"I was with it once! Then, they changed what 'it' was. Now 'what it is' is scary and strange! It will happen to you..."
If you watch The Simpsons, you probably recognize that quote from Grampa Simpson. It's a perfect sum of my latest experiences as I become A Blogger, and, more terrifyingly, a twit. I mean, a Tweeter. My husband is an enabler! I married an IT engineer, and he just really thinks it best that back away from the hardware as I am to computers what Michael Vick is to veterinarians.
It's so sad to watch me fumble with technology that others my age have zero issues with. I mean, the cast of Jersey Shore can bip around the internet with adroitness, for the love of Mike. Did you notice I managed to get my Twitter feed to appear to the side, there? A major accomplishment for someone just learning Power Point and how to download j-pegs that left me smug for a whole afternoon.
And did you know there's a whole set of etiquette to learn with each of these social media thingies that no one will let me get by without conquering? Who wrote these rules? Friending, unfriending...I'll tell you about that when I'm finally forced onto Facebook. But I'm totally intimidated by learning this navigation of following, unfollowing, how to post pictures and videos...and I'm supposed to, for some reason, really want tens of thousands of followers. So I'll thank you later when I am more educated.
I take personal risk with this post! My intellect is already questioned due to my abnormal obsession with The Young and the Restless (as a therapist, I have a theory about why I adopted friends that are two dimensional, but I digress). I consider this post a bit of a personal confession, dear reader, because I have a feeling it will hold me accountable to joining this century. Making public my shame over my Techno Fear will force me to adapt, I hope. Kinda like those Biggest Loser candidates that they make take off their shirt in front of high school stadiums full of people they know: accountability!
So I invite you to bear witness to my inartful clumping about townsquarebuzz.com, mckinneymommadrama.blogspot.com, and Twitter at @eliskacounce. I'm (sometimes quite unintentionally) hilarious when I'm not annoying the poo out of you. You'll either be kind enough to help me or your hate mail will shame me into learning. A win win!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Holiday Lessons Learned, or: Why You Suck as a Houseguest
Happy New Year's, revelers! I must say my yuletide, despite an alarming amount of shopping, cooking, and cleaning, was fun and refreshing. I hope yours found you similarly. However, now that the yule log is smoldering out, they're stretching the BCS Bowl season into March, and we're at least three days into the shame of broken resolutions, I think two good lessons have emerged that I would like to highlight for the betterment of you, dear reader.
Speaking of New Year's Resolutions, I've got one: let's all work on this apostrophe as a plural, shall we? You are not the Smith's. You are The Smiths. Or the beautifully uncomplicated The Smith Family. It begs the question: Merry Christmas from The Smith's? The Smith's what? The Smith's house elf? And just who is this The Smith person who refers to himself in the third person? My teeth are itching.
But it's been awhile since I wielded my red pen as an English teacher. No, today, dear reader, is your quick list of reasons why you are a lousy houseguest. Just because I am invested in your wellness, really. It's like telling you about the spinach in your teeth. I yell because I care. You just might suck as a houseguest if:
You show up ill, physically or otherwise. If you have something you wouldn't wish on your host, you might suggest alternate housing, especially if your host has small children and you have explosive vomiting/diarrhea. And could you keep your mood pleasant? I know some trips can be hellish, but when you're scowling and slapping your children as soon as you arrive, they're likely to want to ask you to just get back in the car.
You think childcare comes with the room. Hey, buddy, I've got three small kids of my own. Come follow yours around, feed them, and keep them from destroying property.
It never occurs to you to offer to help in the kitchen. Male, female, it's just the decent thing to do. "Hey, you're doing a lot. Can I help some way?" Practice it. Don't let someone toil alone in the kitchen while the party whoops it up in another room. It has a direct correlation to seething. And related:
You fail to show enjoyment and gratitude. You have had guests. You know the truth: you, though loved, are expensive and disruptive. Compliment the house, the food, the trouble everyone's gone to, the fellowship, the fun. McKinney Momma says: you don't have to have money to never come empty-handed to a friend's.
You don't leave it as you found it. No one expects you scrub the guest bathroom before departure, but would it kill you to make the bed, throw out your trash, and walk your dishes to the kitchen?
Aren't you glad you have me to tell you, "You have just a little something...right there..." when you need it most? Again, you're welcome. You'll be so glad when people talk less smack behind your back. Related note: if you've been my guest recently, I'm sure I'm not talking it about you!
Speaking of New Year's Resolutions, I've got one: let's all work on this apostrophe as a plural, shall we? You are not the Smith's. You are The Smiths. Or the beautifully uncomplicated The Smith Family. It begs the question: Merry Christmas from The Smith's? The Smith's what? The Smith's house elf? And just who is this The Smith person who refers to himself in the third person? My teeth are itching.
But it's been awhile since I wielded my red pen as an English teacher. No, today, dear reader, is your quick list of reasons why you are a lousy houseguest. Just because I am invested in your wellness, really. It's like telling you about the spinach in your teeth. I yell because I care. You just might suck as a houseguest if:
You show up ill, physically or otherwise. If you have something you wouldn't wish on your host, you might suggest alternate housing, especially if your host has small children and you have explosive vomiting/diarrhea. And could you keep your mood pleasant? I know some trips can be hellish, but when you're scowling and slapping your children as soon as you arrive, they're likely to want to ask you to just get back in the car.
You think childcare comes with the room. Hey, buddy, I've got three small kids of my own. Come follow yours around, feed them, and keep them from destroying property.
It never occurs to you to offer to help in the kitchen. Male, female, it's just the decent thing to do. "Hey, you're doing a lot. Can I help some way?" Practice it. Don't let someone toil alone in the kitchen while the party whoops it up in another room. It has a direct correlation to seething. And related:
You fail to show enjoyment and gratitude. You have had guests. You know the truth: you, though loved, are expensive and disruptive. Compliment the house, the food, the trouble everyone's gone to, the fellowship, the fun. McKinney Momma says: you don't have to have money to never come empty-handed to a friend's.
You don't leave it as you found it. No one expects you scrub the guest bathroom before departure, but would it kill you to make the bed, throw out your trash, and walk your dishes to the kitchen?
Aren't you glad you have me to tell you, "You have just a little something...right there..." when you need it most? Again, you're welcome. You'll be so glad when people talk less smack behind your back. Related note: if you've been my guest recently, I'm sure I'm not talking it about you!
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