The general idea is that I can churn out something interesting–or at least make it seem like I have something interesting–to write about. That’s a tough order considering I’m basically a working mom, with a son, a husband, and a cat and a small white house. We pay and we pay and we pay for stuff and the stupid things we do, and we work and we work and we work to be able to pay and pay and pay and… (it goes on), well, it’s not an incredibly interesting lifestyle, but I’ve done enough dumb things to make people perhaps want to read my posts, if only to laugh at my misfortunes. That said, I’m not the unluckiest person out there. In fact, I think I’m pretty fucking lucky. I’ve got a job, my family is healthy, we live comfortably, and things are generally dandy, but who the hell wants to read about that? If I have to embellish on my normal life with mixed metaphors and exaggerated expressions of sadness, joy, anger, resentment, etcetera, just so I can get people to actually follow me in this Blog Eat Blog World, then I’m your momma. And on that note, this isn’t a mommy blog. I’m a mom, that can’t be helped, but me claiming to be a mommy blogger and supposedly seeming like I know more about this mommying business than other mommies?–that’s just dangerous. So what’s this blog about? It’s about me–blogging, and trying to find the funny in a world where the unfunny can eat you alive, and the pit of sarchasm (no, I did not mispell that) can swallow you whole, and where irreverence can summon hell and devour your poor, misbegotten soul (I can go on with these eating metaphors), and so on and so forth ::burp::. So sit back, relax… enjoy Reality Blogging, and just like all those Hills and Laguna Beaches, I may come up with fiction every once in a while. Yes, fiction. Don’t worry, I won’t pass it off as real. I’ll tell you if it’s a short story, or maybe I won’t, but if you ever think my short stories (or long stories, depending on what inspires me) are real stories about me, then the vampire that sucked my blood in the alley one cold night ought to pick up a lamp post and hit you on the head with it.