I have officially auditioned for Blogger Idol. Trying out for anything is terrifying. If I had a penis it would be shriveled up and hiding next to my appendix right now. Since I don’t have that particular confidence spirit stick- I will just drink lots of wine. Because of my propensity to procrastinate and a midnight deadline pissing down a hail storm of nervous stomach and writers block – I am entering Blogger Idol right now while I feel like a word ninja. If I wait too long I won’t be able to get wine and would have to resort to shots of Nyquil to calm my nerves. Not that there’s anything wrong with Nyquil but I am almost 40 and supposed to have a dignified palate. And it makes me tired and renders me unable to type.
|I Googled "penis spirit stick" and this is the image|
that popped up. I just spewed my wine.
I’ve been wrapped up in turning 40 and all of the fun that comes with it. By wrapped up I mean twisted in knots with indigestion and abdominal instability. By fun I mean Mother Nature seems to have lost her ever loving mind and forgotten how to read a calendar, I can’t sleep, my pubes are turning grey and there is not enough Xanax most days to keep my ass safely on the ledge. Just kidding about the pubes because I wax and well that's a whole different post but now you won't be able to look me in the eyes if you see me because you'll be too busy staring at my crotch. Perverts. I feel like I need to make the last 30 years of my life meaningful and uncensored. I’ve had a strong urge to finally do what I have always wanted to do –but never did- because I was busy being a mom and too busy to be me. I gave notice at my job and forfeited a steady paycheck to fly by the seat of my panties and live balls out in order to be a writer. Which brings me to why I entered the contest.
Most of my readers are women, which is awesome, because it's us against men every minute out there and we have to stick together. Men read my blog and should continue to, because they will probably learn something about us that will save their asses from a murderous PMS fueled rage one day. They can use this bloggity as a cautionary tale of what happens when they jump stupid and morph into truly spectacular fucktards. I want to win this for the obvious reasons: exposure, great prizes and respect from my peers. I also want to win it for validation- to prove to all of the people that say I am insane for ditching an 8-5 steady job in a soul killing cube farm in order to pursue my passion. A ginormous middle finger salute , if you will. We all want to be able to win a prize and triumphantly rub it in the face of the ass hats that are all waiting to say “I told you so”. Mostly, I want to win for all of the women that read my blog. The ones that laugh and feel some sense of victory because I said something to some version of a fucknut that made them feel like they were almost but never quite good enough. Feeling almost will kill your soul and render you silent- I know from experience. For me to give you a voice and share something you would never say out loud AND win would be truly fucking epic. So cross your fingers, kill a chicken, throw some salt over your shoulder and wear your sluttiest high heels while you wish me luck and send good ju ju vibes to the judges. Go ahead and get voo doo dolls ready , too. Just in case.