Most days I feel like I have nothing to say to say about anything. I just bitch. My kids bug me. My dog bugs me. My husband is perfect. He never bugs me. Gotcha, huh? He bugs the shit out of me. But that’s his job. It’s in the spouse job description, second page, small type. Most people miss it. But it goes both ways. I bug the shit out of him too. But I believe if you can’t find humor in the everyday things that piss you off, then life pretty much sucks.
So having nothing to say, when I’m obligated to communicate something, I tend to punch it up with a smattering of bullshit and sarcasm. I call it bullcasm. Typically, the point is to smooth over the fact that I’m feeling woefully inadequate, or feeling awkward for harboring whatever anger I may be misdirecting. Usually the anger has nothing to do with you. But if it does. Look out. And duck.
Oh, and if the f-word disturbs you, you’re in the wrong place. Go away. No, seriously. Go away.
Ok, now that we’re clear on that, if you’re one of those people who, over the years has read my essays, emails, facebook comments, whatever, and has said, “You should write a blog,” this is your fault. Don’t fuck with me. I’ll name names. You know who you are.
I’m wingin’ this shit. Seriously. I didn’t even have a name for this bitch-fest until the second paragraph barfed out of my head just now. And then I did as I do… a hurried click-over to see if bullcasm.com was registered. I took it as a sign when it was available. And here we are. Bullcasm it is. And don’t even think about stealing that. I’m trademarking it, fuckers. (see, I told you about the f-word thing)
I guess we’re really doing this. I hope you’ll stick around. Tell your friends. Except the ones who can’t handle the f-word. We’ll all get to know me really well. Probably too well. Because an open book-type person with a blog is like the fat, drunk chick at the party. Not always pretty, talks a lot of TMI, and eventually you’ll see her tits. Really? No.
So now I am officially a blogger, and you are officially responsible. Byte me.
Most affectionately… with sarcasm and bullshit,
Lynn
I consider myself warned!
I miss you, Jenni!