Seaming

It’s late. I’m late posting today, and I’m sorry. For the past week, I have been very concerned with togas. No, don’t ask. I have made two of them, and there has been patterns and thread and directions and wrong sides together and interfacings and tears and hemming and ribbon and again, seriously, you don’t want to know. I will simply submit to you that after two separate attempts at sewing classes, if there’s a way to unspeakably mangle the act of adhering two pieces of fabric together with a piece of thread, I will find it, and then I will cry about it like a little *&%#^. I’m trying hard, really, really hard, not to categorize this as a basic human failing, but at 31 I’m running out of things to be competent at, here.

I’m thinking back on my life and trying to categorize all the things I’ve done without notching some kind of catastrophic failure or humiliation along the way. So far, the Success List includes:

1) Braiding my own hair

I’ll get back to you when the togas are pressed, but I don’t have hopes of that going very going well, either. I’ve managed to anger the iron, somehow. All I did to it was plug it in, and it started beeping in an extremely pissed manner. I’ll get back to you on this once I’ve apologized.

turning in basic humanity competency card at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

Now, Quite Posssibly, Jammin’ on the Two

JamsBio has promoted me to writing for the Biolog on the front page. I’ll be posting there twice a week . So far, I’ve already settled the very serious matters of the world’s best road trip songs and how to Parrothead. Clearly, this is a win-win-win-win. Not sure, exactly, who’s doing the winning, but somebody out there…is.

windshield wipers slappin’ out a tempo at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

For Real

Andy Dehnart of realityblurred.com joins us from 7 PM-7:30 PM Eastern tonight on Blonde Champagne Radio. We’ll talk reality TV season finales and the upcoming summer season and WHAT IN THE WORLD is going on with bachelorette fashion sense.

UPDATE If you missed the show–and really, how can you live with yourself?– the archive is here. Thanks to all who tuned in.

staged at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

At Arlington

You are lions to little me, and what’s more, you never thought of yourselves as such.

You stood in straight lines at attention where my legs buckle with fear, with fatigue, with laziness.

You stayed kept your politics to yourself so that I might speak of reality television and infomercials.

You bent with the weight of heavy gear and heavy responsibility so that I could stand impatiently in amusement park ride lines, cell phone in one hand, cold drink in the other.

Your family followed you without complaint so that I can lay my head down at night without any real concern as to whether or not mine is safe.

You drank dirty, warm water so that I could have my choice of bottled Perrier in the endless aisles of a well-swept grocery store.

You submitted to the orders of others so that I can pick up and lay down work at will.

You stayed up all night, watching, so that I could sleep in and roll my eyes at the cost of a Frappuccino.

You missed the birth of your first child so that I could weep over not having had a vacation in the past year.

You put your entire career on hold so that I could fret over the low pay for freelance writers these days.

You endured desert heat so that I could smack at the thermostat and make a single phone call to fix it.

You live in assigned quarters, tents even, so that I could complain about property taxes.

You took hauled crates of humanitarian aid into Jeeps so that I could tap the softness of my arms and complain about the terrible shape I was in–how fat, how underdeveloped.

You drove tanks into sniper fire so that I could look around the quiet streets of my small suburb and say, “There’s nothing going on around here.”

You put off higher education so that I could gnash my teeth over my alma mater’s poor football showing.

You shivered in driving rains so that I could tell everyone from my heated home that I was having trouble adjusting to these terrible Virginia winters after five years in Florida.

You climbed into fighter jets so that I could balk at the poor customer service of the airlines.

You read technical manuals so that I could kill twenty minutes with a gardening magazine.

You deferred credit to others when I said, “Why aren’t I famous yet?”

You ate another MRE so I could sigh over microwaved leftovers from a bulging refrigerator.

You said, “Give me a gun,” when I said, “But a rerun of Golden Girls is on.”

You said, “I’ll go,” when I said, “I’m too important here.”

You said, “Send me,” when I said, “I’m afraid to die.”

You said, “For others,” when I said, “For me.”

And I thank you.

very grateful at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

Bustin’ Out of Beta

It’s been very quietly in beta for the past week, but if you haven’t noticed the new little link over the left hand side there, go ahead on. Look at it! LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK AT IT! That’s the signup for Tasting Notes, a new weekly newsletter that’s going to provide The Readers with a roundup of links, updates, and videos.

Only occasionally do I direct you to JamsBio, Freelance Switch, or Along The Rails, but the newsletter will contain links to everything I’ve hurled against the cyberwall in the past seven days. And I promise that the good folks at Morning Works Media won’t sell, trade, smoke, or laugh at your information. This is just between you and me, dear ones.

I know I’m hard to keep track of. I’m never home, and you’re just left sitting there all day with the kids, cooking my meals and folding my socks, wondering when I’ll call. This will help keep us in touch, and… and… Iwon’tfeelsoguilty.

I’ve just seen the first roundup of links, and it’s a little frightening to digest how many sites I’m writing for at once. Like the reviews of Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, emotions are mixed: very deep gratitude that anybody wants to pay me at all to write, and frustration that economics dictates becoming the writing version of a short-order cook, cranking out tons of shorter pieces on many sites at once just to keep my head tilted above water. I want to write everybody a gourmet meal that takes weeks and weeks to prepare, but– you don’t really like white asparagus tips sauteed in ostrich calves anyway, do you?

coveting leaving the office at the office at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

His Holy Halfpipe

Here is a lovely Victorian painting of St. Joseph, the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Child Jesus, and the Child Jesus’ snowboard:

What seals it is the nervous attitude of Mary: “Oh, dear. I just know He’s going to dump some fresh powder so He can jib off the side of the house and frontside ollie into some sick 1080’s before He air-to-fakies down the halfpipe.” And Joseph’s like, “Well, if He breaks an arm, that’ll learn Him, and He’ll just instantaneously heal it anyway.”

straight to at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

The Many Perils Of Barely-Quasi-Fame

Bill Corbett has something to say about me. And the Jolly Green Giant’s boy parts. But there’s no connection. I hope.

calling her people at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

At the Banquet Table

Since the National Honor Society event last week was closed, here’s your very own video of the performance. I do hope you can make out what I am saying, for the sound system had two settings: BLLLLLAAAAARRRRE! and “…Wha’d she say?”

Anyway, you will notice I am wearing the same dress I did for my wedding rehearsal dinner, which makes two re-wearings of a bridesmaid’s dress, which is two re-wearings above the national average. Basically, I enjoy busting it out because it’s from Julie The Nephew Mama’s wedding eight years ago, and I cherish the fact that I can still somehow zip it with minimum wriggling. I might not wear it again, though, because when I saw the first few seconds of my appearance video, I felt very sad that my butt looks so big in it, until Josh pointed out that it might be because at the time my butt was, in fact, about an inch and a half from the lens, and nobody looks good flailing her way to a podium when her name is called just as she hits an ice cube in her water glass.

honoring at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

On Being a Blogger Media Person

Yesterday’s appearance on “Extraordinary Life” has been archived. I come in at the twelve-minute mark. Thanks to all who tuned in.

And! Oh, The Corbett Of It All goes down TONIGHT at 8 PM Eastern. How I’d love it if you joined us.

show prep at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

Welcome MSNBC.com Readers

It’s not the article. It’s the word count.