Let's See What Happens When One Puts 'Gay Porn' In A Post Title.

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Sunday at work, one of my favorite little cuties, 97 year old Dolly asked me if she could speak to the other nurse on the floor.  I didn't question why and fetched Pat.

I was curious what Dolly would want of Pat that she didn't want to ask of me.  Pat came out of the room laughing and headed to the locked med room.

She came out with a shot of brandy for Dolly.

Dolly who apparently thinks I'm too sweet, didn't want me thinking bad things about her.  She didn't want me to know she drinks the occasional shot of brandy ( it is on her orders, so of course I did know this).

I popped in on Dolly and assured her that not only do I indulge in the *ahem* occasional drink, but that if I should happen to live to be 97, I'd better still be drinking.

I just love old ladies.

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And little girls.

Good friend Jen's daughter Lil told Jen that when she grows up she's going to have three children.

"Yup!  And one of them is going to be Deaf."

"Oh really Lil, and why is that?"

"You knoooooow.  'Cause Owen is Deaf!"

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There's  been a lot of blogging about blogging lately. Well, I've seen a lot of it anyway.

A lot of crap about what constitutes a "successful blog".  Advice on how to navigate the intricate web of social media sites, which is apparently necessary for a "successful blog".  Popularity being the strongest indicator of success from what I've read.

Well.  I've always considered myself too cool for the cool kids.  I'm such an ass hole.

So. Reading all of this started to sour me about blogging. Not that I'm thinking about quitting. It all just makes me want to run in the opposite direction.

Dump Twitter.  Fuck Facebook.  Feed BlogFrog to my dog.

And just fucking write.

However,  as Michele would say; The Universe Is Abundant, because just as I was feeling all icky about blogging, I get an email from Robin.  A very nice email.  She took a risk and said some extremely cool things about me.  Things that made the ickiness go away. She also is causing me to cheat on my boyfriend by posting this video.  I love me some adorkable f-bomb dropping Brits.

And she tried to help me fix my defective blog button and I think I killed it.  I'm a dumbass.

But.

I've been wanting a new header, so Sherri,  I think it is time for us to start thinking about a new one.  And by us I mean you as I don't have a creative bone in my body.

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I just fucking blogged about blogging.

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Al is leaving me.

At the crack o' dawn Friday, he is headed up to Vermont for three days of camping and fishing with two friends.  Just the guys.

I've noticed that he is not exhibiting the proper amount of guilt for;  a: leaving me alone to wrangle the kids for three days and  b: the fact that I've NEVER ditched my family for three whole days.

To make up for his lack of guilt, I've been referring to his trip as the Brokeback Fishing Weekend.

Turns out macho straight guys don't like jokes about their latent homosexuality.  Who knew?

Actually, I'm proud of myself for being so helpful in his preparations for three days in the woods.

I purchased everything on his list, snacks and drinks and such.  I'll make sure that all the clothes he needs are washed and ready to go.

I'll even help him pack.  I know.  Maybe that is too nice.

But.

How else am I gonna slip the lube and gay porn into his bag?

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More random at UnMom.