Sunday, June 17, 2012

Hand me my cane; I'm sticking around

Okay, wow, when I started this blog; Facebook wasn't filled with my high school friends, Reddit wasn't filled with my wrath and Twitter wasn't filled with my anonymous secrets (not really anonymous, guess what my handle is). I did, however, have an active and bright and glittery and kind of loud Myspace account.

I had a devil of a time finding my own log in requirements for this creaky old blog but as much as today's social networks have rendered my blog as outdated as FM radio, I have to say, I'm pretty nostalgic about the whole thing. I never thought I'd be grandfathered into anything with a six year time investment but I think it safe to say, I'm an old timer in the world of blogs. 

I started this rant before my husband started O a th Ke epers (no sense making it searchable), before Ron Paul announced his bid the first time around (the republican bid anyway). My now six year girl was just born and since then I have had a little boy (now 3) and another beautiful little girl who was stillborn in March. 

Time changes us all and I'm, frankly, not as witty as I used to be and I'm quite a bit more jaded. 

I'm also a bit more prone to self censoring now that I know I'm just a click away from family and friends and just a few clicks away from hostile media (thanks to O.K.). 

So being the cautious sort that I am; don't expect me to talk about the lap dance I once gave to Matt Leblanc or the day that I learned Judge Reinhold had a fascination for dirty talk (and I mean dirty). 

I mean that would be like saying fuck you to the liberal forums that sometimes comb and quote my blog. 


 I can't spend my whole life as the zany zebra baby of the family. 

I have been slowed down by age and responsibility; my most recent claim to fame is that a bit part vampire from the not-yet-released Breaking Dawn II sent me a direct message on Twitter and if that is not boring enough, it was in response to my Tweet regarding Wikileaks. 

Hopefully, my caustic wit will return so we can all discuss our adopted son Rand Paul and try to figure out where we all went wrong and if our collective tough love program can straighten him out before it's too late. 

So now I sign off-with the same sort of sentimental clinginess that I clutch onto to my Grease II and Olivia Newton-John records; I still hold this blog dear and cross-my-heart that I will update.