dailydiatribes

I am fond of saying what is on my mind, so here goes:  enough is enough people!!  How on earth have I gone from being a happy, suburban soccer mom of three, to being your hobby??  I have ceased to be an individual and I am slowly, inexorably, being consumed by my blog, fed it to it bit by bit by my readers.  Are you willing to continue sacrificing me to the blog until I exist no more and can think only in paragraph form, with lots of exclamation marks and ellipses???

If I go one day without writing something, someone yells at me, as if their life's happiness depends upon reading about my latest trip to Wal-Mart. Someone stop the madness!!  Pick up a Time magazine and see what the politicians are doing!  Pick up a People magazine and see how Angelina is tumbling from grace (and boy her stock is falling fast!).  There is a great big world out there and you have got to break free of my diatribes and see it for yourselves!

You must give me breathing room, so that I can actually have experiences to blog about.  Sometimes I do leave the computer for a few minutes, to use the bathroom and eat lunch and remove bird carcasses from underneath the window.  I am starting to feel pressured, like I have to report every burp, fart and toenail clipping to the world.  I feel like Truman!!  Why are you all looking at me??? Stop, please stop, or the voices will make me hurt you!!

I want each one of you to examine how you are spending your free time and see if you think it might be time to make a change.  Perhaps you could take up origami, or curling or learn how to french braid your nose hairs.  I am sure there are more worthwhile ways to pass an hour than to hang out on this blog, waiting for me to say something meaningful. 

Why are you all waiting for me to tell you about how I thought I was getting carjacked on Monday night while I was leaving Anna's dance studio?  I had dropped her off and Margie and I were heading to Starbucks to get some coffee and when I stopped at the traffic light someone came up and tapped on Margie's window.  We both freaked out and being the quick thinker I am, I rolled down the window to see what the lady wanted.  She was holding something in her hand (a machete?  a hacksaw?) and she said "I know you're going to think I'm crazy, but these were on your bumper." 

In her hand she clutched, not an instrument of torture, but Josh's brand new glasses we had just picked up that very morning!!  I thanked her gratefully and rolled up the window, glad to be alive and in possession of Josh's new glasses.  I promptly called him and the idiot actually denied it, saying "I'm wearing my glasses."  Stupid, stupid boy, they were the old ones, the ones so bent out of shape and scratched that they had been condemned by the American Association of Optometrists as being hazardous to his health.  Alas, Abby's glasses had also been on the bumper and they have not surfaced. 

It's bad enough I thought I was being carjacked, but why do you want to know??  Why do you care that I cleaned out Abby's closet today and found an entire family of pygmy marmosets living at the bottom, beneath the Barbie shoes?  Or, more seriously, that while I was hanging up her expensive Abercrombie shirts, I was led to wonder why the shirts these days have such abnormally long sleeves?  I guess all those hormones in the milk are causing children's arms to grow longer, because every single shirt I've seen has sleeves that hang an addtional three feet past the tips of their fingers.

The point is I must insist you all find a hobby and devote ten minutes a day to knitting cuff links for children in orphanages.  Or at least do a crossword puzzle occasionally so I can go to the bathroom and not feel guilty!!