Just Another Day

Today I just happen to be going insane learning my way around blogland (on my way to posting damn it I created another blog!) Who knew cyberdiaries were so complex. Who knew my mind was so darn linear! Who knew I was going to have to jump through hoops to keep Gillian happy (and I really, really want to keep Gillian happy...Should I tell you how long it took me to fix the comment page?) And she'll never leave or attempt to leave another comment again.

Now I have to attempts links. Nanci has already realized I've botched and bungled the 'comments' section already or I'd have emailed by now screaming for help with the links....Little did she realize in the time it should have taken to merely add the comment verification I've already written this once, and created an entirely new blog....Ladies when I screw up I do it in brilliant colors! I had written in my usual sarcastic tone that this could be my last post but I'm starting to realize, damn, I'm persistent...Slow, thick and linear and I've no idea why anyone would even want to read this nonsense but I'm still going to put in out there cos it's fun.

Regardless, most of don't need to share most of the nonsense we write so why do we. Essentially, it's like a huge email to the world or even better. It's like the dollar bill you wrote on when you were a kid and (roll eyes) you so stupidly thought someday it would land back in your hands. Except it's a really huge dollar bill we never have to hand over to a cashier but we keep sending it out there.

Funny, my first post on my 'other' blog was actually a rant and I hadn't meant to rant and now I'm rambling. I'm not sure which is more painful. Because I'm giggling like hell right now. I feel like I should be handing out dollar bills and I know Gillian (heavens...Gillian is going to be my blocmascot!) will be first in line.

And I should be working on links, except I have a birthday party to plan. My oldest prince is turning 13. The party is for him (nice of him to let his brother attend) and four of his friends and they'll be doing manly/boy things like foosball, supersoakers, skateboards, scooters -- all of this is meant to terrify his father. Foosball is inside...New carpet in the playroom, O, My God...They'll be wet....Those wet feet will touch the carpet....He is going to freak out all (bleeping) day. This much is true. Me, I planned, I watched, I took the day off. I'm shrugging my shoulders....mud comes out sooo easily.
I have to leave soon. I have to go and buy kites as party favors. My son's goal here is to...an you have to love this....fly em high or get all five of them tangled in the trees. Another reason for his father to kill him. He will be dead by Sunday, Bloody, Sunday....and I don't think *the boys* had this melee' in mind when they were writing that song??? Nay, he never gets in trouble in school.
OK, off to...buy kites, do links????