Sometimes it’s tough being me.  And most of the time, it’s even harder being me and attempting to run a blog alongside my business.  I’m vulgar.  Really vulgar.   I don’t share the same delicate sensibilities that most successful bloggers (with the exception of course, of Dooce) have, what with all my cursing and inappropriate stories about my child and occasional photos of myself drinking heavily and hanging in a kiddie pool.  My great-granny, while alive, was embarrassed by me even though she loved my ass (I think).  My parents spend most of the time while we’re hanging thinking about how their lives might be different had they raised a proper girl.  My dad tells me to shut up 27 times a day while trying not to laugh at the disgusting questions I constantly ask him (“Hey Dad, do you want to know what an Abe Lincoln is?”).  But I like myself and as we’ve discussed, I like the word fuck.  Anyway, my point is unless you’re running a sex blog the way I talk in real life is certainly not appropriate for what I try to accomplish with this blog.  I’m constantly struggling with whether or not it’s okay to actually publish my thoughts on blow jobs in exchange for some housework done by my significant other (don’t tell him I just said that, DEAR GOD HE WOULD SHAT HIMSELF) or some of the hilarious things I tell The Bug just because he’s three and still has no idea what I’m talking about unless it’s in reference to trains or cheese.  I am unconventional which could be a problem in the sticks where I live and out here in the blogosphere – did I mention how astonished I was that Holly even mentioned my bio because holy shit, I went back and read that and why in God’s name was I talking about binge drinking and accidental pregnancies?!

Anyway, my point is through all the proper and lovely blogs I read, I’ve never really met anyone like myself that was able to pull off talking about design and craft while still talking about how you constantly make your small child thrust his hips back and forth suggestively while dancing because dammit, he’s only three AND THAT IS SERIOUSLY FUNNY.  (Sidenote: Sesame Street is now airing The Ball Show.  The Ball Show DUDES!)  That is until this morning when More Ways to Waste Time alerted me to the total awesomeness that is Reclaiming Miss Havisham.  There’s cursing (“fantastic bitches”), sarcasm, beer, AND CRAFTS!  I’m in love.  I feel like I’ve found my soul mate people.

In other news, today I’m gonna make a serious effort to get over myself and come to terms with blog vulgarity.  I’m going to resolve to talk about the fact that yesterday I cleaned up The Bug’s room for the first time in 3 months and found poop (note to readers: DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN UNLESS YOU’RE REALLY INTO SHIT).  Then I’m gonna call my dad and ask if he wants to know what a Rusty Trombone is (another note: DO NOT google that people).