It came to my attention today that there are 3 people in this world who regularly read my blog and those three people are probably worrying themselves sick that I’m dead, or they just can’t find out how to unsubscribe from me on Google Reader. But if it’s the former, you should know I’m not dead. I’m just kind of tired. Of life AND the Internet. Both are just pretty lame for me right now.
For instance, people stopped using Facebook about three months ago. The people who used to have updates every day are gone. Or maybe they blocked me. Or maybe thats just me not knowing how the hell to see statuses since FB just randomly changes stuff around all the time. Where did everybody go? What is the new Facebook so I can sign up quickly and be smug about what a trend-setter I am?
And in the blogging world, it seems like everyone has really slowed down as well. I mean, perhaps everything that can be said, has been said and there isn’t a single new thing to blog about. So if the collective Internet machine is going to take a break, so am I. I need to be inspired. By some really great blogging or good stories or Oprah and Ellen on the “O” cover or something. So if you’re reading this and you have a blog – go write something good. Please. The Internet NEEDS YOU right now. So does Love.
My five year old has recently become inspired — by a posthumous Michael Jackson. He begs me to play Smooth Criminal and They Don’t Really Care About Us and Thriller all the time. And that would be fine, except then he insists that I watch him dance. And that would be fine, except he never stops AND then he wants a critique. And that isn’t fine, because I have an Internet to surf, albeit a lame one.
Like a good mother, I tell him that he keeps getting better and you know what he tells me? That God whispers in his ear at night about new dance moves that he can “magically” do in the morning. I don’t know how I feel about this. Maybe my kid is schizo. Or maybe even from the grave, Michael Jackson is trying to lure small boys to grab their crotches and do pelvic thrusts so Michael can clap in heaven. I already have a history of having angels talk to me, so now I’m perturbed that Michael Jackson is my son’s angel and the next thing you know, he is going to want a hyperbaric chamber for Christmas. Or a chimp. Or MacCauley Culkin in sequined pants — none of which is in the budget (although I should check into the MacCauley thing – at this point in his career he might fit in the budget…). So needless to say, I have a lot going on these days trying to save my son’s soul from a dead Michael Jackson, but it still isn’t that inspiring and not enough for a whole blog. I guess if it does become enough for an entire post, I’m screwed.
Be well, Internet. I will be back when I find something I’m excited to write about again.
I live to talk a lot about Oprah. You know that already if you’ve read anything I’ve ever written, or had a conversation with me that lasts over 3.4 minutes.
Hopefully, you have read Love’s Law #1. I have found further recent proof from one of my favorite blogs that I’m not the only one creeped out by mustaches. Meg from 2birds1blog wrote yesterday:
– Speaking of ridiculous things my sister has said, the other day we were discussing her intense love of mustaches when she mentioned how excited she was because it’s almost, “mustache season.” Apparently, mustache season begins after Labor Day ends, in a sort of reverse White Pants Rule kind of way. Or as Becca puts it, “When the white pants go away, the mustaches come out to play.”
I have never felt so completely molested by a sentence in my entire life.
Wowsers! Her sister is fucked up! But I see that the first thing that entered her mind was molestation. I’m not the only one.
Anyway, Oprah always asks people what they know for sure. From my last post I learned a few more things for sure:
John Mayer is indeed a douche. But we wouldn’t kick him out of bed.
Michael Jackson is asexual. Except it appears that Nel doesn’t think so and she was x5. However, now I know for sure I don’t want to know what MJ did or didn’t do with small children. Oprah didn’t even weigh in on this in her tribute to Michael Jackson. She is of zero value here.
If you marry a rock star or pro athlete (except Herschel Walker) you’re ridiculous if you think they aren’t going to screw around on you. Read: buy your famous husband condoms so you don’t get any of that nastiness coming home.
But I will admit to the world today that Oprah wrote down in the November 2008 “O” Magazine all the 20 things she knows for sure and I carry it around with me everywhere. (Stop it. At least I’m being honest).
So today I’ve decided to recreate that list as Love’s Law’s #2 – 21, but know that they are straight from Oprah’s mouth because I don’t want her to sue me because I don’t even have a lawyer. On second thought, if she sues me does that mean I get to see her in court? That might be so worth it.
Love’s Laws #2 -21 – What I believe (and you should too) since Oprah knows it for sure:
What you put out comes back all the time, no matter what.
You define your own life. Don’t let other people write your script.
Whatever someone did to you in the past has no power over the present. Only you give it power.
When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.
Worrying is wasted time. Use the same energy for doing something about whatever worries you.
What you believe has more power that what you dream or hope or wish for. You become what you believe.
If the only prayer you ever say is thank you, that will be enough.
The happiness you feel is in direct proportion to the love you give.
Failure is the sign post to turn you in another direction.
If you make a choice that goes against what everyone else thinks, the world will not fall apart.
Trust your instincts. Intuition doesn’t lie.
Love yourself and then learn to extend that love to others in every encounter.
Let passion drive your profession.
Find a way to get paid for doing what you love. Then every paycheck will be a bonus.
Love doesn’t hurt. It feels really good.
Every day brings a chance to start over.
Being a mother is the hardest job on earth. Women everywhere must declare it so.
Doubt means don’t. Don’t move. Don’t answer. Don’t rush forward.
When you don’t know what to do, get still. The answer will come.
“Trouble don’t last always” (A line from a Negro spiritual)
I believe in all of this, except for a caveat on #17. I think being skid row prostitute is the hardest job in the world. And after that, being a person who lives with me. And then maybe motherhood.
More Love’s Laws to come, including #22 – People living in Seattle are cool I guess, but unfortunately they are the worst looking population in the continental United States.
I don’t like grey areas. I’m a person who is only comfortable if I hold a strong opinion on something that goes one way or the other. So I think in binary – 0 or 1 (shit, its painfully obvious now that I once was a programmer), off or on, for or against, night or day, black or white (except in Obama’s case, in which a mix between black and white is incredibly delicious). This isn’t really a trait I’m all that proud of, but hey, it is what it is. Obama rocks my world. McCain? I used to love him when I had to pick between him and any other Republican. But when juxtaposed with Obama? Oh sweet Jesus, are you kidding? (I must take a moment to compose myself – the lust overwhelmed me for a minute there).
So I have some really nagging issues that will not resolve themselves. I just don’t know where I stand and its making me crazy. I know where I stand on everything. Except these incredibly critical, highly thoughtful and earth-shatteringly bold questions. So what better way to formulate a “for sure” opinion by asking The Internet? Okay, so here are the most pressing questions I have for you, wise Internet friends*.
John Mayer writes great fucking songs. “Comfortable”, “Daughters”, “Say”? Awesome. The work of a truly sensitive, sexy, intelligent genius. Okay, but I read Us Weekly like the bible and that guy appears to be a total douche, unable to even fathom the emotional intelligence to write these songs. So my question is: Is John Mayer a douche bag or what?
UPDATED: Polldaddy doesn’t show you guys the “other” answers people put in. So I will. Other answers Love loves: “yes, but he’s so damn hot” and “yes in public; no in private. The guy is a media hound”.
Michael Jackson. MJ. The King of Pop. I didn’t realize until he died and they did those video retrospectives on VH1 how fucking cool he was. I mean, I own almost all his shit, but not until he died did I just freak out about how cool he was. I made my 5 year old and 2 year old sons sit down and watch all his videos with me. I think that accounts for most of their nightmares these days, but I felt it was imperative that they knew who MJ was. I mean, how else will they ever grow to understand their mother? On the other hand,some say this guy a child molester. In my humble opinion, child molesters should be killed upon a guilty verdict being rendered. I’m sorry, but I have compassion for anybody else in this world, but not pedophiles. Ever. Never. Now, MJ was acquitted of that stuff, but so was OJ but everybody knows he did it. Yet, every famous person that ever met the guy swears he was the coolest dude on the entire planet and I kind of hope he was. Now, I’m taking a big risk since Oprah’s episode on MJ airs tomorrow and Oprah may reveal her true thoughts on this subject, which will count for a lot. But I’m going to trump Oprah and ask the Interent. My question is: Was Michael Jackson a pedophile or what?
You may have read my last post about men being sex addicts. All of them. So my question is this: if you marry a professional athlete or rock star, who many women want to fuck on contact and who you are away from very often, do you seriously, honestly believe and expect that your husband will remain faithful after you marry the dude? Is that even realistic?
UPDATED: Other answers Love loves: “Depends on the dude. I doubt Herschel Walker would” and “Don’t give a shit as long as I’m married to a rock star”
I would provide a fourth question, but I have a very strong opinion on whatever other question you may throw my way. Try me – and I’ll give it to you just the way I think it is. It’s just these three that have me totally baffled.
Oh wise Internet, what do you say?
* Nel and Belle’s answers count x5 since they have read all of my posts and know the very essence of my soul.