Happy New Year!

Ah, 2010. Have you decided if you're calling it Two Thousand and Ten, Two Thousand Ten or Twenty Ten?

I'm calling it Twenty Ten, for the record. Join me if you want to be cool.

I'm not big on resolutions, but I'm making one. Here it is: I'm going to write on my blog at least once a week. Here's why: I miss writing here. It helps me sort out hilarious things that have happened and turn them into material, it helps me sort out terrible things that have happened and turn them funny, and it's a nice way to stay connected with people (including my identical-twin grandmother, who is not pleased by the dearth of posts here (sorry, Grandmother)).

In any case, I'm going to try.

Remember the olden days when I blogged multiple times a day? How did I have that kind of time?

Oh, right. I didn't have a Count.

I guess this is a good trade. Even so, I am striving for balance. Join me.

Moving on up, to the east side to our deluxe house on Saint James

Our official move date is Sunday. Holy hell. It seems like we've had the house for months and months, what with all the work we've done. But it's only been three weeks since our closing!

We met a very nice man thanks to craigslist* who sanded our floors and basically made them totally beautiful. Joe (that's his name) told us that our floors are not pine, which is what everyone else said they were. Of course, he became intimately acquainted with them in a fashion that no one else did. But it turns out that our floors are hemlock. How about that?

Anyway, our floors will be done tomorrow, and then will need a couple days to mellow, so we're moving in on Sunday.

I'm really pleased about this turn of events because I am about 100% ready for this moving process to be over. I reached a fevered pitch of heart-pounding anxiety tonight. Sunday can't come soon enough.

Today, Scott got a U-Haul and moved a bunch of stuff he can move by himself. I'm gathering a small band of ladies on Saturday to help me with the final packing while Scott is at work. Then Sunday, we'll have a small band of helpers to help with the final big stuff. Then it will be over.

Oh! Hear this excellent news! I found an awesome, awesome dining room set on craigslist for a low price. It's extra fancy and the table extends to eight feet long! Scott and I had just been talking about what we were going to do in our big new dining room. Now we will dine there!

I'm hoping that once we're done with the madness that I will return to blogging about hilarious things. I hope you will bear with me as we get through this crazy time.

Thank you.

* If you're looking for someone to sand your floors, consider Joe. He came in with the best quote and he was just about the nicest person ever. We met a couple total shysters -- one that quoted us fully twice as much as this guy and bellyached about how hard it would be to sand our floors. Joe definitely knew they were hard floors, but he didn't bellyache or try to separate us from any more of our money than his original quote. I can't recommend him highly enough.

Afirmación, por favor

The thing about that article I linked to the other day is that I totally can relate to wanting the world to give a shit about me. I want attention and affirmation so badly that I do such things as talk frankly about my own asshole on public stages and with a microphone. It's a sickness.

And it's dangerous. Imagine if I didn't have such quality outlets as comedy and the radio and the careful blogging to get my need for affirmation filled. It scares me to think of what I could be doing instead.

Also, I think I used to feel like if I said something out loud and in public that it couldn't hurt me, that I was invincible to the pain associated with whatever I was saying. This, of course, is bunk.

(Aside: If you work in Corporate America and you want to say something is bullshit, you should say it's bunk instead. That's what I do and it has been working like a charm.)

One thing that scares me is that a young friend of mine needs constant affirmation like I do, but about 6.02 x 10²³ times worse. She doesn't get the attention she needs (no single human has that much time), so she manufactures attention by any means necessary (shouting, crying, acting a fool), which annoys the people around her to no end (young and old alike), which perpetuates the cycle of people not paying enough attention to her.

I admit that I don't pay quite enough attention, mostly due to sheer annoyance. It is so hard to do right by young people, even when you're trying!

It's so hard to be a human.

Attention local bloggers

Did you know your content is being rebroadcast on this site?

I'm really confused about how this is allowed.

Also, I'm kind of steamed about it. I wrote a note to the "editor" and am going to patiently await an answer while steaming quietly.