”. BTW, I can never decide which is more enjoyable… the actual blog or the conversational comments afterwards. I’d say they tie for 1st.
If you click on the juggling woman?
Or on one of the voting links I provided in today’s post all whorishly?
It takes you to a screen that says something like, “To vote for the blog you were just reading, Click here.”
And once you click? You have voted.
That’s it.
Plus also?
I love you more than I can say.
That you are reading my archives?
Oh my goodness, that makes me happy.
Thanks, you!
Big love.
About to make myself out to be teachers pet… BUT
I vote for you every day and I do glare at all those stupid coupon review giving out blogs. Come on people, stop voting for free useless junk and vote for a blog with SUBSTANCE. Preferably not the poisonous mercury kind, but substance none the less!
I will be back to love you, teacher’s pet!
But now?
I am off to the lake with far too many children.
I will be back in a bit.
Love you!
Amy!
I have returned!
It is frustrating to lose out to free stuff. But I have found that free stuff trumps substance, every time. I have had a blog pass me in a single day and gain 100+ votes because the blogger was giving away free diaper covers.
And these “bloggers” trade votes for contest entries, so that votes on the Top Mommy Site mean the voter is more likely to win free shit.
I think that sucks.
But no one listens to me.
On the positive side? I get traffic from this site, and people come to visit me who might not have otherwise stopped by.
And then some of those people? Are all horrified and send me hate mail and leave me bad reviews.
And that part?
Is actually pretty fucking awesome.
Hee hee!
I would like to say I found your site through the mommy blogs site, and it was pretty much the only one I looked at for more than 30 seconds. I keep looking for the freaking content in the others… and finding nothing. So… I do not go to the mommy blogs site anymore (except to vote when asked to, because um, I forget…), just to Pretty All True, because I’m addicted.
YAY for addiction to Pretty All True!
That is awesome.
I WISH mu husband would make a neat little pile by the bed. Instead, he has what we call The Pen. It’s a huge mound of crap thrown on the floor next to his side of the bed. Actually, he has several Pens throughout the house. Should I be thankful it’s at least in a pile?
Snort!
The pen?
That would piss me off enormously.
Better Mark dies a little every night.
Snort!
Dies a little . . .
Snort!
La petite mort . . .
But not every night.
That would be exhausting.
Oh, I’m so glad you found your ring! It’s been caught in the whirlwind of things I sometimes worry about when Big Worries need to get the fuck away from me.
Vote? Done.
I’ve never seen that movie. But that’s the kind of image that would stick with me, too.
Only it would be wallet, jailer-style ring of keys, cell phone, utility knife.
Paranoid contractor husbands are curious animals.
I am pleased to hear that my husband is not the only one with the weird little bedtime pile of possessions.
And your 700th post?
It was amazing. It so was.
And I also shoo away Big Worries with little worries.
So thank you for voting.
Love you.
You’re welcome for the vote-whoring. For you, I will vote-whore anywhere you send me!
Love you, too!
Awww . . .thanks, sweetie you.
Thanks.
Apparently, I was in too much of a frenzied hurry to notice that it said “To vote for the blog you were just reading, Click here.” Sometimes I make things way more difficult than they need to be. It seems to catch me by surprise when something is easy. I’m always rushing to the hard part because I know my brain and ability are no longer what they used to be so I need extra time. And, this? Makes me and everyone else absolutely CRAZY. Needless to say? I think I may have voted for you more than once in my attempt to figure out how to vote in the first place. Urgh.
You are all good.
They will only allow you to vote once per day.
I know this for a fact.
Ahem.
Confession: I vote for you everyday. I am not even sure why because I think those sites are a bit weird.
Also? I remember really random stuff like movie scenes too. My students never have ANY idea what I am talking about when I start quoting and referencing things. I get the O_O look ALWAYS.
oh and Jon Voight? he he he.
The ranking sites are awful and ego-crushing, but they also bring in readers.
So there is that.
And in trying to make this blog grow?
It turns out a small bit of whoring myself is required.
Sigh.
Jon Voight?
He was lovely.
Haven’t seen much of him lately . . . I do not even want to hear about him in any way shape or form with respect to his daughter.
ICK.
is it retarded that I cannot figure out how to vote? it’s retarded. I? am retarded. why they even let me vote for the president, I’ll never know. thank god the ballots are now the size of the giant scribble pads they use in kindergarten. know why they did that? for the special kids. like me.
so, um, is there some secret to the voting? because I will vote for you until they kick me out.
also? I think Mark Ruffalo is the new Jon Voight.
If you click on the link I provided? Or on the juggling woman?
You will be prompted to “Click to Vote.”
And that’s it.
It’s confusing only in that it seems as though there should be another step.
But there is not.
If you make it to the Top Mommy Blogs website and the list of ranked blogs?
You voted.
Thanks, you.
well then I voted! yay!
YAY!
see, i was going all literary with the kate chopin reference, and then it had to be jon voight. which, i suppose, is ok, because he was wayyyyy prettier than kate chopin.
and mark ruffalo? is so the new jon voight.
Mark Ruffalo was in a terrible (but way hot) movie called “In the Cut” with Meg Ryan.
At least I think that’s what it was called.
He was all messy and sexy . . . loved that.
Since then?
Eh.
mmmm, messy and sexy. yes.
Yes.
Yummy.
In The Cut
Yes… messy and sexy and also messy and sexy. Couldn’t tell you what the plot line was to save my life – but definitely messy and sexy.
Yeah, the plot?
No clue.
But he was seriously yummy.
Awesome. After weeks of you being about 60 or so votes behind 4th place in that poll, you are now only 6 points behind. I also try to vote once at work and once from home, but it rarely works out that neatly. I’ve tried checking out those other blogs before, and honestly, I think it’s a little bogus that they’re even classified as blogs. There is no sense of getting to know the “author” or sense of community that one would expect to find on a true blog.
See? When you put out the call, your adoring public will answer. We just need a little kick in the ass sometimes. We love you!
Yes, I agree.
And I wish there was a ranking site that did not take giveaway/coupon/free-shit blogs.
One that would bring in similar traffic.
I have not found such a thing.
And I hate asking for votes more than you can possibly know. It makes me feel stupid and needy. Sigh.
So thank you for the vote.
And for the lovely words.
honestly, i thought you were going all virginia woolf. which would have been cool, too. then when i realized you were referencing Coming Home, i actually died a little, i think. my father did that exact thing, and i always thought of Coming Home. wallet and comb, and spare change, and his knife. all of which were polished before putting them down. and the bills in his wallet? each night, taken out and smoothed, corners unfolded, put back. wedding ring on top. why do men not sleep in their fucking wedding rings? and THANK FUCKING GOD my old man does not do this. come to think of it, if he did, i am certain i would not have married him. because then he would be all virgo-compulsive and it never would have worked out. ah, i really did just die a little. thanks for that. oh, and also, more evidence that we are wonder twins, separated at birth.
This?
This right here?
This little moment of connection and shared experience?
Is worth a million votes to me.
Thank you so much for this.
I love you.
i did vote. and i note that you are now
NUMBER FOUR! yippee!!
wonder twin powers, activate!
form of… a brilliant whore!
Form of brilliant whore?
Oh my god . . . I am gasping for giggly breath over here.
So much love for you.
take THAT, top coupon-mommy blogs!
a BRILLIANT WHORE is coming to get you!
Those coupon-mommy bloggers?
They are setting up a show! A mommy-blogger showdown!
Selling tickets to the show.
Guess how you win tickets?
Snort!