I’ve been a member of the Facebook group Ultimate Blog Challenge for a couple of months and finally decided to take up the thrown gauntlet and write 30 blog posts in 30 days. Why? Because I’m friggin’ crazy, that’s why! I started contemplating why one side of my brain signed up while the other half was either watching Paranormal State, getting my drunk on with crown’n’coke, or other equally valuable and community improving activities (I’m a socially responsible deviant and believe in teaching the younger generation how to be a non-productive adult).
1. I was bored. Between stuffing food into my son’s face 24/7 (really, the kid will eat 25 hours a day if you let him – how he stays skinny is one of the greatest mysteries of the universe), I must also assist him with completing 48 piece puzzles, decorate the sidewalk with chalk to ward off evil spirits and soil the lazy mail-person’s impeccable shoes, wash a sink full of dishes by hand at least once a day (nope, no modern conveniences for this freak of feminism!) and cook a healthy AND tasty meal for the Benevolent Benefactor (he’s hella demanding, the bastard).
2. It’s easier than taking a shower. In the rare moments that I’m not waiting on my child hand and foot, I sneak away for a bit of “me time.” And instead of turning my attention to personal hygiene, I opt to nurture my damn blog. I figure that eventually, I will become a universally known and loved blogger where people throw real money at me in appreciation of my wittiness and pure awesomeness. I’ll then be able to enslave an assistant into caring for my beloved blog. I will then spend my days soaking in a jetted garden tub, eating bon bons and dictating my blog posts to my assistant.
3. It beats getting a “real” job. Who really wants to go to company picnics or dinner parties and bore everyone with the same old boring chit chat about some lame ass job like heart surgeon, child psychologist, or international spy? When I mention I am a famous (in my own fantasy, but they don’t hear that part) blogger, I suddenly have everyone’s attention. Finally, I get the envious dagger-eyed stares and hateful rumors started about me that I rightfully deserve. These small town bumpkins are so one dimensional. I may have to move to a large city so I can garner the devotion of worthy admirers who drop to their knees and worship at my flip flop shrouded feet (maybe I could convince one of them to give me a pedi while they’re down there).
4. It’s cool. Seriously. Right now, Arizona is hotter than Satan’s asshole after an evening of judging a Hot Damn! Chili Cook-off. Instead of going outside and spontaneously combusting from sun exposure, I’ve decided to sit in my air conditioned palace and whine about the heat in ALL of my Facebook status updates. If I could compose a brilliant and witty tweet, I’d probably be tweeting about it as well.
5. I can impress my imaginary friends. My family refuses to read my blog (why I haven’t taken advantage of this and written about all the injustices they assault me with, I dunno) and all my friends are bloggers well on their way to becoming (in)famous so they have no time to bother with a nobody like me. So, I pretend to be important and share my own special brand of “taco bliss” (stolen from another epic blogger, Cyndi), with my hordes of imaginary friends who ALWAYS have time to listen to my hilarious stories, rants, and fantastic blogging ideas. They are so good to me, offering up encouragement and hanging on to every little lie I try to pass off as gospel. I won’t tell if you don’t.
6. My husband has something else to complain about. I’ve almost mastered the art of tuning out my husband as he complains about my lack of dedication to personal hygiene, the hastily thrown together slop I like referring to as “dinner” or my fantastically executed thwarting of his sexual advances. Even the most highly trained military generals would be impressed with my strategically planned avoidance maneuvers.
7. I need a break from Angry Birds. After a furious battle for the right to dominate the iPad (I usually win by sitting on the child and yanking it from his hands as his cries are muffled by my cellulite enhanced thigh), I hide in the closet for hours and play Angry Birds until the screams of the pissed off red bird give away my location. It’s ok, I needed a break to work out the kinks in my hands and probably should have gone pee about an hour ago.
8. Better than housework. When I married this guy (he still thinks I was kidding when I told him no several times, it was the ultimatum that finally won me over), I warned him that I was about as domesticated as Ivan Trump. I don’t do windows. I don’t do toilets. I don’t attempt to clean anything that might accidentally splash on me and soil my very sensitive skin. I don’t get within an arms reach of anything that smells bad and might induce a gag reflex. And I absolutely refuse to get an animal because I would ultimately end up being the individual responsible for dealing with their anus treasures. No thank you.
9. A buttload of motivation. After witnessing the multitude of comments I harvest from posting my latest bit of dazzling blogging excellence, it encourages me to, just maybe, finish one of many novels collecting cob webs. Yes, then I could move from obscure blogger to unknown author. I must work on my literary world domination manifesto immediately!
As you can see, this Ultimate Blogging Challenge will not only be good for my blog, enhance my writing ability, but it will also embolden me to learn the art of humility and if you’re lucky, convince me that a weekly bath is a necessity for even those that are chained to their computer attempting to make a name for themselves in the blogosphere. Are you crazy enough to join in the fun? The blogging challenge, not my shower.
