Archive for the SuperFriends Category
I never saw it coming. In fact, I ridiculed my brother when he became overly infatuated with Facebook. What’s the big deal, I wondered? I fell in love with your sweet faces so long ago, you became my reason for being on the internet. And plus, I didn’t see the need to go digging up the carcasses of friendships past.
It’s funny how persistent the internet is in providing a medium of limitless interpretation. I can not believe the long lost cherished relationships I have rekindled thanks to Facebook. It has been a real joy to reconnect and remember things that haven’t crossed my mind since grade school. A veritable smorgasbord of love with a renewing feeling, a fountain of youth.
But like youth, it’s fleeting. I am constantly reminded why I prefer an anonymous voice via this hallowed website, as opposed to trafficking in my past. Every once in a rare while, as I’m wandering down memory lane, I find myself at abandoned crossroads, dead ends. Things that stopped though somewhere I let go of the whys. Mostly, my nature demands it: I despise having public property in purgatorial places.
I am Christian, and therefore by definition a fuct up sinner. I have done some wrongs in my life, but I’m not sure when we were drooling about our rocket powered futures back in grade school that it ever occurred to us we could be so grounded by our past. It’s definitely a new dimension in social interaction, but is it helpful, necessary or truly restorative in any way? That’s a subjective matter, I guess, which I mean only to relate back to the idea of the persisent interpretive powers of the internet.
All this to say, I have been distracted lately. But as the old adage reminds us, absence makes the heart grow fonder. You have been on my mind, and I’m striving to make you a more central priority in the near future. Thanks for checking back, I adore you.
I guess it was probably a month ago now, this poor neglected blog. I don’t know what to say.
The news was on, blaring in the living room, enough to be heard in the far reaches of the house. The announcer said something like, “This bailout is costing each and every American $20,000.”
The Scientist, wandering through the kitchen looks up at me in utter despair and asks, “Twenty thousand dollars? Do I have to pay that?”
Well? What do you think I said? I told him there was that and a whole lot more. The boy is seven, people! Can we carve him out just a little more time before we inflict him with colon cancer-causing stress? It is utterly ridiculous.
While we are on the subject, shame on you, Viagra nation! You are disgusting. Your parents would be appalled at your lack of sensibility. I am up to my neck in excuses, trying to rationalize horny grandma/grandpa behavior to my kids. They stop at every ad and question, what does it do? Have some freaking conscience, folks. Please. See the danger, stop the madness. In a world where the cephalopods have us greatly outnumbered already, we who can still rationalize must do so and in all seriousness, Godspeed.
Listen to me, please. My granddad was a great man and rancher (not a nasty crooning horndog.) He understood well that you reap what you sow. We all do. I want to sow great things for the future. I want to reacquaint you with a forgotten concept called resolution.
And not the sort of temporary feel good resolutions we make and break year after year, but a thorough renewing of our spirits with acceptance of the wear. We can’t go back, but we can resolve to hold some virtues more dear in the great unknown ahead. Those of integrity, freedom and entreprenurial spirit could easily unhinge our current predicament and restore confidence in what we all know to be the absolute undeniable truth: there’s no place like home.
Nothing is impossible! I wish you great things in the year to come. If you’re going to catch the winning shot, you had better get your hands up. And hastily please, bring your genius. I want to get out of this hole this year and not pass on a culture of entitlement to another generation of young innocent children. Viagra nation, stop your impotent gyrating and please, concentrate on productivity.
Finally, what beats anticipation for good old-fashioned optimistic exhiliration? My hopes for you are that the wait will be as exciting as reaching your destination. Good luck on your individual quest, mighty blown-eyeds.
I’m sorry my blog makes people sick, but in this way it kind of mirrors my life. I do that to people. I really hate the stigma of a virus, though. It’s the scarlet A of our day, I’m branded. SUPERGURL GIVES CREATURE COOTIES THAT WILL KILL YOUR WILL TO LIVE in cyberspace. Or something like that.
Rest assured, the experts are up all hours of the night toiling towards an answer. Wait. Strike that. The experts are actually all getting ready for a pilgrimage to the homeland this weekend. These gatherings around the family tree are known to turn into a drunken house afire with no notice at all. So, there’s actually a relatively fair chance that the ole blog will continue to mess with folks through the weekend. Possibly, even worsening once they conspire around the campfire. I am sorry, really, I am.
Yes, I’ve heard you. And I had every intention of putting up a post for the record books. A real wow piece. I did. But it turns out, everyone thinks I’m giving them the viral clap.
Which is ok. Afterall, I was partially wanting to showcase my Future Artist Trading Cards. The Architect’s latest creations, an assignment from school. I’m struck by how LOL cat this one is. It says, “I hungry,” with a space shuttle in it’s mouth. Genius, isn’t it?
But back to the fungus among us: SuperGurl can’t protect you if you won’t protect yourself. 1) Convert and become snobbish about using only Firefox (it’s less headaches, folks) for browsing. 2) Keep your anti-virus software paid for and up to date. I don’t know much that sucks more than hard drive lossage for seriously bad headaches…so please, keep your stuff squared away at the very least.
And I guess I should state the obvious, as well. If you think I want to sneak away to my cozy always seventy degrees, always shady and inviting webberworld only to hear that I shut you down completely, you are out of your mind. No, my pretties. Have I taught you nothing? Tell me in the words I long to hear. Say it like you mean it. But most importantly, lie to me. Pretend you love it, that’s what I like.
I did want to amaze you with my latest exploits, but i’m at a loss for time. I must get on with the mundane. I’m off to San Antone to free my mower and then I’m going to bring her home and make her hum once again for me.
You are here, and so you are loved. Have a wonderfully free non-crashtacular Saturday.