Category Archives: Blogging

Part Two: The Interview

A few weeks before BlogHer, Leah had asked me if I’d be willing to do a video interview for Alpha Mom. I was excited, because no one EVER asks me for interviews (I mean, why would they? Seriously? What am I going to talk about? Aerobic Dancing?)
We tried to make plans to meet somewhere for the interview, but it never worked out, so I was all “Let’s do it at BlogHer!”
Next thing I know, I’m scheduled for a 3:30 interview in Leah’s hotel room.
I was nervous. Very nervous. For one, there’s the whole weight issue. (OMG! THE CAMERA ADDS 10 POUNDS!) Then, the fact that I spit when I talk whilst excited (Don’t believe me? Ask Amy! Also? I fart when overstimulated (Don’t believe me? Lassa or Jen how many times I excused myself to go “rip one” on the balcony.) But mostly, I was nervous about not having anything intelligent or insightful to say.
When I arrived at the hotel, I was met by Alpha Mom Herself, Isabel Kallman (Love.Her. FO FUH-KEENG!), a camera man whose name I forgot, Leah and Jesus!
Jesus, the makeup arteest.
I was shocked to find out that there would be a “professional makeup artist” taking care of my face painting needs. Knowing that my makeup would be done by a professional put me somewhat at ease because at least I’d look SMASHING if I accidently let one rip.
Jesus invited me to sit on the toilet (WHAT?! No chair with my name on it?!) so that he could make me pretty. As I sat there, talking with him, asking him for makeup tips (because LORD KNOWS I NEED THEM.) I have to admit that I felt so special.
And I wanted to cry.
Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent to Isabel yesterday.
(OMG! CHEESE ALERT! CHEESE ALERT! FOR IT IS CHEESY)
I’ve never felt very smart, I’ve always struggled with feelings of “not being good enough.” I often feel as though good things happen to everyone else and that good things don’t happen to me because I simply don’t deserve them.
Being apart of the interviews made me feel like I was part of something really special and my God, it felt good. I wanted to cry as I was sitting there having my makeup done because I felt so damn special.
I know it’s cheesy and that you may have just thrown up in your mouth a little when you read that, but that’s how I felt.
I BLAME JESUS. With his pretty eyelashes and soft hands. JESUS MADE ME CRY!
After the makeup was done, the camera man showed me how to put on my mic (OMG! I got to wear a mic! Just like the kids from The Real World do!)and I took my seat next to Leah. I was more terrified then ever because OH MY GOD I WAS WEARING A MIC! And there were lights! And a camera! And *pfffffffffrattata* YOU WANT ME TO GIVE YOU A HOT PARENTING TIP?
I’m not going to give away the questions, or the answers. You’ll have to wait to see them, BUT! I will tell you that at one point in the interview, Leah asked me about my Aerobic Dancing and I was overcome with so much excitement that my mouth started to water, I jumped up out of my seat, kicked the chairs out of the way and was all “WANT ME TO SHOW YOU THE MONKEY?”
I can’t blame “the liquor” because it was only 4 in the afternoon and I hadn’t even had a drink yet. That was ALL ME, people. I can’t help it, I’m obsessed (and perhaps, also posessed) with The Aerobic Dance.
The most akward part of the interview was when we had to stare at each other for the “fade out.” The first time, I looked away and they were all “We have to stare for the fade out.” And I was like “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
They were totally serious.
Oh! Oh! And then? GET THIS! We had to do these “fake nod” shots. People! FAKE.NOD.SHOTS.
I’m pretty sure it went a little something (or quite possibly EXACTLY) like this.
Camera man: Give me a “Funny” nod
Me:
Camera man: Um, ok, now give me a “surprised nod”
Me:
Camera man: Now, give me a “serious” nod.
Me:
HA! HA! HA! HA! And also “OMG! This is going to be on Alpha mom!”
Had someone told me that I’d have to be doing a little bit of “acting”, I would have brushed up on my TOTALLY NON EXISTENT acting skills.
As soon as the interview is up, I’ll pass the link along to you, because you KNOW you can’t wait to see it.
(But, um, there’s always the chance that I’ll “forget” to tell you about it.)
Stay tuned for Part Three: The Accidental Drunk.

BlogHer: Part one of quite possibly 8 parts.

My husband never calls in sick for work. He’s an incredibily dedicated employee. (Unlike myself, whose sick time was in the NEGATIVE when I quit after 14 years of employment.) When suggested that he call in sick on Friday so that he could watch the kids for me while I was on my way to San Jose to “learn more about blogging”, he almost threw up.
After a little begging, he agreed to do it. Luckily, he got “severe cramps” and “felt like he had to poop.” I say “luckily” because he was feeling bad about himself for lying and the cramps and poop made him feel as though calling in sick was totally justified.
We woke G-Unit up, got her dressed, rushed out the door at 5:30 (IN THE MORNING!) and headed out to pick up Amy. You see, Amy was The Lucky One who got to fly to San Jose with me. And when I say “Lucky” I mean, totally not lucky at all because traveling with me is a horrifying experience. Horrifying because I freak the hell out about everything because I am paranoid because I always think bad things are going to happen because I always think that I lost something.
And then there’s the whole “I have to pee every 2 minutes” thing.
This is me, traveling.
“OH MY GOD! I THINK I FORGOT MY WALLET!”
“OH MY GOD! MY TICKET! I THINK I FORGOT IT!”
“OH MY GOD! I HAVE TO PEE AGAIN EVEN THOUGH I’VE ALREADY PEED 3 TIMES IN THE PAST 20 MINUTES BUT OMG! WHAT IF THEY START TO BOARD THE PLANE WHAT SHOULD I DO?!”
“OH MY GOD! I WANT A COFFEE, BUT THAT WILL MAKE ME HAVE TO PEE AND STUFF AND OMG! SHOULD I JUST DRINK TEA?”
“OH MY GOD, I THINK I LOST MY PHONE EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO REASON TO THINK THAT OTHER THAN I HAVEN’T FREAKED OUT IN THE LAST 3 MINUTES AND I NEED SOMETHING TO FREAK OUT ABOUT.”
See? Lucky Amy, indeed!
I waited until we were on the plane to mention that I’m TERRIFIED of flying, but lucky for everyone on that plane, the flight was smooth and turbulence free. (For had it not been, I would have been forced to scream out “Oh Jesus please save us!” whilst bursting into “OMG! We’re going to die” tears of fear. And if you think I’m lying, you can ask my dad who once said that I become “very spiritual” on airplanes.)
(Apparently, I’m in love with the word “lucky” today. Lucky internet!)
Once we arrived in San Jose, we made a mad dash for the ground transportation area so that we could find the free hotel shuttle. (A free shuttle! Lucky us!) We waited for a few minutes when a minivan pulled up ready to take us to the hotel. However, on our way out of the airport, he made another stop to pick up another group of people.
I have a confession. The shuttle driver asked us to move to the back so that the people could get into the van and I ignored him because I was all “WE WERE HERE FIRST! WE GET DIBS ON THE SEAT AND I REFUSE TO MOVE TO THE BACK!” I got out so that he could lift the seats and the other people could hop on into the van.
The back of the van.
I heard one of the girls in the back say that she was here for a blogging convention.I whipped my head around and was all “So are we!” Then, I realized, to my horror, that the woman that I had made crawl into the back of the van was Motherhood Uncensored and I felt like the biggest asshole in the world because I MADE A PREGNANT LADY CRAWL INTO THE BACK OF THE VAN!
(That the first of many times that I’d feel like a giant asshole that weekend.)
(A minivan full of bloggers, LUCKY SHUTTLE DRIVER!)
Once we arrived at the hotel, I immediately began frantically scanning the place for bloggers and also friends. The first person I saw was Jen. I have no idea why, but I expected her to be loud and hyper, but strangely, she was quiet and calm. Unlike me, who was all “OMG! Jen! DANCE OFF BIOTCH.” (Because, you know how I get overly excited very easily? Yeah.) She was like “Yeah, um, can I get a room first and then we’ll talk about that dance off” (Only, she didn’t really say that, but I’m pretty sure she was thinking it.)
We made our way to our room at the GHETTO HOTEL, put our stuff down and decided to go back out and see if we couldn’t find some bloggers to hug and stuff.
We found the conference hall and I was immediately rushed by a bunch of screaming fans.
HA! HA! I’m lying! No one even knew who we were. We were all walking around like “Um, where do we go and where are all of the bloggers that we know and OMG! THERE ARE GIANT BAKE POTATOES AND ARE WE ALLOWED TO EAT THEM?”
Finally, I saw someone that I knew. OMG! JENN!, then OMG! ZOOT then OMG! Lisa Stone! then OMG! Lena! then “OMG! GRACE DAVIS!
It was insane. There was hugging and screaming and “OMG”ing and laughing and (silent farting because OMG! THE EXCITMENT!)
From the moment I had arrived at the hotel, I had been trying to call Amalah because she TOLD ME TO CALL HER to let her know when I arrived. She wasn’t answering and I was like “Oh hell no she isn’t going to ignore me.”
So, I kept calling and calling and she kept NOT answering and NOT answering. Then, this one time, there were all of these amazing women around me and we were talking and laughing and I tried calling again and as the phone was ringing, I felt someone brush up against me and I looked and it was Amalah standing right next to me and I was all “OMIGAWD! LOOK! I’M ON THE PHONE CALLING YOU! HOW CERAAAAZY IS THAT?”
Amy and I finally decided that we needed to eat because we were hungry and did I mention there were giant baked potatoes? Because there were giant baked potatoes.
And sourcream, and bacon and cheese and also? Fried chicken.
I have to admit, I felt completely self conscience about eating in front of all of these women who knew about my struggles with weight. I was like “If they see me eating a baked potato loaded with cheese and bacon, they’re going to be all ‘no wonder she’s still fat'” (And if you’ve seen the pictures, you know that I am still fat and that no! My stomach is NOT TONED NOR MUSCULAR.)
So, I cut the giant potato in half so as to not feel too bad about eating it, even though it killed me to watch the other half fall into the trash can.
(OMG! This is going to take forever, I haven’t even got to the part where we start drinking yet, I mean, I’m still writing about the first 20 minutes after arriving there! I am going to have to devide it into parts. This post will be part one. LUCKY YOU!)
As I was scarfing down my H-A-L-F of a baked potato, I got a text message that said these exact words “OMG. I saw you walk in but didn’t say hi.”
(I had only discovered that my cheap ass prepaid phone had text messaging capabilities and so I have to admit that the text messaging made me feel as though I was The Shit.)
I wrote back and was all “OMG, why didn’t you? And um, who’s this?”
It was HeatherB and so I freaked and was all “Where are you?” and she was all “by the pool.”
So, me and Amy left for the pool to find Heather. Once we got to the pool, I saw a group of women sitting by the pool and it struck me that I had NO IDEA what Heather looked like. So, because I am totally cool and know how to play things off, I stopped and pretended to be text messaging someone and I asked Amy if the women at the pool were looking at me. She was all “Um, I think so” and I was all “Crap, I have no idea what Heather looks like.” And I continued to pretend to be texting someone and she was all “Yeah, they’re looking at you.”
Then, I heard someone scream “YYYYYYVONNNNNNNEEEE.”
Next thing I know, Mir and Chris were running towards me. OMG! MIR! AND CHRIS! And, OMG! CARMEN!(Who did NOT AT ALL make me nuts, silly woman!)
I totally admitted that I was fake texting because I had no idea what Heather looked like and they’re all “NERD! Heather’s right there!”
Lucky for me, they knew her and I could stop the text messaging charade. (LUCKY!)
We stayed and chatted for a few minutes, then we had to head back to the room because I had been scheduled to do a video interview with Leah for Alpha Mom TV.
(Which. IMAGINE THAT. ME. DOING AN ON CAMERA INTERVIEW.)
I was extremely nervous about doing an on camera reason for many reasons.
a)My weight.
b)Um, gas.
c)I spit when I talk when I am excited. (Seriously, ask Amy. p.s. SORRY AMY.)
d)I am not very smart and um, what the hell do I know about anything really?
e)I do not know how to apply my makeup.
HOWEVER! When I got to the room, I was shocked to find out that my makeup was going to be PROFESSIONALLY DONE.
Me and Jesus.By a man named Jesus.
Jesus was pretty and he was gay and he thought I was cute. What more could I have asked for in a professional makeup artist? (Oh! I know! That he brush his teeth after he ate his lunch because I am sensitive to smell and I had to fight the urge to dry heave everytime he talked really close to my face.)
Now. The Interview. [Janice from friends voice]Oh.My.God[/Janice from friends voice.] People, I danced aerobically during the interview. Yeah.
I think I’ll make The Interview “Part Two” because a)I’m tired of typing b)G-unit woke up from her nap and is running around naked screaming c) I think my ass may explode any minute now (Which hahaha, wait til I tell you about the ass explotion in Amalahs hotel room.)
LUCKY AMY!

(omg! She’s writing about not being able to write!)

I’m currently suffering from Severe WannaBe Writers Block.
I sat down at least 5 times yesterday to write about such things as “my husband taking the coaching of city basketball WAY too seriously.”
“The planning of The Passion Party and how my friend suggested we should serve “Weenies and beans” and how she was completely serious and not even aware of how HILARIOUS it was that she suggested “WEENIES” for a party about and for weenies.”
“me getting served at the gym last night when a little old lady put me to shame by lifting 10 pound weights with ease while I struggled with my 5 pounders and how I kinda wanted to kick her where babies come out for making me feel bad about myself even though she was just doin’ her thang.”
“Connie Chung. (Ok, and also Maury Povich.”)
“when I told a certain comedian friend of mine who shall remain nameless that I put a little weight back on, his response was “Lose the weight. No excuses. Not fucking one. Lose the weight” and how I wigged the HELL out and went all “typical woman” on him and started to cry because how dare he not comfort me and offer me a virtual (*(*(*(*HUG*)*)*)*)”
And I sat here for hours, unable to put any of those things into a coherent post. And then I lost my shit, said a lot of “F” words and called my computer a bitch. I felt so bad because, seriously, is it the computers fault? IS IT? Of course it isn’t, so I apologized and we both cried a little because it’s not anyone’s fault.
WannaBe Writers Block happens, man. It just happens.

)$)^*(&)*&@*^#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( And, also, Y IS BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC ALERT )

I do believe my computer has been hit with a virus or some sort of nasty spyware.
Photos and porn videos are being imported into my photo editor and it’s exporting MY pictures and renaming them with things like “Gayporn” and “big tits”. I feel sick to my stomach because the ONLY thing that matters to me on this computer are my pictures and it would seem that they are being destroyed as I type this.
Also? My computer is freezing up and getting a bunch of error messages, so, I’m pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before the entire computer is gone.
And, once that happens, it will be the end of this blog and of all my flickr-ing because a new computer is out of the question.
I’m trying not to cry, but, yeah, that’s not working because I can’t imagine all of the pictures of my children being GONE. I am so pissed off that this has happened and nothing I’ve tried to do to stop it is working.
I suppose if you don’t hear from me in the near future that, well, the computer crashed and it’s so long for JoyUnexpected. (Until we could save for a new computer, then it’s BACK TO BLOGGING FOR ME!)
Ugh. My pictures. I can’t believe this is happening.

The one in which I leave you a gift at the end as my reward for reading all the way through my weirdness. (But you can totally scroll down and not read it, because what’s important is that you watch.)

When The Queen of Everything (And fellow Meat Club member) tags you to do a meme, you do the freaking meme.
So, I’m supposed to list 6 weird facts/things/habits about myself. I could only think of 3, which in itself is weird, so I asked my husband to help me out.
“If you had to make a list that included weird facts about me, what would be on that list?”
Here are his answers and I am not making them up.
a) You don’t like peas.
b) You won’t use sponges becaues you’re afraid of germs (which, TOTALLY A LIE. I will use sponges, but only ONCE, then, I trash it.)
I think his list of things that make me weird actually make HIM look like The Weirdo. Not liking peas makes me WEIRD? I thought that made me Very Normal. Who in the hell LIKES PEAS?
So, because he was of no help whatsoever, I have been forced to come up with my own list. Here goes it.
1. During an earthquake, my first reaction is to run to the toilet to pee because OH MY GOD, what if the toilet system breaks and we are unable to use them for days? I MUST GET THE PEE OUT NOW! Obviously, now that I have kids, the first thing I do is check on them, bring them to a “safe place” and THEN I go pee. But, before kids? Straight to the bathroom I’d run. Infact! In 1992 there was a pretty large quake and I was on the toilet through most of it. PEEING!
2. I am scared of raw chicken. Any raw meat for that matter. I hate touching it and sometimes I’ll dry heave when cooking it. I am also very paranoid that the meat isn’t “cooked enough” and almost ALWAYS end up overcooking meat. For instance, last night, I cooked meatloaf. The instructions said to cook for one hour. I cooked it for 1:45, JUST TO BE SAFE. It tasted like Meatloaf jerky. BUT NO ONE DIED FROM ECOLI, SO THERE.
3. I HATE the taste of beer, BUT! The smell of beer? Makes me horny.
4. I am overly concerned with “Safety Issues” and whenever I am out in public, I am always “planning an escape route, just in case of emergency” and am also “scoping out possible safety hazards.” Example: when me and my sister went to see my brother’s group perform, I noticed there were candles on the tables, right next to dried out flowers. I panicked inside and started asking the people to a)either blow out the candles or b) move the dried flowers away from the candles because HELLO PEOPLE? Fire hazard. Another example? The club we went to on Saturday night was packed out and all I kept thinking was “OMG. What would we do if there was an earthquake?” I asked my sister if I was the only one worried about such a thing and her response was “Um, YES.” I played it off like “haha, I’m not really worried” but I secretly had scoped out the table in which I would dive under to “duck and cover.”
5. I’ve never admitted this one out loud to ANYONE. Oh man. Ok. Hello, my name is Y and I am afraid of wearing sunglasses when I drive because what if I get hit and my air bag goes off? Will the force of the airbag not push the sunglasses deep into my face, possibly pentrating my skull, leaving me a huge ass gaping hole in my face, or quite possible DEAD?
6. I take videos of myself doing aerobic dance moves named “The Monkey” and then add a little of my own choreography called “Da Butt” because I think I am such a great aerobic dancer (even though, haha, I really am a horrible dancer) and then POST THAT VIDEO ON MY BA-LAWWWWG for The Internet to see just to prove that I would SO BEAT YOU in a dance off.
I almost forgot! I am supposed to tag 6 people and I’m SO tagging people.
KristyK
Tipsy.
Aj
Debbie
Itchy
Daniel

“FOR THE RECORD”

Dear Internet,
I do NOT have The Password. I never asked for the password because I am lame and didn’t even know about any of this. I only tell you this because I’ve already recieved 2 emails asking me about it, and, well, I hate to disappoint, but, uh, yeah, don’t have it. Don’t want it either.
Aren’t you glad I took the time out of my life to tell you before you had to go and waste YOUR time asking me? I’m so thoughtful, I know.
P.S.

Continue reading →

This post will be deleted sometime in the near future by the drunk asshole post removal team. (thank you kathy)

I just wasted a buttload of points on Wine.
I wanted a glass of wine to take the edge off because, DANG, I’ve got edges.
Well, being the kind of person who can’t stop at one, let’s just say, The Bubbly is all up in my system right now.
And that makes me want to be all honest and stuff.
Did you know I’m going to Blogher? Because I’m going to blogher. I can’t afford the conferences but you bet your ass I’ll be at the cocktail parties.
Cock.
Tails.
Ha.
Ha.
Quite a few people have said things to me like “oh, I can’t go, I’m not one of the popular people, no one will know who I am and I’ll end up in a corner by myself.”
To you wimmins, I say KNOCK THAT TALK OFF RIGHT NOW.
First of all, I am not one of The Popular people and Im going! And get this! Not ONE person has asked me to go. You know how on some blogs, you see people talking about how “this person and that person was begging them to go” or you see comments like “you better be going to blogher so I can meet you because you are so awesome!”
I didn’t get one of those. People don’t care if I go or not. Not one person ONE has said “OMG you have to go to Blogher!” to me.
But ask me if I care?
I don’t care! I’m going because I WANT TO GO. I KNOW that most of the people there won’t know who the hell I am. I know that “The Populars” will be like “Y who? What? Whatever!” And guess what? I DON’T CARE! I’m going anyway because I WANT TO GO. Because I think it will be fun. Because I love to have fun, because I am a fun person and I don’t give a SHIT if people know about my blog or not or if people ask me to sit at their table or not or if The Populars acknowledge my existance or not.
I’ve heard talk about “The Popular Table.” Who are The Populars? Do they like to boink? Do they shave down there? Do they love their vaginas as much as I love mine? If you give them a glass (or 3) of cheap wine, will they drink it and then want to have their Enchiladas stuffed? DO THEY WATCH THE GAUNLET?
Cock.
Tails. Haaaaaaa. Cocks.
I’m pretty sure I know who people are talking about when they talk about The Popular table. This is how I see it. People are going to “sit next to” the people they have bonded with. They are going to want to talk to the people they have a connection too. Sowhat if Dooce doesn’t ask me to sit at her table. That doesn’t make her a bitch, that doesn’t mean she’s stuck up or a dick. It just means that we aren’t friends and um, why would you want to hang out with people you don’t even know? Hey, maybe I don’t want to sit at the popular table! OR mabye, MY TABLE IS THE MOTHER FUCKING POPULAR TABLE.
I wish people would get over all of that drama and just FREAKING ENJOY LIFE.
Wine! How I love thee!
I’ve never felt like I’ve “belonged” in my life. I’ve always felt like an outsider.
There are The Pretty People, The Smart People, The People who Own Houses, The Creative People, The Witty People, The Rich People, The People That Everybody Loves Because They Are So Damn Fabulous.
Then, there’s ME.
But the older I get, the more I realize it’s not so bad to be me. Sure, I live in an ugly house and don’t have money to buy nice things and have saggy tits and I play with my gut in public, but I am loving person and DAG NAMMIT, I’m fun! THAT’S RIGHT, I AM HELLA FUN, PEOPLE, I mean, seriously,think about it, I know how to NAVIGATE A PENIS. It doesn’t get any “funner” than that. (ok, yes it does. When I bust out in The Worm halfway through the cocktail party, that is going to be MUCH FUNNER then penis navigation.)
I will never fit in, I will never be one of The Populars, I will never be The Pretty Girl, but I WILL TOTALLY BE THE GIRL WHO GOES TO BLOGHER EVEN IF NO ONE GIVES A SHIT IF SHE’S THERE.
And I will also alwasy be the girl who loves her a $2.50 bottle of blackberry merlot.
Updated.
I want to add something here.
My point wasn’t to whine that I’m not popular so that I’d get feedback telling me otherwise. I’m totally content with this blog and I love the people that read this blog. My point really was to tell the people who I’ve asked to go with me and who have said that you are afraid to go because no one will know who you are and that everyone will want to be around me and that you’ll feel like “a third wheel” to please, stop feeling like that and JUST GO so we can meet and have fun. Of COURSE, someone has twisted my post to make me look like an asshole who is fishing for “feedback” and that is not what the point was, my point was to say “Hey, no one gave me a special invite, and even though none of the so called “big name bloggers” knows who I am or gives a shit if I’m there or not, I’M STILL GOING BECAUSE I LOVE TO HAVE FUN AND I WANT TO MEET PEOPLE AND SOCIALIZE WITH OTHER WOMEN BLOGGERS AND YOU SHOULD DO THE SAME BECAUSE I WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOU AND HAVE A DRINK WITH YOU.
So there. If you still want to twist it, be my guest, I’m officially done trying to make you “get it.”