April Shitstorms Bring May Blogging May 1, 2008

Peg me O.C.D., anal, nutjob or - if you’re the type that prefers the whole truth - all of the above, but it bothers me that in the grand scheme of things, there will be no archived month of April 2008 posts on this blog.
 
Perhaps, though, this gap will provide an accurate summary of the month when life decided to momentarily behave like a temperamental elephant on a rampage in Sri Lanka, I its white conversion van.
 
That summary going something like this: (Watch video).
 
Who could blog under such conditions!
 
I’ve missed blogging though. A lot. And you guys. Of course you guys. Because people like me - the ones who too often exploit the inappropriate sarcasm and play the fierce independent and wave around the snarkiness - are the people who tend to really need others the most.
 
To say the emails and comments I received during my unannounced and unplanned hiatus last month were nice wouldn’t nearly be sufficient. Fucking nice wouldn’t even cut it, really.
 
Because - catching up on my emails and comments today - I kind of frightened myself with how moved I felt. And, see, I’m the girl who once looked a black bear in the face and told it to scram; I don’t scare easily. True story: My boyfriend’s TV is very big. Sixty inches across or something. And our couch is very near this very big TV. So sometimes its moving pictures can feel like they’re right in our faces. And I tend to yell things at the very big TV. A lot. Like the time I saw a  big black bear on Bear Gyles’ Discovery Channel show and told it to scram. So see. I’m not lying. (Ed. note: I also yell when I see Nikki of this season’s Top Chef: Chicago (Chicago!), usually something like I HATE YOU - ANYONE CAN BUY SAUSAGES AND THROW ON SOME PEPPERS AND SERVE THEM AT A TAILGATE AND HOW ARE YOU STILL AROUND.)
 
In any case, all of this obscure truth telling is my way of saying thank you for not forgetting about me.
 
And as a way to turn things around, I’ve decided to dub May my unofficial NaBloPoMo month. Which, in sum, will see me trying very hard to post an entry everyday in some hope of re-establishing a pattern of behavior, and, if I do this right, you trying not that hard to avoid this blog everyday in some hope of avoiding my pattern of behavior. Kind of like the guy I dated near the end of my senior year in college who suggested we take a break once he realized that my friends and I went out 6 of 7 nights a week (Ed. note: Even God rested on the 7th day, yes?), every week, not simply as a relish of our senior year in college, but as a way of escaping life.
 
Anyway, sometimes, a funny sounding portmanteau is all the inspiration one needs to get right back into the swing of things. If one’s swing of things must include masochistic tasks and tired jokes about how hard Blo-ing can be.
 
Which apparently, mine does.
  
In all truth, the stories, the thoughts, the ideas are ample. The time, maybe not as much. However. This damsel may be in distress, but fuck it if she lets another month go by without - uh - being a damsel in digress.
 
(I was really willing that to have some ring to it.)
  
I’m proving to be a slow start. It took me a good five minutes to find the “Save” button on this new WordPress layout.
 
And fresh off the unbalanced sanity I was calling mine last month (Ed. note: All together now: Just last month?), this desperate scramble was almost enough trigger to spark a shutdown of WordPress, quit my job, steal a car, and drive to a small town in Mexico with the plan to live the rest of my life scorning cell phones, computers, and change.
 
But after a few minutes of WHAT THE FUCK WORDPRESS, the ability to observe the blatantly obvious blessed me for a moment and I found the button. The one right next to this text box in which I currently type. (See illustration below.) I don’t know how to explain why it took me five minutes to find the damn thing but I’m sure the damaging effects of second-hand smoke had something to do with it. That, or the damaging effects of having George W. Bush hold public office for so many years.
 
 

 
 
The important thing is that I found it before I was reduced to emailing WordPress Support with my question in the subject line, as per their request: “WHERE IS THE SAVE BUTTON LOCATED?”
 
So no clicking out of WordPress. No quitting of job. And I guess the small town in Mexico will have to wait a while longer for the girl who will run it dry of its tequila supplies.
 
Of course, you’ll only have to wait till tomorrow Monday WEDNESDAY (Ed. note: There’s no time! There’s never any time! There’s no time to study. No time to blog. NO TIME TO SING WITH THE HOT FUDGE SUNDAES) for me to Blo some more.