Ok, I've set up the ability to follow my blog. I did this to see if any of my readers care enough to come back for seconds. So far, the answer is no. No worries, I'm sure you're like me, you read it, have a chuckle and never come back again. You ungrateful bastards. You don't comment to tell me how brilliant I am or what a miserable piece of shit I am. The least you could do is click the fucking ads and sign up to follow me so I can laugh at you for following me.
I took my son to school the other day and the head teacher came over to say hello to me. She told me she adores my boy, how he's got an unbelievable sense of humor for a 3 year old (I heard the same thing about my daughter when she was 3) and how he is the sweetest, kindest kid. I had to confirm that we were talking about my son, the one who told the sales girl at the costume shop that he can't get a sword because "I hit my sister with the last one and my dad had to throw it away." Seems my son is an angel in public. I guess that's a good thing.
Anyway, the teacher then goes on to tell me that they've been learning about elections and they will be holding a class election at the end of the week (yesterday actually) so the class can vote on the name of the class fish. I asked them what the choices were and she said "Ariel and Nemo." She then said "your son was really excited about this and he tried really hard to get everyone to vote for his choice." And what was his choice? Floogin McNoogin! The assistant teachers, upon hearing our conversation, all chimed in, telling me they all loved the name and thought it was hysterical but, sadly, they can only pick the two most nominated names for the voting process. The end result was that Ariel won because the class is two thirds girls. When my son told me that Ariel won, I asked him who he voted for and he said "Floogin." I said that I thought he could only vote for Ariel or Nemo and he said "yes but I didn't like those choices so I added my own choice." Gotta love the kid for not accepting the limitations on fish naming. On the flip side, I'm not too thrilled with the boy wanting to name a fish that will die in a week after dear old dad.
As I wrote this the market continued on its downward spiral so, again, click the god damned links and have a great weekend.
Friday, October 24, 2008
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14 comments:
Sounds like my parent teacher conferences. Emily is a joy and very pleasant but when I get her after school it is "fuck you mom"
Grr
gotta love those sweet, innocent exteriors.
Oh, my, you have to be a writer. And I mean that in the best way possible.
The despairing neediness, saddled with caustic quips and a flair for livening the unusual to hilarious proportions.
Artistic temperment and in dire straits to get laid, as are all vernacular artists.
Intriguing and funny, might as well call you T.S. Garp; shit just happens to you.
despairing neediness, artistic temperment, dire straits to get laid?
please stop with the flattery.
If I suffered the weight of emotions, I might be insulted by these comments. Fortunately, I am a heartless bastard so sticks and stones and all that crap.
i assure you, neither of those, on my front, were meant as insults.
As a writer, I'm needy, in a sense of appreciation for my works.
Besides, you were the one who wanted someone to reassure you that you're either brilliant or what-not.
Your vernacular and tempo borders on brilliance, and needing to get laid was just something I thought was overdue (possibly from a different post).
As for the deprecation- please. Heartless bastards have little depth. You've proven yourself wrong, Mr. McNoogin. (or whatever your name is).
well, now I want to read your work and, for the record, Floogin McNoogin is my real name. Not many McNoogin's in your neck of the woods?
No McNoogin's that I know of, although familiar with scalp-lacerated McNoogies in my youth (not that long ago).
And Floogin McNoogin as a real name? I hope not. No offense, but if that were true, you wouldn't be the only person in your family with a sense of humor.
I have, however, known a couple Floggin' McNoggin's in my day (McNoggin as the little head). That's...well, by that statement, description need not apply.
I find it hard to believe someone who goes by the name foxy roxy has come across a flacid mcnoggin.
I thought all 6 of the people who read this thing knew me. How did you come across this blog?
By pure accident.
I spend my days either writing or researching on my computer, and while surfing, I'll sometimes end up a great distance from where I started.
I must admit, I don't read many blogs- hardly none. But yours struck a cord; anecdotal humor, which a great many men no longer have, beyond Robin Williams.
You're not Robin Williams, are you?
Nope, not Robin Williams. Might be Mork though. Could you be my Mindy?
I'm curious as to what search might have brought you to me. I once spent an hour googling things to see if the blog came up and even googling floogin mcnoogin failed me.
You have yet to tell me where I can read some of your prose.
I was researching a few tid-bits on doomsday, martial law conspiracy theories and mulling over an idea, hit on a few links (don't know how, what i know about computers i can fit into my coffee cup), and voila.
After a few laughs, I added it to a list of favorites and never went looking for it.
my work? mainly short stories in circulation. Currently, a novel in progress concerning genetic engineering, aliens, and rfid tags used as behavior control that turn the population at whole into homicidal zombie-esque beings whose brains were fried by high frequency radiation...
I have a deranged, dark and dirty imagination, and it's hard to synopsize a work in progress.
the short stories wouldn't bring up any hits, though, I've tried. And am now sensitive to the shit, as my grandma called my latest short "cute" the other day.
Cute? It was about a family who helped other survivors in a doomsday famine scenario, led them to a cabin in the woods, lulled them into comfort with food, killed them and ate them.
Awful, I know, but I loved the irony; lured by food to become food. Talk about gross.
i've read too much Stephen King.
if i don't watch it, my replies will scale to epics in length.
and mindy...? now there's something for me to ponder.
No worries, I can scale down your manifesto styled responses into neat, compartmentalized responses that will appear grandma cute.
I want to read the shorts. Send me a link, an email or whatever. My curiousity is piqued.
I'd send you the latest, soon-published as it's at my fingertips (with an added couple hours to do one more round to edit).
But i have no fucking clue where to e-mail it to.
should be available in my profile, if not, crakeur@gmail.com
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