On Sunday I posted a list of ten things that make me happy. I was naming them off the top of my head. It wasn't like I went through a long nomination and voting process to determine them, or the order. They weren't supposed to be my favorite things, just things that make me happy. I picked them randomly, and with an eye towards the absurd, and what might make people laugh.
Well, Tara wasn't laughing. In fact, she was mad. She didn't get that I said sarcasm made me happy, and that that meant her, she wanted to be mentioned by name, and left a comment to that affect.
Whatever. I don't even make the top ten? I got edged out by PASTA? Also - I don't like it that I'm now so far down the list of your blog topics. Below WORK and YOUR DOG. That's it, I'm not reading your damn blog anymore. Ok, I will, but I will no longer make Kent feel guilty for not reading it. Then I'm going to call your mom and we will talk about how YOUR STOVE IS DIRTY!See how mean she is? Tara doesn't just stick with normal insults, she has to cut to the core. She knows my soft spots, and goes right after them. Most people would have the decency not to go after my fears of a filthy stove, and an unread blog, but Tara isn't most people.
She hates this picture. Too bad, it makes me happy. So, because she scares me, I will admit it: Tara makes me happy. Oh, that sounds so gay. And not in a good homosexual way -- in a junior high insult way. Of course, the fact that she totally gets that, and will totally agree is one of the reasons she makes me happy. Well, that and our shared love of wine, pedicures, cheese, fun pants, and fried food. Oh, and making fun of bad television. And the plays of Edward Albee. I will even forgive her for holding her knowledge of said plays over my head. And yes, I know those last two sentences make us both sound like assholes.
Tara is pretty awesome. If she had been sitting right in front of me instead of a bowl of pasta and a glass of wine, she would have made the initial list. Of course, complaining about it got her a post of her own. I just hope this doesn't set a precedent.
Oh, man, I am so screwed.
13 comments:
Is she ACTUALLY #11? Just kidding. Hi Tara!
I understand Tara's complaint, but she's gotta understand, this is PASTA we are talking about here. And I see that the label "Me" is still by far at the top of your list.
It's nice of you to suck up to her like that. Can we see a picture of your stove?
First of all Kim, it is MY blog, and so "me" is, and will always be, first.
And no one sees my stove. It fills me with shame even in it's cleanest state.
I love it that she's going to call your mom. No matter how old you get, the fear of someone telling on you sucks.
By the way, my secret word is wormus. Worm us. Weird.
Tara sounds like an awesome bestie, but pasta... well it's pasta. :)
YAY! My plan worked! And I'm sorry about the stove comment, but desperate times... I would slurp spilled orange juice off your stove. If it was mixed with vodka. Good vodka. Your kitchen floor though...
Oh - also, thanks for busting out the "Rabid Raccoon" photo. Never gets old.
It's nice to have such a good friend who knows all about you.
I so love this!
And it partially explains his aging hippy look.
Everyone in California, or at least everyone I know, seems to drink, but there's also a liqour store on every damn corner, so I never run into long, lost farmers from my elementary school.
Beth
Damn, I am such an idiot. (Perhaps it's all that drinking.) The above comment was meant for your Farmer post, in case is wasn't completely apparent.
beth
Im not sure this would do it for me if I were you Tara...
I think we would be friends if we met in real life. I seriously do. (And that wasn't sarcasm. But of course you are free to believe what you will.)
Post a Comment