Monday, June 23, 2008
First of all, I am not Heather B. Armstrong, and this is not her web site. If you are a fan of the GREATEST BLOG EVER WRITTEN BY A REFORMED MORMON ON PROSAC and have stumbled across my musings through the ad placed on www.dooce.com, I want to say "Welcome" and apologize for all this garish purple... and the complete lack of flicker photos... and the fact that I am a Cat Person. I am to Heather B. Armstrong what Britney Spears is to Audrey Hepburn.
Then I want to tell you to immediately LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS. Because under pressure I am about as funny as an Avocado. (See? Heather would have used something like Mango. Or CROUTON.) Frankly, I suggest to get Full Enjoyment of this blog that you do a shot EVERY TIME I TYPE IN CAPITALS.
And then, for gosh sakes, please COMMENT. Because Dooce readers are fearless about their responses, while MUD readers--such as my fellow PTA Executive Board Members-- traditionally just send me discreet private Emails that say things like "May I Respectfully Suggest that you Refrain from telling the Board of Education to SUCK IT."
Heather & I share a few similarities. We are both blonde--although I have to admit I question sometimes if her carpet matches her drapes. We have both had skin cancers removed. We both have big, dark haired lumbering husbands that fix things for us. (Jon fixes Heather's computer issues. Sexyhusbandomine fixes cocktails.)
But mostly we are a study in contrasts. She lives in a beautiful house where there are mountains and they complain about the cold all the time. I live in New York in a loft apartment that looks like someone smoked crack before hitting Ikea. Her child was born with a few special needs. I screwed mine up all by myself. She faithfully records each developmental milestone and writes beautiful tributes to her daughter every month. I may ocassionally blog about Complicatedboy or Thebananna but most of the time I am yelling at them to LOWER THE VOLUME ON THOSE G-DAMN BACKYARDIGANS FOR CRIPES SAKE MAMAS GOT A BLOG TO WRITE.
I once sent Heather B. Armstrong a mug I made. One side said DOOCE JUICE and the other said I AM HEATHER B. ARMSTRONG AND THIS IS MY MUG. Then I made myself a mug that said STOP BEING ALL CREEPY STALKERISH.
Anyway, if you found your way to me through her--again--WELCOME. If you are lucky, you can follow the breadcrumbs back.