www.EramDoesNotLiveHere.com - the rest of the story...
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Humor writer bound and gagged by Texans.
www.EramDoesNotLiveHere.com - the rest of the story...
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
We're Live
www.ErmaDoesNotLiveHere.com !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Come over and say hi to me and in the name of all that's holy, cross your fingers and sacrifice a virgin so that our new site does well.
Love you guys!
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Another Obsessive-Compulsive 4-24
I'm staring right down the barrel of my forty-five. April 24th is my birthday... and I'm turning 45 years old.
Don't wig out. There is no need to alert law enforcement. I don't have a shiny gun in my hands. I just found it an entirely dramatic thing to say. Attention seeking behavior is one of my top four character flaws.
My birthdays are never what I expect them to be and frankly never quite what I want them to be. In my head, April 24th is cause for great celebration requiring a tuxedo clad swing band, a cake that has at least ten tiers and one gilded horse drawn carriage which, of course, will deliver me to my party amidst an enthusiastic throng of well wishers.
Never happens. I think it's because my husband has no idea what a throng is. Or maybe he knows exactly what a throng is but has experienced some difficulty in finding anything in excess of a mildly interested throng.
In the absence of a shindig that Oprah would want to attend, I am giving myself ten birthday wishes for my forty-fifth year. That's right. I am granting myself my own wishes, which I always felt genies on TV should have done. Not giving yourself what you want when you hold all the power seems a silly thing for a genie to have missed. Turns out it's also a silly thing for the OCD Chick to have missed.
Wish #10 - I wish I had ruby red and insanely sparkly red shoes. (These will do nicely.) They are a highly practical thing for me to grant myself as I will need them when I attend the gala.
Wish #9 - I wish I would be invited to a gala. I should also probably add a co-wish addendum to this one by saying I wish I knew what a gala is and whether insanely sparkly red shoes are appropriate footwear for such a thing. If they are not, I would like a substitute stand-by wish which is a case of Moon-Pies.
Wish #8 - I wish for a trip to the beach. Not just any beach though. North Myrtle Beach. I've seen lots of beaches and for my Southern girl self, North Myrle is the place I am most comfortable. I also enjoy the fact that I'll likely be the only chick on the sand sporting insanely sparkly red shoes.
Wish #7 - A monkey.
Wish #6 - I wish I would never have to use, type, look at or spell that number.
Wish #5 - World peace. (Had to be done. I don't need any bad mojo stank all over me.)
Wish #4 - I wish to go to Houston in the next couple months to see and collaborate with my Texas honeys Ryland and Kristi. Since both of them are exceedingly blonde and beautiful and smart, my sub-co-wish to this wish is that I would trick them into thinking I too am smart. So smart in fact that they have to carry a dictionary with them when I speak just to follow the conversation.
Wish #3 - I wish Kristi and Ryland would not be hatin' me because I show up wearing insanely sparkly red shoes they don't even have. Don't hate girls.
Wish #2 - I wish that anyone who has said mean things to me in the last 24 hours to 24 years would sprout back hair akin to a wool sweater; fall down someplace that is packed with people who will point and laugh; and be licked in the face by a smelly homeless woman who just ate something she found on the ground.
Wish #1 - I wish that this time next year I am here with a face full of Botox to talk about the exciting new sitcom, book,movie and line of action figures based on Wiping the Crazy off My Face. If I were you I'd go ahead and pay for yours now by sending me $99.95 per action figure. Hey, that's not bad at all since the OCD Sher doll is anatomically correct.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I won't have to wish any more...
Don't wig out. There is no need to alert law enforcement. I don't have a shiny gun in my hands. I just found it an entirely dramatic thing to say. Attention seeking behavior is one of my top four character flaws.
My birthdays are never what I expect them to be and frankly never quite what I want them to be. In my head, April 24th is cause for great celebration requiring a tuxedo clad swing band, a cake that has at least ten tiers and one gilded horse drawn carriage which, of course, will deliver me to my party amidst an enthusiastic throng of well wishers.
Never happens. I think it's because my husband has no idea what a throng is. Or maybe he knows exactly what a throng is but has experienced some difficulty in finding anything in excess of a mildly interested throng.
In the absence of a shindig that Oprah would want to attend, I am giving myself ten birthday wishes for my forty-fifth year. That's right. I am granting myself my own wishes, which I always felt genies on TV should have done. Not giving yourself what you want when you hold all the power seems a silly thing for a genie to have missed. Turns out it's also a silly thing for the OCD Chick to have missed.
Wish #10 - I wish I had ruby red and insanely sparkly red shoes. (These will do nicely.) They are a highly practical thing for me to grant myself as I will need them when I attend the gala.
Wish #9 - I wish I would be invited to a gala. I should also probably add a co-wish addendum to this one by saying I wish I knew what a gala is and whether insanely sparkly red shoes are appropriate footwear for such a thing. If they are not, I would like a substitute stand-by wish which is a case of Moon-Pies.
Wish #8 - I wish for a trip to the beach. Not just any beach though. North Myrtle Beach. I've seen lots of beaches and for my Southern girl self, North Myrle is the place I am most comfortable. I also enjoy the fact that I'll likely be the only chick on the sand sporting insanely sparkly red shoes.
Wish #7 - A monkey.
Wish #6 - I wish I would never have to use, type, look at or spell that number.
Wish #5 - World peace. (Had to be done. I don't need any bad mojo stank all over me.)
Wish #4 - I wish to go to Houston in the next couple months to see and collaborate with my Texas honeys Ryland and Kristi. Since both of them are exceedingly blonde and beautiful and smart, my sub-co-wish to this wish is that I would trick them into thinking I too am smart. So smart in fact that they have to carry a dictionary with them when I speak just to follow the conversation.
Wish #3 - I wish Kristi and Ryland would not be hatin' me because I show up wearing insanely sparkly red shoes they don't even have. Don't hate girls.
Wish #2 - I wish that anyone who has said mean things to me in the last 24 hours to 24 years would sprout back hair akin to a wool sweater; fall down someplace that is packed with people who will point and laugh; and be licked in the face by a smelly homeless woman who just ate something she found on the ground.
Wish #1 - I wish that this time next year I am here with a face full of Botox to talk about the exciting new sitcom, book,movie and line of action figures based on Wiping the Crazy off My Face. If I were you I'd go ahead and pay for yours now by sending me $99.95 per action figure. Hey, that's not bad at all since the OCD Sher doll is anatomically correct.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I won't have to wish any more...
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Delaying Your Gratification
(Note to reader: we are taking a break from our regularly scheduled programming - Interview with a Bunch of Guys I Tricked, but will return and with flourish in the days to come. Why? Because my ovaries hurt.)
Yesterday was a banner day for the OCD chick. First of all, there was leftover Chinese food so I had the distinct pleasure of having Mongolian Beef for breakfast. Yes it smelled so bad that one of the two Yorkie brothers buried his head under the sofa cushions. Yes it made me sick only a matter of 4 minutes later.
But still. It's the breakfast of Chinese champions.
Second, the wind in Kansas was about 400 miles per hour. That may not sound like a good thing to you, but I'm sort of in love with Kansas wind...so long as the wind is not shaped like a funnel. I like the sound very much. I also like that I have a valid excuse not to do my hair for approximately 2 months. I hate hair doing in all forms but save for the windy season, I succumb to peer pressure and do it anyway.
But the bestest of the best things to happen yesterday is that a key piece of a new venture in which I'm participating was put into place. If that sounds vague, please don't adjust your hearing aid. It is vague.
Ambiguous even.
I will say this much: I am going to be writing with an ensemble cast featuring two other women who are better than me in every way. They are blond and gorgeous and funny and smart and they never eat Chinese food for breakfast. (Although I would like them more if they did.)
This is a big deal kids and because of my deep and abiding love for you, I wanted you to be the first to know.
Right behind the Yorkie brothers, Mr. Man, the lady who answers the phone at Wong Pow's, my gynecologist, the guy who sold me my new tires, the fire baton repairman, the twenty-one year old guy I tried to cougar up on, my second cousin twice removed (from our family reunions because she has no teeth and we can't stand to watch her eat) and Dick Cheney.
He tortured me. You would have done the same thing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If you don't BLIP.fm kids,I can't be your friend anymore. Jeez. What are you waiting for?
Here's your song for the day by Lily Allen. Be forewarned - they are singing a very bad word that the OCD chick never says in this blog so send the kids outside before listening. I'd like to dedicate it to the person who made me mad yesterday. You suck.
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Yesterday was a banner day for the OCD chick. First of all, there was leftover Chinese food so I had the distinct pleasure of having Mongolian Beef for breakfast. Yes it smelled so bad that one of the two Yorkie brothers buried his head under the sofa cushions. Yes it made me sick only a matter of 4 minutes later.
But still. It's the breakfast of Chinese champions.
Second, the wind in Kansas was about 400 miles per hour. That may not sound like a good thing to you, but I'm sort of in love with Kansas wind...so long as the wind is not shaped like a funnel. I like the sound very much. I also like that I have a valid excuse not to do my hair for approximately 2 months. I hate hair doing in all forms but save for the windy season, I succumb to peer pressure and do it anyway.
But the bestest of the best things to happen yesterday is that a key piece of a new venture in which I'm participating was put into place. If that sounds vague, please don't adjust your hearing aid. It is vague.
Ambiguous even.
I will say this much: I am going to be writing with an ensemble cast featuring two other women who are better than me in every way. They are blond and gorgeous and funny and smart and they never eat Chinese food for breakfast. (Although I would like them more if they did.)
This is a big deal kids and because of my deep and abiding love for you, I wanted you to be the first to know.
Right behind the Yorkie brothers, Mr. Man, the lady who answers the phone at Wong Pow's, my gynecologist, the guy who sold me my new tires, the fire baton repairman, the twenty-one year old guy I tried to cougar up on, my second cousin twice removed (from our family reunions because she has no teeth and we can't stand to watch her eat) and Dick Cheney.
He tortured me. You would have done the same thing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If you don't BLIP.fm kids,I can't be your friend anymore. Jeez. What are you waiting for?
Here's your song for the day by Lily Allen. Be forewarned - they are singing a very bad word that the OCD chick never says in this blog so send the kids outside before listening. I'd like to dedicate it to the person who made me mad yesterday. You suck.
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Oh 2009. You're such a sassy bitch.
As you know if you've been reading WTCOMF for any length of time, I stopped blogging for nearly a whole year. After writing here since 2004, Blogger and I broke up and I vowed not to look back.
Only I did look back because I missed it awful. For me writing has always been about as important as food and water. I'm fond of saying it's my therapy.
I stopped blogging for many reasons, not the least of which was having my columns stolen again and again by women who honestly had the audacity to simply change a few words and pass them off as their own. That makes me hot - and not in a good way. Because what I write is my life essentially, it always feels as though these people are stealing some of what makes me who I am.
(Let's all take a moment to put a voodoo curse on each and every one of them.)
Another reason I gave up blogging was because turning out humor exclusively didn't feel real to me.
I am essentially a humor writer. That's a fact. I like to laugh and I see the funny in most situations. I like people who can make me laugh and I like the feeling writing something funny gives me. It's a purely selfish endeavor.
But that's not all of who I am and I'm to the point now in this fresh and sassy 2009 (which I personally have declared the year of the female bloggers) where I want to be whatever I want to be, whenever I want to be. And that, my darlings, will include this blog. Sometimes you'll think I'm funny and other times, you'll think I'm drunk.
That's OK with me. Especially since I am typically one or the other - and sometimes both.
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Only I did look back because I missed it awful. For me writing has always been about as important as food and water. I'm fond of saying it's my therapy.
I stopped blogging for many reasons, not the least of which was having my columns stolen again and again by women who honestly had the audacity to simply change a few words and pass them off as their own. That makes me hot - and not in a good way. Because what I write is my life essentially, it always feels as though these people are stealing some of what makes me who I am.
(Let's all take a moment to put a voodoo curse on each and every one of them.)
Another reason I gave up blogging was because turning out humor exclusively didn't feel real to me.
I am essentially a humor writer. That's a fact. I like to laugh and I see the funny in most situations. I like people who can make me laugh and I like the feeling writing something funny gives me. It's a purely selfish endeavor.
But that's not all of who I am and I'm to the point now in this fresh and sassy 2009 (which I personally have declared the year of the female bloggers) where I want to be whatever I want to be, whenever I want to be. And that, my darlings, will include this blog. Sometimes you'll think I'm funny and other times, you'll think I'm drunk.
That's OK with me. Especially since I am typically one or the other - and sometimes both.
Copyright © 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.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Divorce Was Never Really Final
January 20, 2008
That was the day I said "I quit". After four years, I kissed blogging gently on the forehead, handed it the bag I'd packed for it while it was at work and whispered "It's not you - it's me" as I pushed it out the front door and breathed a sigh of relief.
Divorce is such fun.
I didn't just break up with blogging for no good reason. I was going to write the Great American Novel and blogging was for sure the only thing keeping me from it.
Stupid blogging. Trying to keep me down.
Everyone in my world was shocked. "What are you going to do now?" they asked, as if I never did anything BUT blog. "What are WE going to do now?" they asked as if I even sorta half way cared.
So I set out to write my NY Times Best Seller. To read it in it's entirety, click here.
Since I still haven't found a publisher for my book, and since nice people like Jeff and Donna have given me email pep talks, and since I never really break up with anybody for good, blogging and I are going to try and get back together.
It may work, it may not. But what the hell? All this stuff has to get out of my head somehow and blogging was always a good listener.
Copyright © 2008, 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.
Blogroll Me!
That was the day I said "I quit". After four years, I kissed blogging gently on the forehead, handed it the bag I'd packed for it while it was at work and whispered "It's not you - it's me" as I pushed it out the front door and breathed a sigh of relief.
Divorce is such fun.
I didn't just break up with blogging for no good reason. I was going to write the Great American Novel and blogging was for sure the only thing keeping me from it.
Stupid blogging. Trying to keep me down.
Everyone in my world was shocked. "What are you going to do now?" they asked, as if I never did anything BUT blog. "What are WE going to do now?" they asked as if I even sorta half way cared.
So I set out to write my NY Times Best Seller. To read it in it's entirety, click here.
Since I still haven't found a publisher for my book, and since nice people like Jeff and Donna have given me email pep talks, and since I never really break up with anybody for good, blogging and I are going to try and get back together.
It may work, it may not. But what the hell? All this stuff has to get out of my head somehow and blogging was always a good listener.
Copyright © 2008, 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.
Blogroll Me!
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