Well, when I started this blog, I actually thought I would blog. On it. Frequently. That I would join the ranks of the witty, scathing satirists and snarkophiles, my URL getting ladeled over blogrolls across the interwebs with great abandon. Yes, people would come to my blog, and they would comment, and give me one of those virtual noogies or a punch in the shoulder about just how great that last post was, and really, why haven’t you written a book yet because you’re just that damn good/funny/charming/obnoxious? I’d get a bunch of trackbacks and tweets with those wierd tiny urls. Fawning posts on other blogs about how they were gonna blog about this or that, but Cheeze already did it, and really, just go read his post instead of mine. Yes, you can almost see the little sparkles in my eyes as I gaze off, slightly up and to the left at that classic angle, fingers curved and set lightly under my chin, with a vague, distant smile as I let it all play out in my head.
Well, when I started this blog, I didn’t plan on having all my internal organs ripped out and replaced with radioactive sand. But I digress.
I’m still trying to come to grips with this whole separation thing. Some days I’m all self-righteous and angry about what SHE is doing TO me, and then next I’m all melancholy and angsty, wondering what it was I did to make this happen. And then I’m back with the, “I’ve done so much, tried so hard, how come it’s never enough?!?” Only to cycle over into picking over every mistake, holding it up, looking at it in great, morose detail, then smashing myself in the forehead with it over and over again.
It’s hard not to write about something when it’s consuming your life, but I really don’t want this to turn into a whinging ooh-I’m-getting-divorced blog. Because, yeah, THAT’S the way to keep your customers coming back for more! Now with even MORE 13-year-old emo drama in every bite! Ga’ak.
Is there an apostrophe in “Ga’ak?” Gaak? Probably not, eh?
So, how about those debates, eh? Romney really brung it, right? I didn’t actually see either one, but I’ve read a lot of blog posts about them, so that’s pretty much the same thing. I honestly don’t understand how Obama is still in the running for anything other than the guy who wipes down the chrome on your car after you take it through the car wash. Considering what a hash he’s made of our economy, our national prestige, and just about everything else he’s touched, I’da thought even the Democrats could have run somebody against him and won. But no, it looks like the cult of Obama is a strong as ever.
Now if only my marriage had that kind of staying power. Damn. Did it again. Sorry.
I fear that my chosen means of dealing with the stress will be food, and I will balloon myself up to 200 pounds. Because THAT’S what a woman want in her man. Uncontrolled obsessive eating. Not that it matters at this point, DOES IT?! NO! A LITTLE LATE NOW, ISN’T IT?!
Crap. Gotta quit that.
So, yeah, elections coming up. Got my absentee ballot. No, you don’t get to know where I live. I plan to be an informed voter and actually research all the candidates in my local election, even though I haven’t actually lived in my “home” states for eight years. No, you don’t get to know that either. Okay, it’s Washington state. But that’s it. That’s all you get.
I have a sort of cynical attitude towards absentee ballots. I figure their like some sort of consolation prize, or the trophy that everyone gets these days at the end of the soccer season, so that you can feel like you actually participated, even though everybody knows they don’t actually count for shit. Kind of like everything I’ve tried to do in my MARRIAGE for the last 17 YEARS!
Heavy sigh. My sincerest apologies. I guess I really do need to go have a quiet time somewhere. Maybe have a few drinks. Mellow out a bit. Because, I mean, after all it doesn’t matter if I drink NOW, DOES IT, HONEY?! DOES IT?!