Monday, May 12, 2008
Muffins and I wonder if they let you blog in prison?
I am being very very foolhardy today. I read in Blog Shmog by Roberty Bly(the marketer, not the author of Iron John) and have learned from other sources that one should put up a picture of oneself. It went on to say that the reader wants to see who they are reading. In my case, putting up a picture, can lead to incarceration for my natural life. But, this early hour (and the Special K I just ate,) is fueling me with fearlessness. The picture though does not show my mouth and i feel safe that I won't be recognized. My mouth is twisted in the way serial killers mouths should be twisted, btw. You can't hear anything from a picture but one of the thousand words that would describe the noises I was making as that pic was shot, was "blood curdling." That is only two words. i don't remember the other 998 words that would fit how I felt during the taking of that photograph.
I am also am 20 pounds lighter than then, and unphotogenic so make of that what you will. The pic of my mother is ancient and she has feebled up quite a bit since the one I will post on this post, and she doesn't get out much. so again the risks are unessecary but possibly non existent. I want to have 120 readers by days end, and so these means may indeed justify that end. We'll see. Or more likely, I'll see. My profile views are my concern alone until the advertising banners and linkmeplease beggars show up. That day is nigh, but when exactly nigh is still nebulous.
For the record: I have never used a theasaurus nor a dictionary in the crafting of my blog. I do use many 10 dollar words(whateva!) but that is because that is who abbey is. And Abbey is aware that she used abbey in the third person but abbey is not perfect. Actually Abbey is perfect and knows that saying I'm not perfect to others is a part of that perfection. Abbey knows what people need to hear.
The muffin mix I'm using for my newest venture turned out to be clumpy and so I'll be running ragged all day trying to find the good stuff. Readers of my blog will know that I am opening a muffin cafe with my friends maggie, and amy. We figured with names like abbey, maggie, and amy, the customer would feel the muffins were coming from a cozy and cute place. News Alert: Libby just called and she wants to take part. Excellent. She says that Marcia wants in too. I told her in so many words that Marcia's name is all wrong and Marcia shouldn't have spare time now that her husband has Parkinsons. I can be a bitch, that's for sure. Looking over this paragraph, i realized that I'm not going to break my head with naming the place just yet. I was thinking muffin hideaway. Maggie wants to call it ,what a narcissistic little borderline would want to call it-- Maggies muffins. Amy wants to call it Muffin. There is a new trend in restaurant and store naming of just using one word so I'm actually impressed that someone as self centered as amy would notice that. tell me what Ya'll think?
Back to Muffins and me. Amy plans on making mango muffins, maggie is making muffins with mochi, and I'm making pomegranate muffins. I don't yet know what sort of muffin Libby will be making. Libby's a big Pinkberry Fan so I'm sure it will be that other esoteric fruit that Pinkberry puts on their frozen yogurt and whose name eludes me at this senior moment. LOL. Soon, I'll need a depends undergarment. I heard that joke at the Comedy Store and how I laughed. Oh, no. Sorry, it wasn't depends undergarment. It was just plain, "Depends."
Which brings me back to comedy and the comedy scene and more of a niche blog entry and the hope of a blog that really soars into the stratosphere. But, I have so many things to do today it's practically a laundry list. I've never made a laundry list. Is there such a thing? Language is weird. which reminds me of an essay I wrote about fashion called, "Fashion Makes me Bananas."
I can hear some Oprah deifying frau saying to me, "Girlfriend, you are all over the place." I can hear the claps and laughter of the presoaked and brainwashed swine in her audience. Just kidding, Girl. I love Oprah. What soccer mom can afford not to?
And with that bringback laundry presoaked brainwash wordsmithery, I should leave. And I will after I tell you that getting the pits out of each pomegranate seed is turning into a disaster. later tater.
at May 12, 2008
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