Twenty Years

I remember when I turned 20. It was way back in 19??. I’ll let that date remain a secret because I don’t want to ruin the mystery. Anyway, recently I’ve been thinking I should start lying about my age. If I up it by 10 years I’ll probably get a lot of compliments. “Oh, you look so good for your age.” But, what if I don’t? Then I’ll just feel bad, so maybe lying about my age isn’t such a good idea.

Anyway, 20 is a funny age. You’ve finally passed through the fire of adolescence only to find that you still feel exactly the same as you did yesterday. Isn’t every birthday like that though?

My stepson turned 20 yesterday. That’s right. He’s all grown up now. When I first met him he looked like this …

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Those where the good old days of grasshoppers and tarantulas. Okay, they weren’t really so good. I’ve never liked tarantulas.

Gone are the tarantulas, thank goodness. Now he wants an outfit like the one Gaddafi used to wear and looks like this …

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We haven’t gotten him the outfit yet, but I’m sure Gaddafi wore jeans and a t-shirt sometimes too. Only one of the individuals in this picture was in big trouble for digging a giant whole in the backyard. I’m sure you an guess which one it was, but I getting off topic.

Time flies, as they say. I hope he had a good 20th birthday and has many more to come. Maybe not. Turning 20 every year forever would probably get a bit boring, like Groundhog Day without Bill Murray. I hope he has many more birthdays to come of various numbers in whatever order he wants … 35, 22, 54. It’s good to mix things up a bit sometimes.

Yes, I Write Limericks

There once was a girl from St. Pete
Who thought making videos would be really neat.
But then she realized that her old camera made really crappy videos so she got really frustrated and felt unmotivated and sat around the house on Thursdays half-heartedly brainstorming video idea and then lamenting because any video she made would look like garbage anyway so what was the point really.

I think I have a future in writing limericks, don’t you? Anyway, that basically explains what happened to my Thursday videos.

In other news, it’s 72 degrees today, and I’m freezing. When I said I wanted the weather to cool down a bit, I meant I wanted it to be around 80 degrees. I’m wearing long pants and a jacket right now. That’s just not right. It’s not even winter yet.

Note: The above paragraph is just one example of how I’m trying to keep the British tradition of complaining about the weather alive in our house.

American Cheese Month

The month is nearly over and I couldn’t let it go by without acknowledging that it is American Cheese Month. I don’t understand why it isn’t celebrated more widely. People get so caught up in Halloween that they forget the truly great things in life–cheese.

In this home, we shun the Jack O’Laterns, ghosts, witches, and black cats usually prominent in Halloween decorations and opt for classier cheese decor. I’ve found that Kraft American Single Cheese Slices stick nicely to any wall. You can cover an entire wall with them or organize them into a festive checkerboard pattern.

A large block of Swiss cheese can be used as an elegant table centerpiece. Stick flowers in the holes to brighten it up a bit. Fresh flowers are best, but you can use dried or even silk flowers also.

I like to string small wheels of cheddar together and hang them around windows and doorways like garland. Of course you can’t celebrate American Cheese Month without some blue cheese. Leave a few small dishes of crumbled blue cheese around the house. Nothing reminds you of the holidays like that festive cheese smell.

I hope these tips will help you celebrate American Cheese Month right. I’ll be giving out string cheese to trick-or-treaters on Halloween. I hope you consider passing out a cheesy snack to the children as well.

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I Won Again

I just can’t believe how much of a winner I’ve become recently. I’d buy a lottery ticket if I knew how to and if the lottery didn’t terrify me. There are so many unanswered questions about the lottery. How do you pick the numbers? How much is a ticket? Okay, those are only two questions, but I wonder about them every time I enter the grocery store.

I can’t help staring at the customer service desk where you can buy the lottery tickets. There’s always a very particular type of person in that line: the woman in her fifties with leathery tanning booth skin and frosty pink lipstick, the man with a swollen beer belly in a t-shirt that is slightly too tight.

Sometimes I’ll wander over towards the lottery ticket line, but the smell of stale cigarette smoke and the sideways glances I get always scare me away. People might think I’m trying to overhear their lucky numbers because I have no luck numbers of my own. They don’t realize that I don’t need lucky numbers because I’m just plain old lucky. Maybe I should start telling people to call me that. Hi, I’m Lucky Bettison.

I haven’t won the lottery yet, but I did win a redesign for the cover of my novel The Box. I took the old cover out of the sidebar last week. It was blue and boring, and I was never happy with it. Jaha Knight from BCAHQs did a bang-up job at designing a new book cover for me.

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I’m fixing some editing issues with the book and recording it for a podcast. Once that stuff is done it will be up for sale again. I know you can’t wait to hear me read you a story. It will be like the old days when you were a small child, and I sat by your bedside reading The Little Engine That Could as you drifted off to sleep, except this book has nothing to do with trains and we all know that you were never a small child.

Note: I’m sharing this post at the I Don’t Like Mondays link party even though I don’t really have anything against Mondays. Wednesdays are a completely different story though.

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

It’s Low-fi Week

I usually make a video on Thursday, but it’s Low-fi week on You Tube. I wanted to show how low-fi I was by not using a camera at all. I’m supposed to upload a picture to the site today, but I’m low-fi this week and didn’t use a camera. I’m wondering how many things I can use this low-fi excuse for.

“I’m sorry dinner isn’t ready, but I’m low-fi this week, and I can’t use the stove.”

“Ooops, I missed my dentist appointment because I’m low-fi this week. That means no tooth drilling here.”

“I’m sorry I never responded to your text message. It’s just that I’m low-fi this week which means no texting.”

I’m liking this whole low-fi thing.

In other news, I accidentally cut my hair again. I’m not sure how it happened. I was standing in the bathroom when suddenly the scissors started flying wildly around my head. I’m lucky I only lost some hair. I could’ve lost an ear or something.

My husband recently pointed out that I never talk about my writing here, so here goes. I finished writing the first draft of a silly detective story this week. It will be a series featuring Kiki Johnson PI in Training. I’m working on editing a novella called Mine, and I’m kicking around another book idea in my head.

All that and I still find time for all of you here at the Mooch. I should win a prize. Wait, I already have won several prizes because I’m lucky now, and so are you.

New Sandals and Nail Polish

Everyone knows that the most important thing is what you put in your head. Your brain is who you are, and you should make sure you fill it with good stuff. Did you know that what you put on your feet is almost equally as important? You didn’t? That’s probably because I made that up about two seconds ago.

I believe in wearing top quality shoes. That’s why I was so excited when I won the Funny Not Slutty Essay Contest a few weeks ago. As a prize I got a pair of Orthaheel sandals from Sole Provisions. My sandals arrived today and I was so happy that I put them on immediately and sat around looking at them. These shoes really compliment my Fred Flintstone feet.

I decided to paint my toenails to pretty up the situation a bit more. I headed to the drugstore to buy polish because I never paint my nails and don’t own any nail polish. There I met a very enthusiastic saleswoman who helped me pick out the best cheap nail polish for me. Pink sparkly nails go perfectly with orthopedic shoes, don’t you think?

I never realized how difficult it is to paint your nails. I’ve tried to do this three times now and it still looks like I was attacked by a group of nail-polish-wielding cats. I’ve always been bad at coloring in the lines, but there are no lines on my toes so I thought this would be a breeze. I was so wrong. No wonder people go to school to learn how to do this.

I’m keeping the badly painted nails for now, but it is a good thing I only paid $1.99 for the polish.

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I’m a Brand Ambassador

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I have an official announcement to make. Here at the Mooch we like to keep you informed that’s why we do all our informing in the form of official announcements. But first I need to tell you a story about a little girl with a serious expression and crooked pigtails. I’m too lazy to scan a picture so I drew one instead.

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Great likeness, don’t you think?

This little girl dreamed of traveling the world. She dreamed of speaking eight languages and having a passport with so many stamps that it needed to get extra pages added. One way she thought she could do that was by becoming a US Ambassador.

She would be able to go to lavish parties in foreign countries and meet heads of state. She would be worldly and sophisticated.

As she matured, she realized that in order to become an ambassador she’d have to take a test. She hated tests and never really did well on them.

She’d also need certain connections to certain powerful people. When she found out that the fact that Steve Wynn nearly sat in her father’s lap once and her mother once dated a relative of Chubby Checker weren’t the right kind of connections, she gave up on her dream. “They probably don’t like ambassadors to be silly anyway,” she thought as she took her place on the factory floor making Thingymajigs and Whatsamabobs.

Have you ever heard the saying a cat on a tin roof is probably really uncomfortable? No … neither have I. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying never give up on a dream though, right?

Well that little girl with crooked pigtails and a serious expression became a woman with fuzzy hair and a face, and on this very day she also became a brand ambassador for Cottonelle’s #LetsTalkBums campaign. That means that Cottonelle will pay her some cash moneys to step away from the Thingymajig and Whatsamabob assembly line to talk about wiping bums. Don’t be embarrassed. We all have bums, and hopefully we all wipe them at some point. If you don’t I really don’t want to know.

Thanks Cottonelle for not taking wiping too seriously and thanks Mooch readers for actually wiping. We all really appreciate it. Let the ambassading begin.

Note: Yes I’m aware that ambassading isn’t a word, but since when has anything like that stopped me. I just used hashtags in my post title for goodness sakes. I’m letting it all hang out today.

Life Without Internet is Like Stabbing Myself in the Eye with a Pencil

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As I write this post I am suffering one of the greatest hardships known to modern humankind. I have no internet. I called my internet provider and heard a happy little message about how there is an interruption of service in my area, but it should be restored within two hours.

Two hours!? I sat with the phone against my ear wondering how my new computerized phone buddy could be so cheerful at a time like this. How will I see Lady Gaga’s VMA performance without the interwebs? How will I keep up with the Tweets on the Twitter? How will I know that the world continues to exist? How will I not shrivel into at lonely forgotten ball of emptiness?

I can hear my stepson cooking his breakfast and I think, who eats at a time like this? Who eats when what you should be doing is laying on your bed in fetal position sobbing? “Interwebs, oh interwebs it’s been thirty whole minutes and I miss you so,” I lament. The dog opens his eyes and sighs. I know he just wants me to shut up so he can continue his nap, but he’s only napping because it’s hard to use a computer when you have paws.

That’s when I had a brilliant idea. Why not use this time without distraction to do something useful, like meditate. Okay, that’s not necessarily useful, but it’s something.

But wait … I can’t meditate because I need someone to guide me through a meditation and all of those people live in the You Tube which I can’t get to because I have no interwebs. “Life is so hard without the internet,” I say with my head in my hands.

I guess I could read a book, or take a nap, or … I’ve got nothing. That’s a problem isn’t it. I’m not too worried about it though because the longest two hours ever should be over in what feels like five million years, and then I can get on with my life.

I’m a Winner

I always say that I hate contests, but the truth is the only reason I hate them is because I never win them. Well, I can’t say that anymore because just last week I stopped being a loser and started being a winner.

I’m not just talking about becoming the International World State Pushup Champion. That win came on the heels of my first win, the win that turned my life around. I won a contest sponsored by Southernerds. Here I am with all of my winnings.

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Yes, I have swag and you don’t. Don’t worry though, you can buy your own nerdy swag on their website. It won’t be as good as mine though because you bought yours, but you can pretend.

I know some of you out there have never been winners. No, winning a three legged race when you were in fourth grade doesn’t count because you had to share the prize with someone else, and I saw you trip the other team just inches from the finish line.

Since you haven’t been a winner before you’re probably wondering how it feels. There’s only one way to describe it. It feels gosh darn amazing.

Don’t Panic, But There’s a Hole in the Sun

sunApparently, there’s a giant hole in the sun, but we don’t have to worry about that because it’s totally normal. Don’t believe? Check it out here. Go on. I’ll still be here when you get back.

Just when we finally called an exterminator who told me not to worry because we don’t have termites, this happens. There’s always something to keep me up at night. If it’s not the possibility of my home crumbling around me, it’s the giant hole in the sun that will one day suck the Earth into it. That last part probably isn’t true, but in order to get the maximum amount of worrying in, I must heighten the drama a bit.

I tried to see the hole, but I just ended up burning my retina. Now I’m seeing spots, which is okay because I don’t really want to have clear vision when the world comes to an end. I’d rather see a giant red spot than my fellow human beings being swallowed up by the massive hole in the sun.

Since when is a hole in something no big deal. If you have a hole in your sock, you throw it out and get a new one. If there’s a hole in your bucket, you write a really long, tedious song about it. If there’s a hole in the sun, apparently you do nothing. You just pray that no extra heat or light leaks out and go about your day as normal.

Something good has come from all this. I started following NASA on Flickr. They have some beautiful pictures there that will make you feel amazed and ill-at-ease all at once. There’s something terrifying about space.

Picture by NASA Goddard Space Flight Center