And when I wig, I want to eat. And when I want to eat as a direct result of my wigging, I want good, nasty things that only Southern people eat. Tonight it was "all the way dogs". If you aren't from South of here, you don't know what that is. As I love abusing even the smallest amount of power I have over others, I'm not going to tell you. All you really need to know is that I ate them and they were good.
Know what else is good?
Dear Person I've been writing about for years but who only just now has publicly responded to my blog,
A. Your memory sucks. Point of fact: I only stopped in the bar after returning from a training excursion with the meanest person in the entire city, if not the universe, so that I might say howdy-doody and see if you wanted to TP her house or put a black magic curse on her.
2. Your knowledge of what is connected to what is suspect. I may have gotten clocked upside my head with a pool ball traveling at the speed of a guy leaving your house after you tell him you love him, but I rather doubt that has anything to do with my gall bladder not gall bladdering and my ovary not ovarizing. It probably has everything to do with why I pee my pants everytime I I hear the word "break", though.
XXV. I do not have an old age obsession. I have a wrinkled, old, blue-haired lady obsession, as in I don't want to be one. Thank you for comparing me to a bottle of Boone's Farm though. I feel all warm and fuzzy. (That may be more to do with the all the way dogs than what you wrote, though.)
I have been reading your blog and love it. Your humor is great. I enjoy reading your blog and the new stories you post there. I also have OCD and understand some of the things you deal with.
Dear Other OCD Chick,
You wanna start a club? I could be the Queen and you could be the Treasurer or something. It would be a really clean club and all the electrical appliances would definitely be turned off and the doors would really be locked since we'd each have to check them and recheck them until we're sure they're OK...which is never. I'll bring the Lysol Wipes and you bring the gloves.
I tripped across your blog by accident about a month ago. I think from Erik Decker's (The Laughing Stalk).
"Sher's House of Testicle Removal" was the first treatise that I read. I've been addicted to you since. The most consistently humorist writer I've read. (I'm comparing you to the likes of: Dave Barry, Matt Farr, Erik Decker (The Laughing Stalk), Bruce Cameron, and Michael g.Valliant.
It's taking a while to 'get thru' all your 'stuff'. I'm still working my way thru the 2004 archives of Wiping the Crazy off My Face. But I'm also keeping up with the ocd-chick.blogspot and working backwards. I'll meet myself in the middle of your writing somewhere if I don't get lost.
I have not yet seen any reference that you have written a book. How can this be? Perhaps I got lost in your pages and missed the link? Your humor hits so close to daily issues that we all have. I would think that your book would be a NY Times best seller!
I am 'passing on' links to your blogs to all my friends and family, of course. It's the least I can do to increase your popularity. And it persuades friends that I am savvy to the ways of the internet.
Jealous of your husband
Dear Guy who was nice to me so now I love him,
I am very fond of men who suck up to me by telling me I'm funny and that they are jealous of Mr. Man. But when they say I should be on the NY Times Bestseller List, AND they use words like 'treatise' AND they offer to increase my popularity by persuading friends and being savvy, I am fully prepared to have my tubes sewn back together and birth them some big-headed babies. Nothing says loving like offering to gestate for a stranger.
Thanks. I needed that this morning.
Dear Guy who isn't Mr. Man and whose email sounded dirty but it's not,
Your email sounded dirty. But, it's not.
HumorWriter@gmail.com: You know you want to.
Amos Lee on the Today Show. He's all good and nothing nice. (Make sure you download Southern Girl on iTunes. Crazy good.)
Copyright © 2004-2006, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com
Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.
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