Waiting on the posse
NaBloPoMo fail. That would be me.
So! What happens when you skip a day during NaBloPoMo? Do they take your blog away? Are you hunted down and beaten with an old keyboard? Or perhaps a whip made of mouse … mice … mouses … computer clicky thingies? Are you blacklisted in the blogging world and never allowed to become famous? (But, but … I wanna be like Dooce!) Would you forever be denied access to any bloggy convention-type thing that you might want to attend? Are all your readers forced to leave you and never ever return under penalty of pain? (You know, like in Princess Bride, where they fight “to the pain” instead of “to the death”? Anyone?)
This is kind of entertaining, imagining what my punishment might be, as I sit here and wait for the NaBloPoMo SWAT to storm the library and cart me away.
In all seriousness, though, I don’t even have a good excuse. Isn’t that sad? Basically last night I was tired and busy and cranky (gotta love that PMS, don’t we, ladies) and it was Grey’s Anatomy night and Grey’s Anatomy night must always be reverently observed NO MATTER WHAT and I have momentarily run out of pre-written drafts to post. Pathetic.
[And now for a tangent!]
I am conducting very highly scientific research on which brand of hot chocolate is THE BEST hot chocolate and this, that I have today, is some Ghirardelli gourmet double chocolate something-or-other and it kind of tastes like yuck. Hello, chocolate, you are bitter. I don’t drink coffee because I don’t like the bitter so methinks this one is a fail. But I have to finish it because it used a whole cup of milk and MY GOD, DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE MILK IS.
I should really write all my posts first thing in the morning when I’m all hopped up on sugar because the only thing that has gone into my body today is chocolate. WEEEE!
[Excuse me while I place a phone call. My boyfriend has an extremely hard time waking up in the morning and during the time we’ve been together has apparently forgotten how an alarm clock functions. Or perhaps he just thinks that I am now his personal talking alarm clock.]
Wow. I just went back and read what I’ve written so far. Caps lock, it is my friend.
[How about another tangent!]
Ooh, guess what’s on the agenda tonight? I am cooking dinner for my boyfriend. And this, it is the first time I will have done so. Who’s nervous, anyone? OOH OOOH, that would be ME! Over here! I’m a pretty decent cook, and a very good baker, if I may be allowed to toot my own horn a bit. But I can just see the chicken burning and the potatoes being raw in the middle and him, like, being allergic to something in the salad … basically, it would be a disaster never before seen outside of a sitcom.
I know this won’t actually happen though. I’m a better cook than THAT. I’m trying out a new recipe, oven fried parmesan chicken, and all the reviews on the website said it was pretty much the best thing that person had ever tasted before in their life, EVER. I’m hoping that’s the case. If it really is that extraordinary, I’ll share it.
If you’re still reading, I’d just like to say that you are awesome. And I am crazy. And now you have proof! Yee-haw.