Posts Tagged ‘ blogging ’

A Brief and Meaningless Conversation About Social Media #HA

PRd00d: Hey @Marketingdood I love your stuff man!

Marketingd00d: @PRd00d Thanks for the follow, I love your stuff!

PRd00d: No! I love your stuff! RT @Marketingd00d Thanks for the follow, I love your stuff!

Marketingd00d: @PRd00d I love yours more!

PRd00d: @Marketingd00d NO WAY I LOVE YOURS WAY MORE!

Marketingd00d: @PRd00d NO WAY! #MyLoveForYourStuffIsAnOcean!

PRd00d: LOVE ITTTTT RT @Marketingd00d NO WAY! #MyLoveForYourStuffIsAnOcean!

Marketingd00d: @PRd00d I LOVE IT MORE!!!!!

PRd00d: @Marketingd00d Blow eachother by the dumpster behind Starbucks?

Marketingd00d: @PRd00d OF COURSE!

PRd00d: God, I love social media! #HASTAGGGZ

[Then they blew each other by the dumpster behind Starbucks and got social media aids]

Heaven, Day One, Conclusion

8:00pm: I got back to my hotel room 30 minutes ago. That makes it 8:00 if the analog clock by my bedside is correct, but I don’t really trust analog clocks, I should check my cell phone. It never fails me. The man who accused me of receiving a blowjob (an incredibly magical one) from his sister called me around 7:30, he said that within an hour he would be at my hotel room. I don’t know why I didn’t just agree to meet him at the bar, either way we’re destined to meet. At least I think we are. I am in Heaven after all, that must mean something.

There’s still time to leave, but I don’t where I would go, he has my cell phone number. I’m sure he’d find me somehow. Besides, I don’t get mysterious phone calls that often in my life. I should really take advantage of this opportunity. If what he says is true and I did get a blowjob from his sister, and if what the bearded Christ said is true, that she’s Jesus Christ, then that would make him Jesus’s brother. I didn’t know that Jesus had a brother. I don’t read the bible much but I’m pretty sure it’s not in there. Maybe there’s still time to go ask one of my new Christian friends from the seminar. “Hey, does Jesus have a brother? Or what if Jesus was a woman, what would you think?” It’s probably a bad idea. I’ve already done enough to complicate my situation here. What was I thinking? Heaven? A blowjob? I guess I had a choice about the blowjob, but I don’t think I did. I thought it was a dream, but according to the man on the phone there are no dreams in Heaven. That doesn’t make any sense. But then again Heaven really doesn’t make sense either. Especially a Hilton version of Heaven, not that I can be sure that this is the extent of Heaven, there could be other places to stay in Heaven. Maybe there’s a Double Tree Inn, or a Motel 6 for the poor people to stay in. All kinds of people get into Heaven, I’m assuming there’s some class structure here. We’re all civilized beings- I hope.

8:30pm: Sure enough, there’s somebody knocking on my door. I’m assuming it’s the man on the phone but I’ve got to check the peep hole, it could be room service and I know I didn’t order anything and I’d prefer not to be bothered if I’m going to become involved in any sort of endeavor that entails secret phone calls. The man in the peep hole looks like the fucking uni-bomber. His hair looks god awful. When’s the last time this guy showered? You’d think that if he was smart enough to get my number and know when I receive oral sex that he’d be well acquainted with this building, therefore being aware of the fantastic shower situation in the bathrooms. “Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s the guy from the, you know, phone. I was all like we can do stuff for each other and you got a blowjob from my sister or something. Remember?”

I did remember because it was an hour ago so I let the filthy mystery man in. For the purpose of me not having to use quotation marks in this conversation, I am WJ and he is DJ.

WJ: Hello, I’m Woe Jozney, but you already knew that. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the bar. I guess we were going to meet eventually, I’m sorry I was so reluctant to come meet you. It seemed like the right thing to do when you get a mysterious call. Like in the Davinci Code or something. I don’t know. Have you seen the Davinci Code? You know, with Tom Hanks?

DJ: No, I’m afraid not. I don’t have a lot of time to watch movies. When I do I mostly watch my Seinfeld VHS tapes.

WJ: I see. Well come sit down. There’s no reason we can’t have this conversation and be comfortable.

DJ: Yes, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you? I’m parched. Taking the elevator can be exhausting.

WJ: Yeah. I’ve got water. I might have some whiskey, but I’m not sure, I had some earlier when I…

DJ: When you?

WJ: Oh nothing. I mean- you know. The thing with your- you know- sister. Let’s forget about it, or not forget about it. But let me make you a drink.

[I opened the fridge and the Jameson was most certainly still there. I made the mystery man a drink]

DJ: Thanks, I love Jameson. I love all drinks actually. I usually just drink Canadian Hunter so this is a fucking treat.

WJ: I guess we should start with a proper introduction. Right? You know my name. What’s yours?

DJ: Oh yes, where are my manners? I apologize I’ve had a few today. I’m Drunk Jesus.

WJ: Drunk Jesus?

DJ: Yes, that’s my name. You know my sister from earlier, but then again who doesn’t? If I had a nickel every time she… Um. I shouldn’t talk that way about her. She’s a bit of a whore, but I mean that in the nicest way possible. She’s a nice girl, she just, you know.

WJ: First let me say that I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way. I was just trying to take a nap and I thought it was a dream so I didn’t think much of it. You know I normally would not accept fellatio from a girl with a beard. I’m not weird or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m a weirdo.

DJ: The beard’s fake.

WJ: No way

DJ: Way, she just wears it for fun. She likes to wear it during intercourse, it’s just the way she rolls.

WJ: Man, if I would have known I would have taken it off.

DJ: That’s what they all say.

WJ: But wait, was it real? I mean, was it a dream or-

DJ: Shit if I know man. Do you mind making me another drink?

WJ: Sure, it’s no problem. I’m just wondering because you said that dreams don’t existing in Heaven and I’m pretty sure it was a dream but-

DJ: It’s a contractual obligation with the Hilton. It’s really complicated. I’m not super involved in the management here, I’m kind of the village idiot. Boss Jesus takes care of most of those things.

WJ: Boss Jesus?

DJ: Oh shit. I’ve said too much.

WJ: It’s okay, I can keep a secret. Just tell me. It’s fine.

DJ: Things are gonna get weird after this. Do you understand that?

WJ: Well, I already got a blowjob from a bearded female Christ so it’s not that weird, but I guess the beard was fake so it wasn’t as weird.

DJ: But you believed it was real.

WJ: That’s not my point. I’m just saying I can handle whatever it is you tell me.

DJ: Really?

WJ: Really.

DJ: Well fuck, I guess we’ll start at the beginning.

Drunk Jesus and I ordered another bottle of Jameson, two bottles of sangria, and a four pack of sugar free redbulls from the room service. He was going to explain everything to me, but he had a joint with him and after we smoked it he passed out cold. I’m pretty stoned right now so I’m gonna put on the Discovery Channel and pass out. Jesus Christ this guy snores like a motherfucker. Counting Sheep. 1…2…3…4…5..6…..

Heaven Day One, Part II

4:00pm: The hamburger dinner was fantastic. Swiss cheese, mushrooms, bacon. Total mouthgasm. I downed about four mojitos in ten minutes so I was feeling social. I got to know a few of my fellow Christians. Deb and Craig are a couple from Oklahoma City. They’re lifelong believers, they’re getting married in November, and they’re waiting until marriage to pork each other. I guess that’s what a good Christian does, right? They want to have kids as soon as possible. I raised issue about aging in Heaven. If we age for eternity we’ll turn into crusty sacks of flesh as time goes by. But if there is no aging, their children will be toddlers forever, and that can’t be fun. I told them they should not procreate and they assured me that they are praying to Jesus Christ to let their child age in Heaven. Pray? Who prays? Oh- that’s right. I’m a Christian now and what Christians do is pray. What Christians don’t do includes anal sex, smoking pot, smoking DMT, and being untruthful. Where the hell H-E-double-hockey-sticks is Jesus? I’ve got some questions. Apparently we’re all supposed to go watch a 3-D screening of The Passion of the Christ, but I’m kinda drunk so I’m just gonna go back to the hotel room and take a power nap before the next seminar at 7:00pm.

5:30pm: I had the weirdest dream. It might just be the mojitos, but I could swear to God the dream was real. I was in my hotel room like I am right now, but it felt like it was the middle of the night. I woke up to the sounds of local news. I looked over at the other bed, there he was- Jesus Christ. But he wasn’t a he. He was a she, but she still had a beard. She said, “Do not approach me. Go to the fridge and pour me a whiskey on ice.” I told her I didn’t have any whiskey but she said, “I believe that you do.” I opened my fridge. There was a half full bottle of Jameson. I don’t remember buying any Jameson. I didn’t even know they sold liquor in Heaven. “Be a sweetheart and pour me a drink now.” I poured her drink and sat down beside her on the bed. I opened my lips to speak but she silenced them with her finger. She took the drink from my hands and dipped her finger in it. “Suck on it.” I did. It was dark but I could make out her silhouette. She seemed to be quite the woman. Almost like the meaty French girl in Irreversible. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but yeah huge tits and a nice ass, you know the drill.

Still sucking on her finger, I scraped my nails up and down her thighs, made my way up her side. I wanted to touch her breasts but I wasn’t feeling particularly bold. Who was she? My fingers stepped off of the edge of her dress onto the her shoulders. Gently, in one of those incredibly light but intense ways your gay theater teacher might touch you when he’s trying to make a point about motivation, I found my way up her neck. I felt her beard and stopped. She pulled her finger out of my mouth. “I am a Jesus. I am one of many Jesuses. I do have a beard, but it’s just part of my job. I assure you I am a woman. Here, feel my breasts.” She took my hand in hers and shoved them down the top of her dress. “Do you feel those? Those are real breasts. I assure you.” I felt them. She was right. I don’t think I’d ever touched breasts that nice. I’m usually an ass man, but shit. Multiple Jesuses?

“Make me another drink young man.” I went back to the fridge and made her another drink. “Do you want to see me better young man?” I did but she told me to wait. I took a sip from her drink and heard each tooth on her zipper open itself up. I heard her legs wiggling their way out of her tight dress. At last, I heard her dress crumple on the floor, followed by silence, confirming the nude condition of the female and bearded Christ in my hotel room.

“Now,” she said, “I want you to walk over to my side, hand me my drink, and walk back over to that side of the room. I want you to turn the bathroom light on and leave the door open, but just barely cracked. Okay?” I said okay and followed her orders. “Now come over here young man.” I, of course, followed her orders. She took my hands in hers and gave me a very thorough anatomical tour confirming that despite her beard she was in fact a woman, and quite a woman at that. She positioned herself in front of me and unbuttoned my pants. Using her holy tongue, she extracted my earthly vessel. Her beard felt so strange against my sensitive skin as she made her way towards me, accepting everything without hesitation. As her warm mouth consumed all of me, I forgot about the beard and plunged myself deep into my Lord and Savior. I used the Lord’s name in vain several times, but I don’t think she minded.

When I was finished she slipped me back into my boxers and buttoned my pants up. She kissed the button on my pants. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see her face. She smiled. “Did you enjoy that? Mr. Earthling?” I told her I did, she laughed. For a moment I thought the beard was cute. This was just a dream, so it’s okay. It’s not that weird. Weirder things happen in dreams and this must be a dream, right? She squeezed her magnificent ass back into her dress. I tried to imagine her as an ordinary woman. She could have been Deb from the hamburger dinner. I might have fucked Deb, but I knew it wasn’t Deb. She really was Jesus, but a girl, but with a beard.

When her breasts were most likely secured in place she summoned me to zip her up. I did, she thanked me, handed me her empty glass, and kissed me on the cheek. Yet again, I felt her Christ beard bristling against my cheek. I watched her ass move from side to side as she let herself out. Exhausted, I crawled back into bed and fell asleep. Or woke up. Or, I don’t know.

7:00pm: Woke up rather disorientated and made my way back to the conference rooms. Maybe it was the mojitos, or that weird dream, but I was more than kind of freaked out. I mean, I always imagined Jesus to be a man, but if he was a she, why the beard? I mean if Christ was always a woman, why did they ever paint all those pictures of her as a man? It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all this trouble of concealing her gender identity? We would have accepted a female Christ if that was all we ever knew, that’s how things work. And where did the image of the beard come from? This doesn’t make sense. I mean, it was only a dream. But I don’t know how dreams work here. This is Heaven, dreams could be different here. They could monitor my dreams and revoke my Christianity. What if it was just regular Jesus manifested as a woman with huge breasts? Then what? Jesus sucked my dick and that might make me gay, but then he’d be gay too and a shape shifter. Shit, I’m in trouble- I’ll bet they can read dreams here. I need another mojito. Jesus Christ, how many drinks have I had today? It’s only 7:00pm, I need to slow down. But I did take a nap. That takes at least two drinks off the list. One quick drink and then back to the conference rooms. It’s okay to be a little bit late, I show up late to work all the time and they’re fine with it. Heaven can’t be that different.

7:30pm: Got a quick mojito and smoked a cigarette really fast before the seminar. I ran up to the conference rooms. Trying to enter unnoticed, I heard a voice. It was the fucking woman! Or at least I thought it was. She was standing at the podium. “Excuse me sir, can we help you?” I explained that was there for the seminar and sorry for being late and blah and blah. “Well, why are you late? What were you doing before this?” What the fuck? There’s no way she…but she…AH. I told her I was sleeping and that my alarm didn’t go off. “That seems reasonable, come have a seat up at the front.” She winked at me. Shit, she knows that I know that… Did I get blowjob from Jesus Christ as a woman with a beard? She had the same dress on. It was dark in my dream or whatever, but I knew it was the same dress. Her voice was so familiar. She kept looking over at me and smiling. She didn’t introduce herself as Female Christ, but she still had the beard. I knew I had to get out. As soon as I got out of the door, my phone rang.

Caller: Woe Jozney?
Me: Yes. Can I help you?
Caller: Maybe you can. Maybe you can’t.
Me: What’s this all about?
Caller: I don’t know. You did get a blowjob from my sister.
Me: What are you talking about?
Caller: I think you know.
Me: No way, that was just a dream.
Caller: There are no dreams in Heaven.
Me: What are you talking about?
Caller: Meet me at the bar in 1 hour.
Me: No way. I’m going back to my room. Fuck off.
Caller: I mean no harm Woe Jozney. Just meet me at the bar.
Me: No.
Caller: Fine. I will find you in an hour. I will see you then.
Me: But-

He hung up.

…to be continued…

My Trip to Heaven. Day One, Part I

6:30am: Woke up totally hungover, vomited in the bathroom and took a quick shower. I decided not to fold my laundry, if you catch my drift. I wonder if Jesus knows if you masturbated earlier in the day when he shakes your hand. Probably. Also, would Jesus like me more with facial hair or without? I mean he does have a big beard. At least I think he does. I’m not sure. Running late, oh well. No shave for Jesus after all. Taxi is here! Feeling pretty pumped. Heaven or bust motherfuckers!

7:20am: Arrived at NASA in Houston. They arranged a pretty sweet ChristShuttle to send me up to the pearly gates. I really wanted to tweet about it, but I’m pretty sure it’s like a super secret. Ate a bagel, strawberry cream cheese, some OJ. NASA rules!

8:30am: Inside the ChristShuttle. This thing is bad fucking ass. Leather seats, two big screens, espresso machine. I mean, fuck heaven- I could live in here forever. Oh well. Launching in 5….4…3…2…1….WEEEEEE…..

9:00am: Space is fucking cool. I mean, really fucking cool. So is this espresso machine. Dynamite coffee. Fucking dynamite. ETA 11:00am. Activate the hyperspace drive. WEEE….

11:00am: Just arrived in Heaven. Definitely not what I expected. It’s basically a badass Hilton. I think I saw a Hilton sign actually. Oh well. Checking in at the front desk. Front desk angel is hot. No joke. The wing thing is a little weird, but I could get over it. I wonder if God has video cameras here. Can he tell I’m blogging? Fuck….Shit….Okay nothing yet. Shit, I should be on better behavior. Okay- clean thoughts, clean thoughts, puppies, clouds, banana nut muffins, puppies.

11:15am: Checked into my room. It’s pretty nice. The bed is made out of clouds and it’s just unbelievably comfortable. I thought my sleep number was the end all be all, but my God. Amazing. I’m kind of upset that there’s no HBO on the cable but they do have Showtime. Armageddon is on right now. I’d love to watch it, but I have a meeting in 10 minutes. Oh well. Oh don’t let me forget- the shower is incredible. There’s like three heads and the water pressure is absolutely perfect. I’d really like to find out what conditioner they have in here. There’s no label, but my hair feels unbelievable. I could get used to a place like this. Thus far, Heaven is okay in my book. Really excited to meet Jesus today. w00t!

11:45am: Introduction to Heaven seminar in the conference room. Spent like 20 minutes trying to find the right room. I figured they’d put the right room number on the flyer- nope! Totes frustrating. Finally find the room, walk in late, everyone was totally awkward about it. I tried to explain and they all just gave me weird looks.

There’s tons of donuts- no kolaches. Why is it that every fucking seminar I go to always has donuts and no kolaches? I mean kolaches aren’t that good for you but they’re better than donuts. Sorry God, I don’t want to be a diabetic for eternity. Jesus Christ I’m grumpy. Shit I shouldn’t be saying the Lord’s name in vain. Sorry Jesus. Anyways, the seminar was all right. Lots of PowerPoints on the rules and regulations. Thus far I’ve gathered:
-No running the in the hallways.
-No sinning whatsoever
-No growing a beard bigger than that of your Lord and Savoir Jesus Christ.
-No claiming you are Jesus Christ.
-Make sure you timesheets are submitted in PDF format.
-No cursing
-No drugs

Sounds do-able. I peaced out of the seminar early to hit the Hotel Heaven bar. Mexican Martini for the win. We’ve got a three hour break before the next seminar. Two more Mexican Martinis and a killer nap sounds fucking fantastic. Shit- I mean freaking fantastic. I’m getting better at this not cursing thing. I mean, is God even listening? I’m a terrible Christian. I feel bad. Oooo! There’s that guilt! Maybe I am becoming a Christian after all!

3:00pm: Hit up the heavenly team building seminar in another conference room. We went over a lot of information, mostly geared towards how we should prepare for the end times and what do when the four horsemen gallop over the hills of justice bearing fire and brimstone. We were given our departure points and tickets, they also emailed us back up copies in case we lose the hard copy. Apparently, God just installed a new digital believer management system . One of the things they talked about was my contact with non believers. I’m kind of concerned.

I’m a long time atheist, first time believer. The departure times for the apocalypse aren’t for another 2 years. What am I going to do when I get back? Stop living in sin with my girlfriend? Stop smoking weed with Donald from downstairs? Stop watching porn with my landlord once a month? I guess I’ve got some major lifestyle changes to think about.  Heaven is real and all, that much I know. But how am I going to keep this whole Christian thing up? Maybe I should have waited until a year before the end times to become a Christian. Two years is a long time to not fuck shit up or hurt my friends and family’s feelings. I’d hate to have to break up with my pagan girlfriend and stop hanging out with my Wiccan friends. But the showers! It’s so nice here. Jeez, I need another Mexican Martini. Hopefully we get to meet Jesus later and he’ll straighten all of this out. We’re breaking for an early dinner. Hamburgers and mojitos!

…to be continued….

#Mommyblogging Day Five

Day 5: When I started this #mommyblogging experiment, my intentions were clear. I wanted to become a mommyblogger so that I could make money and get lots of followers and then eventually write a book about A) being a mother or B) blogging about being a mother. It’s been 5 whole days and I have yet to receive any emails indicating a book deal might come my way. I’m wondering if this whole mom thing is really even worth it. I mean, I spent like god knows how much purchasing Admiral Ackbar, not to mention the cost of skittles, breast milk, and child care. It’s really tough being a mother in this economy. I mean, if I don’t get a book deal soon, how will I afford to send Admiral Ackbar to AC repair school?

I see all these young people looking beautiful, buying mojitos and beers with Spanish names- they don’t understand what it’s like to be a mother. I fucking love seven dollar wine, but you know what? If I drink two bottles of seven dollar wine a day, I can’t afford the skittles and Robitussin baby Ackbar needs.  And so I drink three dollar bottles of wine. Do you even know what three dollar bottles of wine taste like? No you don’t, because you probably drink seven dollar bottles of wine. Fucking yuppies.

I’m sorry if I seem emotional right now, it must be all the hormones. Since I became a mother, my body’s been changing. I sweat a lot, my balls don’t feel right, I’m eating way too much ice cream. All I want to do is curl up in bed and cry, but then Admiral Ackbar starts to cry too and the sound just gets unbearable and then my neighbor Steve comes over and tells me to “shut the god-forsaken-fuck up,” and then we get in a yelling match and I lose Admiral Ackbar and have to leave skittle traps all over the apartment so I can find him and get him tussed up and ready for bed by 10:00. UGH.

Anyways, the point of this post is that I think I need to start making youtube videos of my baby. I mean what’s the point in having a baby if you can’t make youtube videos with them? I really think this could step my blog game up, you know, diversify content, streamline media, whatever. Anyways, I went to Walmart and got one of those flip video cameras. I sat Ackbar down in front of the camera and guess what happened…. NOTHING.

He didn’t do anything funny, he didn’t throw up or fall down, he didn’t make any crazy faces. I tried to put on a Smash Mouth CD in hopes he would dance, but he just started crying. I mean who wants to watch a video of a baby crying to Smash Mouth? And it’s not just Smash Mouth- I tried Coldplay, Van Morrison, Rick James. Nothing. Way to go Admiral Ackbar. You can’t dance, can’t make funny faces, is there anything you can do? Sometimes I wonder if you give a shit. I started #mommyblogging for you, well kind of, it’s more for me, but I bought you for the blog. Doesn’t that mean shit? Maybe I should have gotten the asian baby, what do you think about that Mr. Ackbar? You’d still be in a cardboard box in the back of a Pets Mart being cared for by a mentally handicapped guy named….

….deep breaths….

I’m sorry Admiral Ackbar. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just get so caught up in being internet famous and wanting to make vidz that I forget what really matters. Being a mother- your mother, and blogging about it. I’m such a terrible mother. I can’t believe I got mad at you for not dancing. You can’t help it, you’re just a baby.

You know, it would be cool to have funny videos and get lots of likes on Facebook, but at the end of the day that’s not what being a mom is all about. Being a mom is about loving without condition. And caring, and sharing, and taking that little bugger you love in your arms, puttin on ESPN, and letting him suckle on your tussin soaked finger till he drifts off to dreamland. Then, and only then, do you fall asleep knowing you’re a good mother. (Wine helps me sleep too, but that’s not the point. I’m trying to be sentimental)

Till Tomz,

#mommyblogger

#Mommyblogger Day Four

Day 4: Okay guys, I’ve made it through four whole days of being a #mommyblogger. I think I’m starting to get the hang of this now. I’ll drop some #mommyknowledgebombs (tips) on you right quick.

Mommy Tip #1) Get a nanny. Children are great and cute and you love them and all that, but honestly- they cry, shit, throw up, and whatever all day long.  It can be really tiring. Mommy’s hungover when she wakes up in the morning, baby Ackbar thinks he’s the only one who gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep. If you can’t afford to get a nanny you’re probably poor and don’t read blogs anyways.

Mommy Tip #2) Babies love candy. When Admiral Ackbar is good, he gets sour skittles. It’s a good way to introduce your children to the food pyramid. Always start at the top- that’s where the sour skittles are! When your child starts to run off the tracks of the sugar high, dip your finger (or nipple) in some tussin and let it take them away to sleep land. Rinse and repeat.

Mommy Tip #5) Pay extra and get the nanny with breast milk. They’re hard to find but I’ll be damned if the color hasn’t returned to Admiral Ackbar’s skin. Admiral Ackbar looks so healthy now.

I’m really proud of myself. I finally feel like I’m getting the hang of this thing. Now that he doesn’t look all nasty and white, I think I’ll take some pictures of him. That’s something all mothers do, it’s one of the cornerstones of the mothering process. When he grows up to graduate from AC Repair School, he’s gonna look back at his first moments in the world and say, “well, I’ll be fucked. That’s so crazy, we were are all once babies, we all turn into people, and I love you mom.” I’ll agree with him and we’ll drink wine together for the first time and all these years of hard work as a mother will have paid off. And then I can say,

Dear other #mommybloggers,
Fuck your shit, and fuck it hard. I did it, did it right. My kid’s got an associates degree and a kid of his own with that girl in the trailer next door. Suck my #mommyblogging dick.

I know it’s only day four and Admiral Ackbar’s 18th birthday is a long way away, but I can’t help being excited. This is all too much, my brain can’t take it today. I need a glass of wine, a diet coke, and a cigarette. I’ll be on twitter later if you want to talk about mothering or TV.

Take Care,

#mommybloggerwoejozney

Mommy Blog Day 1!!!!

Life’s been tough here at the blog.  We’ve been trying to expand our content into new areas, but our writing staff has been on a bath salt binge.  Our posts have been lacking in quality and we’ve suffered significant blows to the amount of traffic we’ve been receiving.  In an effort to save the shape of junk to come, I am converting the blog to a mom blog.  I know- I know.  I’m not a mother or whatever, but mom blogs are in.  I read some articles about social media and what people want- it’s all about the mom blogs.  Since I do not have a vajayjay, I cannot birth a child of my own. To make matters more difficult, my girlfriend is not as enthusiastic as I would hope about getting pregnant for the sake of my blog.  Despite all this, I managed to secure a small child for a reasonable price.  Don’t ask don’t tell folks.  So I’ve got this kid, it’s a boy.  Now it’s time to be a mommy blogger.  Where do I start?

Day 1: Here I am, mommy blogging.  Got my laptop, my brain, and this thing- or rather child.  I guess I should name it.  Kids have names.  Moms know that kind of stuff.  I guess I’m already becoming a mom- this is really exciting.  I can’t wait to share this journey I’m taking with moms all over the internet.  I’m thinking of crowd-sourcing (social media buzz yall) the child’s name.  What do you guys think?

@woejozney: name my child!  new #mommyblogger contest!  winner gets a t-shirt with a picture of my child on it! itz a boi!

2 hours later this social media brainstorming session is really kicking into high gear.  Thus far for name ideas I have:

Rex, Maxamillion, Seth, Joel, Steven, Topher, Zach, Fredrick, Matt, and a bunch of other names I don’t really like.

Well shit, what do I name him?  I guess I don’t really need to name him yet, I’ll wait till I get more retweets.  I kinda like just calling him “kid.”  Kid won’t stop crying, what do I do?  He needs milk I guess.  What kind of milk do babies drink?  2%?  Skim?  God- I wish I was a better mother.  I can’t wait to become a better mother and share that experience with the world.  I really do want to be a good mom.  Do I need to download some e-books?  Would that help?  I need a drink, this whole being a mom thing is really stressing me out.  Moms drink, right?  But what do moms drink?  That is the question!  I guess I should start drinking wine.  No more Lonestar Tall Boys for me, I’m a mother.  I’m going to drink white wine and meet other moms at the gym and we’ll go out for drinks on Friday afternoons and talk about our kids and what happened on Dancing With the Stars last night.  Being a mom blogger is awesome!  Fuck– this kid is still crying!  What the fuck do I need to do to make it shut up?  I need a glass of wine.

Laters,

Your new mommy blogger!