(or why I hate vlogging)

Video blogging (or vlogging as it has become known) is supposed to be the next big thing in blogging. I am here to beg you, on my knees, to stop. Please just stop.

Writing and spoken word are two incredibly different animals, and if there are very few people who can write well, there a damn site fewer who can do spoken word well.

This is what all the vlogs I have seen consist of;

Blogger in front of low quality camera (phone or webcam) speaking out a blog post that would have normally been written. Between the ‘ums’ and ‘sos’ is a piece, so poorly executed that most of the women doing it would not have even hit the publish button on that post, were it written. They have no script, no quality video, no reason to sit in front of a camera and talk except that it takes the place of actually having to write.

They aren’t amusing, they aren’t little peeks inside your life, their are cringe-worthy fests of crap. You are bloggers, writers – not a television personality. It isn’t as great as you think it is.

There are some great ways to do vlogs,; write a script, practice, dress-up, use camera appropriate make-up, do more than one take, edit the video, etc. etc. But no one is doing that, and, in the end, you all look lazy.

Thinking about doing a vlog? Please, in the name of all that is holy, write your words.

Curry. I lovez it. I just do. And I am blessed with children that love to try different things, so when I recommend sushi or Indian for dinner, they readily agree. We also love Wegman’s, so on nights I don’t want to cook, we go get dinner from Wegman’s. (If you don’t know what Wegman’s is, it is a grocery store. In fact, it is the best grocery store ever, and their food is delicious. Don’t hate.)

Imagine my delight when I found out Wegman’s had Indian food. I nearly wept with joy. I think I ate curry at least once week until…well, I am still doing it.

One day I go there, trot up to the Indian food section and what do they have?

Beef Curry.

Beef. Really, y’all?

Let’s just go ahead and ruin Indian food, insult their culture and religion, and seem ignorant at the same time.

Indians do not eat beef, cows are sacred to them. Therefore, you do not make Beef Curry,

End of story. No ‘but I like beef’ or ‘it’s not my culutre’ or ‘I once had an Indian friend and she didn’t mind’.

Just. NO.

As you may know, I have tumblr where I post non-original content. I recently ‘reblogged’ this item. It ended up being the most popular post on that little blog. I thought it needed a wider audience. There is a watermark at the bottom to tell you who created it.

I am the fat chick

Which reminds me of this fantastic image from Pinterest. (please disregard the misspelling of lose, it irked me too)

Pinterest Rage

Cat food. You may not know this, but apparently this stuff is crack to cats and dogs. And I am not talking about the dry crunchy stuff, no, no, no this is what is called GUSHY FOOD.

Now, I love my pets. Well, 3/4 of them anyway. (WHAT?! One of them keeps peeing on the carpet, judgy mcjudgerson! He needs to go to cat heaven.) Like I was saying- love my pets, but none of them rate Gushy food. My daughter disagrees. She loves buying the wet food for the cats. And they love her for being a sucker.

And the dog? Well, he just wants a piece of action.

Our first mistake was to buy the food in the little packets. Oreo would get the empties out of the trash and gnaw them trying to get a taste. Then he moved up to getting the full ones and gnawing on those. Mmmm, tin foil flavored cat food.

Whatever. I got your number dog.

Next up we bought the cans. Remember how I complained about stepping on Legos? Yeah, those are nothing compared to cat food cans. Oreo slinks downstairs (in the middle of the night), gets a can and carries it around in his mouth. He doesn’t make a mess. He can’t chew the can open. But he carries that unopened can in his mouth as if to say, ‘Bitch, I am two opposable thumbs away from DINNER TIME.) So now instead of Legos all around the house, I have cat food cans from the top floor to the basement.

Next up, cat food cans full of Legos.

Man, I really hate to bust this out on y’all. And I know it is going to generate a whole bunch of hate. But when you’re wrong,you’re wrong. And, in this case, you are definitely wrong. Why? Because I say so. And history. History says so, so you can just shut up.

Here is how it starts – Southern Living is having an online poll called “Vote for South’s Tastiest Town‘ and on the list they include such Southern towns as New Orleans, Raleigh and Charleston. All sorts of no-brainer in terms of Southern towns. Here is where it gets good- they included Baltimore.

Well, just back it up there a gosh-darn minute. Baltimore? Yep. Baltimore. Whether you like or not, Maryland is a southern state. And, OF COURSE, people do not like it.

Here are some of the comments;

How is Baltimore a SOUTHERN town?

it’s not da south, it shouldn’t be on the list… period.

It’s the Mid-Atlantic, but since people seem to want either North or South, it’s the South – South of the Mason-Dixon line which is the line separating North-South.

They’re still stuck on the Mason-Dixon Line.

Maryland is a border state, not a Southern state.

Baltimore? Can we stick to Cities that are in the Real Southern part of the states and not southern North America. That line was drawn when colonial america thought anything below South Carolina was an undeveloped foreign country. Lets be real. Baltimore is as northern as NYC and Wash. D.C….

There are several good points here. Baltimore is more culturally Mid-Atlantic than southern as evidenced by our significant lack of trailer parks. HOWEVER, history is on Maryland’s side here. Here is my disclaimer: I don’t give a rat’s ass whether Maryland is Northern or Southern, and no one asked me. But if your whole argument is “It isn’t Southern because it’s not Southern enough for me.” Well, then, allow me to set you straight.

Maryland is below the Mason-Dixon line. This makes it a Southern state. End of argument. No one cares if culturally it is like DC or NY, historically and geographically, Maryland is part of the South. Don’t like it? Don’t care. Think we aren’t Southern enough? I am totally OK with this. You keep all of your ‘Southern’ traits the hell away from me. Remember, I am from Kentucky, I have had enough ‘South’ to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.

Now it is time for your boring history lesson, you can leave now if you don’t want to whole “Why the Captial is in DC.” lecture.

The basic reason our nation’s capital ended up where it is was that key Southern leaders WANTED it that way.The story is often told of how the change took place, supposedly as a result of a compromise made at a dinner party involving Madison (proponent of the Southern view and an important leader of the Jeffersonians [later the 'Republican Party'] in the House) and Alexander Hamilton, a Northerner (of New York), Federalist and Washington’s Secretary of the Treasury. Supposedly, Hamilton offered Northern support for the Potomac capital in exchange for help (or at least not blocking) his financing plans in Congress (esp. the federal assumption of the war debts of all the states, along with the First National Bank).

In fact, it is not certain the decision took place quite that way..though it makes a nice story!

A key factor that should not be overlooked was George Washington’s own preferences. His personal popularity in both sections added great weight to his desire that the capital be located on the Potomac, near his home at Mount Vernon. In fact, the Residence Act left it to the President to chose the specific location.

Note also that the Residence Act provided for Philadelphia as the temporary capital for 10 years, while arrangements were made for building the District of Columbia (named “Washington” in 1791, though its namesake avoided using that name). It is claimed that this piece helped secure passage, in part because some Northerners (esp. from Pennsylvania) believed the Potomac plan would ultimately fail and Pennsylvania would end up hosting the capital permanently.

[source] (Yes, this source is from Yahoo answers, but the person who provided the answer also provides reference material for checking facts in other places

Legos. I have a love/ hate relationship with legos. I think the pluses should be obvious; encourages creativity, fine motor skills, building skills, etc.

But the HATE? Oh, I have Lego hate.

First, I have been stepping on Legos for a decade now. I swear I am going to make flip-flops made of the from the Lego brick material, so that as I walk around I just add more height. I swear they hide in the carpet. I vacuum those little bitches up. Too bad, so sad.

But that isn’t the worst. No the worst is birthday and Christmas. My son only wants two things: Legos and Video games. Fair enough. So my husband decided to get Trace two BIG Lego sets for Christmas. And OBVIOUSLY he can’t put them together at his house, because they will break in transit.

OF COURSE THEY WILL.

So that means it is up to me to put those things together.

My son is interested in helping for the first hour or two, but by hour five hunched over looking for the smallest little piece known to man he has long wandered off.

There I am, on floor, holding some huge Halo flying creation, looking for a piece that I know he won’t even miss. It is then when I change my philosophy. My mantra goes from ‘follow ever direction down to the last detail’ to ‘close enough’.

I would love to tell you that I am on time for everything, that I am punctual. I am not. Not even close. But, you see, I never knew this. I lived with a military husband who moved earth and mountains to make sure we were never late to anything. I always prided myself on how on time I was to everything. When we lived in Germany, our godparents were late to the Christening of Cheyenne, and I thought “Well, that will never happen to me.”

Famous last words, right?

Fast forward to today. I am happily divorced and late. To EVERYTHING.

I don’t mean to be late. I try to be on time, but times move different for me in some weird way and then there is the INTERNET! Reddit isn’t going to read itself, yo. One more click then I will get in the shower!

And if I am late that means that my kids are late. This is one area where I really fall down in parenting. I balance it with the knowledge that my kids have never watched any of MTV’s inane programming. I still come out ahead, I think.

Combine my new found sloth-ness with my (nearly) teenage daughter’s unwillingness to leave her bed for any reason and you have a recipe for school morning disaster.

Me: I’M LEAVING!!!

Chey: I’M ALMOST READY!!

ME: HOW LONG, DAMMIT?!

Chey: FIVE MINUTES!!

[Ten minutes later]

Me: I’M WALKING OUT THE DOOR!

Chey: NO YOU’RE NOT!

Me: WATCH ME!

Chey: I DON”T HAVE SOCKS!!

And on and on and on.

Cheyenne has been late 35 times this year. Let that sink in. THREE FIVE. 35. 3 x 10 + 5.

Finally, the school has had enough. Any more tardies and she gets Saturday detention.

Which we will be late to, no doubt.