oh hai thar blog. how YOU doin?
and… we’re… LIVE. (((wild applause and cheering)))
as you all know, i have been dealing with a bit of a hack issue for the last few weeks. long story short, my former domain host hacked away at my site like one does when chipping away at an ice sculpture, only instead of creating a masterpiece, they effed up not only my site, but my entire database thereby causing me much angst, wondering if the last 3 years of my life that i’ve shared with the interwebz was gone.
the heroine (not the kind you shoot up) in all of this is my new webmaster, @PrincessJenn of Princess Prose and co-creator of BlogHerAtHome.com with me. not only is jenn entirely responsible for recovering ALL three years of content that exist on my blog, she is also the fantastically talented designer of my new home… one that i intend on keeping for a very long time.
she can’t get rid of me no matter how hard she tries. jenn has the brains and the boobs beauty behind the design, and if you’re in the market for something spectacular, i suggest you scope out her portfolio, designs by princess jenn.
all joking aside, there are no adequate words to fully describe the gratitude i have for jenn and the work she has done. you writers/bloggers understand… when you have this space where you freely express yourself and share yourself with others, you love it. it’s your haven. and to have been hacked so ferociously and consistently for weeks on end is so incredibly invasive. i know i’m not the only blogger who has endured the wrath of a hacker recently, but i do know how it made me feel, and it leaves me now with so much gratitude for a friend i can trust to share my space with, knowing she has it protected to the best of her ability.
so THANK YOU jenn… for so much. me lurves ya long times.
now that that’s out of the way… *tear sniff sniff* take a gander around. somethings have stayed the same and others have changed. i have *GASP* dropped what was my “bottle of the week,” for a couple of reasons. a lot of other bloggers have started doing similar things on their own blog, and simply put, they know their shit better than i do when it comes to beer and wine. i just like to drink it and photograph it. the other reason for dropping it is because it was kinda stressing me out a few months back, feeling like i HAD TO HAVE A NEW BOTTLE POSTED BY MONDAY. meh… less stress, more lazy.
if you’re wondering “WHERE DID HER BLOGROLL GO BECAUSE I WAS ON IT AND NOW IF THE BLOGROLL IS NOT THERE THEN I’M NOT THERE AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT ME…” fear not. my blogroll can now be found on it’s own page, at the top tool bar (haha, i love saying “tool”) and appropriately titled “hooked on.” if you’re not on my blogroll and thus feel neglected and alone, let me know.
so take a gander… go ahead. don’t be scurred.
pull up a seat and pour yourself a glass of crazy.
cheers!
welcome back cystic acne and high school
funny thing just happened… i was brought back to high school via email. i’m on the email list for our graduating class (i say “our” because paul and i went to high school together, incase you didn’t already know that.)
why am i on this list? i dunno.
how did my high school get my contact info? i dunno.
what do i typically do when i see these emails in my inbox? click “delete” and move on.
this morning, however, i received an email from a former high school classmate about my blog.
the first thing that went through my mind was “oh shit, i’ve offended someone with my language, my tattoos, my liberal, hippie-loving, cheap wine-drinking self.”
instead of hitting “delete,” i read the email. and read sweet words from someone i have not been in contact with for YEARS. like LONG ASS YEARS.
it’s funny when i think about who may be out there reading this blog, finding out about my blog from my facebook page, following me on twitter, etc… (enter your social networking site of choice here) that i don’t know about.
my webmaster can attest to the fact that i know NOTHING when it comes to tracking anything in terms of numbers on my blog… i don’t know my stats. i don’t track who reads about my insanity, subscribes to my RSS feed.
i don’t even know what a damn RSS feed is… except that it doesn’t sound edible.
what i now know is that people actually read this.
people read my words, and some *GASP* actually enjoy reading my words.
AND to top it all off, some of these people who are reading my words, i know… like in real life.
i have a history with some of these people. hell, i’ve made out with some of these people.
shut up, paul, so have you!!! i just made out with more.
it’s just funny… this epiphany that probably should’ve dawned on me a helluva long time ago, when i went public with my blog and started truly pursuing my writing career. i should’ve realized then that the words i write will be seen by people, including people who know/knew me.
but the vast majority of my readership who comment are people that i don’t “know.” i mean, we “know” each other via blogs, etc… but we haven’t made out… yet.
shut up, paul, i’m joking.
::wink::
in addition to this awesome high school-esque revelation, on this day that i received the email i mentioned above, my chin decided to break out in all kinds of pimply goodness.
apparently my post-sperminator, IUD extraction hormones are finally figuring out that they have been freed.
so yay for me… for acne… for growing the hell up and then being taken back to your teens in the blink of an eye.
and thanks… for reading… and letting me know. that’s kinda badass.
risky business
it’s kinda funny… this blog space. this outlet that bloggers have to voice whateverthehell they want to voice.
i’m having one of those days when i just want to contain this space of mine… keep it sacred… get back to the roots of it.
the foundation.
and have peace.
at the same time, i want to climb to the top of my apartment building and scream. i want to blog about certain things that aren’t necessarily peaceful but are nevertheless true.
the world isn’t always a pretty place.
yet my space is mine, unique to me and my voice.
no one else’s.
to have this place where i can use my words and my voice is a truly wonderful thing.
sometimes it’s easy to forget that.
sometimes i forget that.
but today i remembered.
i’ve been working a lot on other projects, getting pulled in different directions, but all the while, i am yearning to come back here… to my blog.
my place.
my space.
we bloggers write what we feel, what we experience, and what we want others to know. we share. we communicate. we connect.
those connections can work both for us and against us. and i’ve seen both sides of this connection.
even still, i want my space.
and as i anxiously await to have it all back, complete and whole once again, i also anxiously await the new connections that will be made.
new readers. new comments. new voices.
i cherish the connections that still exist here in this space of mine.
i honor my readers and care about you all in a way that i struggle to convey in words.
to have someone, anyone truly listen to you or read your words is a gift.
but in order to receive that gift, you need to risk giving up a bit of your space and inviting people in.
my son is guilty of racial profiling but i really want to wear this dress
so i will be single-parenting it this weekend as paul has a work trip. i’m not that excited about it, but if i bitch and moan, then i fear all the single parents out there smacking me via comments.
for the record, i am in utter amazement of the single parents in the world. i don’t know how you do it. my husband is a fantastic co-parent and i can still barely keep my head above water.
so now that that is out of the way…
there’s this thing i want to go to on saturday… and i actually WANT to go to it, which is really strange because the last time there was this thing… this blogging get-together thing, i didn’t want to go… nay, i was scared to go and basically had to be talked into going by a hot chick and chauffered by another.
but i went.
and i want to go to this one on saturday.
and i still have NO BABYSITTER.
i have a hot dress… a hippie dress… a dress that i got out in seattle that i love and have badass gladiator sandals to wear with it.
goddamit i want to wear my outfit and pretend to be an adult for an evening!
so yesterday i take the 2 year old magoo to get the dress hemmed because the majority of the time that i wear this dress, i plan to wear it with my badass gladiator sandals and currently the dress is just too damn long.
and we walk into the cleaners/alterations shop yesterday morning, jackson and i, and i tell the woman, “i have a dress that i would like the hem taken up on.”
the woman looks at me and the dress and then points and says, “you go to the dressing room. i will get pins.”
we go… jackson and i. in the dressing room that is the size of a fucking airplane bathroom.
i undress to undies and my bra that gives me lovely cleavage, i might add. jackson picks up my jeans and says, “mommy, pants.”
“no babe. mommy doesn’t need her pants right now. mommy is putting on a dress.”
“mommy, PANTS.”
“NO. MOMMY IS PUTTING ON A DRESS.”
see my point?!?!
i can hear the seamstress giggling at my 2 year old, who will most likely end up in therapy one day talking about the time mommy took him into a dressing room the size of an airplane bathroom and said “no” to wearing pants.
so we step out of the dressing room and i tell the seamstress where i’m wanting the dress to hit. jackson looks at himself in the tri-fold mirror and is all “jackson… jackson… JACKSON!!!!”
then he twirls. apparently my son is quite vain.
then he falls because he got dizzy, and i am just thankful that he didn’t fall on any stick pins that are all over the floor.
the seamstress pins my dress accordingly and sends me back to the dressing room.
once again i hear from jackson, “mommy, pants.”
mommy puts her pants back on this time.
“all done. all done NOW, mommy,” demands my son.
with one arm through my t-shirt and another arm lifting up the magoo who is on the verge of a breakdown, we emerge from the dressing room.
the seamstress begins to write up the slip telling me that hemming my dress will cost me much more than i thought it would.
good christ, you could actually make a really decent living as a seamstress… i make a mental note to remember this and learn to sew.
she gives me my pink slip of paper, telling me to pick the dress up at 5 pm on saturday.
i give the slip back to her.
the thing i want to attend is on saturday night.
she and i go back and forth about when the dress can be ready because this is prom week and apparently the majority of sparkly teenaged hos are getting their dresses altered this week too.
and i’m all “ok, i need this for an event.”
and she’s all, “you can pick it up 5 o’clock saturday.”
and then jackson points at her and says, “lucy.”
we both look at jackson.
::crickets::
“lucy mom,” says jackson.
the seamstress starts to giggle and my face turns beet red.
i don’t get embarrassed easily.
she hands me my pink slip, which reminds me of detentions i got in middle school.
jackson waves goodbye to her and once again says, “lucy.”
and the seamstress is giggling at jackson and says, “buhbye baby.”
and as we walk out of the cleaners/alterations place, i shut my eyes briefly, shake my head and realize that my son… my 2 year old son is guilty of racial profiling.
because he has playdates with an 18 month old little girl named lucy… an 18 month old little girl whose father is white and mother is asian.
::head desk::
please tell me my kid is not the only one who has done something like this, so i don’t continue to feel utterly mortified.
*it should also be noted that my blog is still under construction after being hacked and won’t allow me to link to anything or anyone, which i would’ve liked to do in order to credit the event that i will most likely not be attending on saturday night because i have no babysitter.*
i’m back, i promise… but i’ve been hacked
i considered vlogging this post for a split second and then the amount of kleenex i have gone through since returning from the dominican back to the land of endless pollen got the better of me.
trust me, you’re better off this way too.
that being said, yes, i am back. and i appreciate those of you who have emailed, tweeted and sent me love on facebook wondering why i have only posted once since coming home from vacay.
no, i have not been on the toilet, shitting endlessly on my home throne.
my site was hacked.
hacked.
i don’t even know what that means entirely, but it’s not pretty.
nor is the pollen count here in maryland.
*ACHOO*
so i guess what i’m trying to say is that i am here, on twitter, gchatting, skyping and whatnot. i’m still writing posts (actually with pen and paper. IMAGINE THAT!!!) and once my blog has a functioning heartbeat again and comes out of surgery, i will get back to my regular posting.
until then, this precious place of mine is in the brilliant and trusted hands of @PrincessJenn who is busily fixing, debugging, saving my posts, figuring out messed up databasing, and prettyfying my blog.
if you scope things out around here and start thinking “when did nic begin writing in tongues?” don’t worry too much. things are going to look a little different, be a little different and better in time.
thanks for sticking with me, dear ones.
i’m here. i’m back. i promise.
i’ve just been hacked.
no biggie… it’s not like i’ve shared every moment of my son’s life on here, or anything astoundingly personal.
jenn’s got my back… and my blog.
send good vibes puhlease.
ok, i’m going to find more kleenex, take more tablespoons of honey, make some tea and search for eye drops in the hopes that i don’t continue looking like i’m high as a kite on allergy medicine.
be glad i didn’t vlog this post. be very glad.
pollen sucks.
so does being hacked.
Have a Sip
