I blame the allergies

I'm a blog stalker. It's okay, I can admit it. There's no shame in my game, but I do stalk blogs of people that might know OF me, but don't KNOW me.

Here's the thing about blogs: They say whatever the writer wants em to say (WOW. That little revelation just blew your socks off, didn't it?) What I mean is, though, that if someone wanted their life to seem all cotton candy and sunflowers, they could easily make it out to be like that. So when I read the blogs of those I don't know too well, eh... it can sting sometimes. Why? Cause nothing makes me feel worse than one of those "OMG you are my sweet precious baby" blogs. (No offense to any of my friends that write them, I think it's awesome. I'm honestly jealous that I just don't have it in me to say that kind of stuff.)

"Dear.... you are such a PRECIOUS addition to our family... We are so BLESSED to have you... I just can't IMAGINE my life without you..."

*gag*

If I were to write about CJ, it'd go something like this:

So...:

Thanks for not being a hellion or a pain in the ass.

Thanks for using good manners.

Thank GOD you're smart and can write your full name already. God knows you got enough going against you already without adding "stupid" to the list.

I'm glad your glasses make you cuter and aren't setting you up to be called "Four eyes" one day.

You can get over the fact that I won't give you candy and other crap. I don't have any cavities and I refuse to let you have cavities either. I also refuse to let you get fat. Eat healthy and deal with it.

I'm really glad you don't want any siblings... cause you ain't gettin' none. After the hell you put me through when I was pregnant, I figured it was a sign I should stop at one. Plus, I refuse to spend all that money on another kid. Besides, you deserve to have my full attention and resources. I can't do that if you have a sibling. YOU'RE WELCOME. (I would like to note, however, for the record, that I nursed you for 2 years. You never got a DROP of formula. Again, YOU'RE WELCOME.)

So... yeah. I think I'll keep you.

Love, Mama

For real, y'all. I can't DEAL with all that sugar. Some of the stuff I read would give Paula Deen's diabetes, diabetes! The thing is, the people that I know personally who write it are sincere... I guess I'm just not wired to think that way.

Same with those husband posts. Same sweetness, rebagged and relabeled for the hubster. "You know me so well... you were made for me... I can't imagine life without you... you are my heart..."

* double gag*

I find it VERY hard to believe that anything with a tallywacker is THAT perfect. They leave their dirty clothes on the floor, the pee on the toilet seat (and ONLY on the toilet seat, if you're lucky) they don't know how to clean right... They wanna spend money on stupid stuff like motorcycles. Whatever y'all are smokin' that makes your man seem infallible, please, pass the blunt to the Cracker on the left.

If I were to write one to Ed, it'd go a little like this:

Dear Ed:

I'm glad you aren't as much of a douchecanoe as you used to be. A little douchiness is healthy, but you took it to a whole other level for awhile there.

I'm glad you're good at math and mechanics. Between my reading/writing skills and your math skills our kid has a fighting chance.

Speaking of mechanics, thanks for being one. You know, since I can't even change a tire and all.

I'll be glad when we can get the pool cleaned out. It's naaaasty. And it's already so hot outside, that water needs to warm up and be swimmable soon.

We've been together for 12 years in some way, shape or form. We've been through a lot. We haven't killed each other. I think we deserve a t-shirt or something. Yay, us!

Love, Mandy

Do I suck for being so... I don't know what I am. I can't say "real" cause, like I said, I know most of the people that write the sugar blogs aren't being FAKE. I guess it'd just be fake if *I* wrote that stuff.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I just wish I could "conform" to all the sweetness without everyone calling me out. (Y'all know you would. The second I wrote "My dearest daughter..." someone would be callin "Shenanigans" on my behind!)

It doesn't help I feel miserable. Sugar when I don't feel good never helps. When I feel like crap, treat me as you would a wounded animal: carefully approach me in a non-threatening posture, put a mirror under my nose to make sure I'm breathing, toss some food and water at me- maybe a pain killer or two- and then back away slowly.

I am SUCH a mess.

I need, like, Candy-Land Boot Camp or something.