i’ve received another blogger award. this one is called the end of days award and it’s from this dick who knows how to insult a bitch and crack her up all at the same time — with gusto. it’s pretty awesome.

there are no rules for this award. the only thing i have to do is post a short summation of what i would do if  the mayans were right about 12.21.2012.

i can do this. why the hell not. i don’t have anything else to talk about. oh except maybe this blogher10 conference i attended in nyc this weekend. essentially, it just confirmed for me that i don’t have anything to talk about. i obviously don’t take my blog seriously. fuck, i didn’t even have blogger business cards to pass out.

there are so many bloggers out there who are way more talented.  i don’t even know what i’m doing in the blogosphere.

i don’t have an original bone in my body. i’ve never even coined a word/phrase. i don’t mean like sarah palin (aka shakespeare) who coined “refudiate.”  but actual usable terms like fucktard, crapstorm, cock knuckle or lame sauce.

the homeless people on the street have more words than me. and they’re not even degreed in this shit. and they sure as shit don’t do it for a living where they might stand a chance of having the discipline beaten into them.  and i’ll be a monkey’s uncle if they can’t throw an f bomb way more poignantly.

hell, i can’t even monetize my blog properly. i don’t know how to tell a brilliant story and then tie it to the brand’s needs like one famous blogger (who shall remain unnamed). sure, i figured out how to use google ad sense but that brings in about .000000006 cents per day. however, i think after attending the blogher10 conference i have a blockbuster idea for raking in the ad dollars. just you wait and see! i may reveal it in my next post. if you’re lucky.

i did meet these awesome chicks who can blog like nobody’s business. even though i was my shy and typically socially awkard self especially upon meeting people i adore and admire for the first time, i had a blast partying like rock stars with them.

bugginword and absence of alternatives

a vapid blonde, brilliant sulk, bugginword, for the birds blog, me (who cares)

shy girl wishes she could be a fly girl or spy girl, brilliant sulk, dufmanno

i’m pretty sure “important factoid” is an oxymoron. fuck it, the title stays.

here are 10 important factoids about your punker:

1. i dislike the serial comma. the less punctuation, the better. punctuation just slows everything down. and formalizes shit. i write like i talk and the only time i pause is when i go into an absinthe trance. (although the tilda~ might be good punctuation to represent that.)

2. i used to be a catholic, a bartender and a smoker. not all at once. well i did smoke with my bestie in the cemetary while attending catholic grade school. anyhussy, the only one of the three that i miss is smoking. i just pray for one month’s notice before i die, so i can smoke my motherfucking ass off.

3. i always take the biggest, cheesiest slice of pizza. i have no qualms when it comes to my pizza. i’ll cut a bogarting bitch.

4. i don’t think farts, pirates or dane cook are funny. chances are you do but you should know that shit is not universal. and i won’t fake laugh or crack a crooked smile for it either.

5. i stockpile xanax just in case it all becomes too unbearable.  if my daughter dies or i get a horrible disease, i don’t want to live through it. i NEED control in this. sorry for the heavy, but that’s the way my brain works. i consider it forward-thinking and good planning.  also, i think i’m pretty clever outsmarting my doc to write me multiple scrips (i tell him they’re for the pms rage and no doc argues with that) and i get my insurance company to pay for them. you’re welcome.

6. i’m not a lesbian but i like to flirt with girls. especially foxy girls who give good blog like a vapid blonde, buggin word and wicked shawn.

7. i always liked yoko ono. even when everyone else blamed her for breaking up the beatles. not that i was alive then. okay maybe i was but i’m sure it was only for minutes. she makes good art. for realz. and this is one of my favorite songs that john lennon wrote about her.

Oh Yoko!

8. speaking of music, this is my favorite love song of all time.

This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)

9. i may or may not have tried heroin. but i if i had, i would have snorted it because it would have been the 80s and needles–aids… no thanks.  and if i had tried it i would have really liked the euphoria and heroin-sex but not the vomiting all night.

10. i think the jolly rancher should sell bags of the watermelon flavor 0nly.  i don’t care for the grape, cherry or blue rasberry ones. and i hate the sour apple ones. this is a huge miss on the jolly rancher’s part.

what’s an important factoid i should know about you?

my good friend kyle told me that he wanted to quit drinking coffee and start drinking tea. he said he was reading outside magazine and that tea is loaded with antioxidants, helps maintain good prostate health, and trims the waistline. fuck that noise. eat more nuts and berries, go rogue every now and again, and ride your damn cannondale. tea is for pussies.   

oh sure guys in india, japan, and the UK slam down tea like real boys slam down cold ones during pre-game.  but do you really wanna model yourself after this guy:   

Prince of Pussies, I mean Wales

tea causes leprechaun-like ear growth. and he’s obviously a cross-dresser. not that there’s anything wrong with that. but he chose this bow-wow with eroded tea teeth syndrome (ETTS):   

do we see an adam's apple here?

over this beautiful fairy-tale princess with pearly whites:   

all girl!

and anyway, i’m talking about red-blooded american males here.  could you imagine the marlboro man sitting around the campfire with his other cowboy buds drinking a pot of fine white peony tea? (i had to look up the name of a good tea here.)  exactly, because these dudes wear spurs not kilts.   

and do you think joe dimaggio, mr coffee himself, would have ever hawked a tea-pot? no, because he was a manly man yankee baseball superstar and husband of marilyn monroe.   

but, i could see this bitch peddling tea petals:   

a-rod the tea petal peddler

i’m not even gonna start talking about the hackneyed extended pinky grip or the fruity shit that is served with tea:   

accompaniment of crustless sandwiches, crumpets, scones, and other "sweet" treats

but if you quit drinking coffee, and start drinking tea, then i think you should give up the burger, too. that’s just how it works. it’s a slippery slope my friend.   

i’m a little tea-pot short and stout. here is my handle, where is my cock?