Friday Funnies: Blog, Burn, Tweet, Plurk (they’re not just bathroom sounds anymore)

First I got sucked into the blogosphere. Then came Google Reader and Feedburner. It was great. I could keep tabs on my favorite peeps and save time by having everything organized in one place. All was well.

Then Homer tells me about Twitter. His description was less than impressive.

I passed up on the facebook/myspace thing because a) someone my age on that playground just seems creepy and b) I had yet to see anything of substance in those venues. If I wanted to hear mindless prattle with people spouting off on stuff they have no clue about, I could read my local paper online and scan the comments below each story.

I was too busy. Too smart. Why bother? Twitter just seemed like an extension of the cyber-babble.

Then I got hooked.

Some of my RW (real world) friends were on and since I never seemed to have time to chat with them, I thought it would be a good idea to sign up and stay in touch.

Then I found some of my favorite bloggers.

Then the PR people found me. Ugh. (Rule #1 in PR. Don’t PR PR people. We can see BS from a mile away.)

By that time, RW Buddies Popping Bubbles and CajunVegan dragged me from Twitterberg to Plurkville.

The grass is indeed greener.

Yes, Plurk can easily become the biggest time suck in my life since I encountered the Sims (when Boo was a baby, I don’t know what left me more sleep deprived – the 3 a.m. feedings or the fact that I had to get my Sim promoted so he could get married and have kids before she woke up again). I’m trying to keep it under control. But it’s hard.

It’s hard because I’ve encountered some of the most fascinating people. The conversation can be mindless babble, like the constant strings of “good morning,” “I’m going to bed,” “What are you having for dinner?” and “Isn’t Plurk great?” But it can be insightful, funny, comforting, and (shocker) a bit racy at times.

I’ve plurked (you’ll be amazed how “plurk” becomes a part of vocabulary and you start talking like Strawberry Shortcake or a Smurf) with people in the UK, Australia, and across the country. Heck, I’m even Plurking with the Mars Rover. We share common interests – working professionals, parents, hobbies, relationships. We’ve talked about some heady stuff – when to butt into a family dispute, depression, addictions, politics, the environment, and even the presidential election in Zimbabwe.

Even the mindless babble is comforting. In the age of the self-imposed solitary confinement that the Internet Age has brought us, we feel a little closer, a little more connected, a little more real.

So, join me in Plurkville, but be warned, it may become the next Internet crack.

Yes, I know there’s no audio, but I thought it was funny that this came up in You Tube under “plurk video” and couldn’t resist.

Thursday Thirteen: 13 things that are really stressing me out right now

It’s been a tough week. I hate it when people play “my life is more screwed up than yours.” So, this isn’t meant to open the flood gates to a group therapy session. It’s not that I don’t care how messed up your life is. In most cases, I do. But in this case, I just need to do a little spleen venting. So, bear with me.

1. I got a new promotion. Yea! More responsibility!
2. My organization is going through serious budget cuts. Yea! No raise!
3. I may have to layoff some of the best people I’ve ever worked with.
4. My brother and his family are coming for an extended visit. Yea! My mom’s going off the deep end trying to become Barbara Billingsley.
5. My dad’s birthday is Sunday and he’s expecting a big celebration (especially since said brother is coming to visit).
6. My dad can’t go out to celebrate because his health is deteriorated so badly.
7. We’ve re-adopted my old cat from my parents and the fur is flying.
8. We’re going out of town this weekend and I’m no where near ready to go.
9. We’re organizing a social event on Friday night and apparently we have no idea what’s going on.
10. I’m sheparding a group of my colleagues through a professional accreditation process and I can’t seem to recruit the right people to help me.
11. I’m worried that I’m giving these people the advice they need to be successful. If I lead them astray, they’re going to be really disenfranchised and out of a lot of money.
12. I’m not getting enough sleep. I’m eating crap that makes me feel worse.
13. I’m spending no quality time with my kids. It’s showing in their behavior.

Wordless Wednesday – This is my day.

The M and M (and M)

If you’re a fan of any medical drama, you probably know that “m and m” means “Morbidity and Mortality.” There’s some sort of post-trauma meeting where a bunch of well-meaning medical professionals gather to talk about how they supremely f***d up someone, or unwittingly introduced them to their maker.

I have a feeling that we’re going to have to have an M and M here pretty soon at the FandPinLV household.

“Missy….you remember your old roommate, Maggie right? Well, she’s ba-ack?”

It’s M and M all over again. You see, we brought back one cat, Maggie, who was on quasi-permanent loan with my parents, into our household tonight. My brother’s family is coming for an extended visit this summer and my nephew is pretty allergic to cats. So, mom flashed her “get your crazy cat the heck out of my house” card and sent Maggie packing.

Homer graciously offered to handle the door-to-door transfer.

“Should I get the cat carrier from the house first? Does your mom have one?”, he asked.

“Nah,” I reply. “It’s only a few blocks. She can’t get into THAT much trouble. You’ll be fine.”

Fast forward a few hours. I am home with Boo and Doodle. I’m trying to get dinner on the table before I rushed off to meet Svetlana (my personal torture expert trainer). The door opens. I hear hissing, spitting, and yowling and see a flash of fur dash past me.

In comes Homer. He’s soaked with cat pee and none too happy.

“Uh honey”, he says. “The cat carrier would have been a good idea.”

So far Maggie is still in the master bedroom and Missy is lurking about the rest of the house, plotting (I’m sure) her path to world domination. Hopefully my new bedspread can escape unscathed.

Stay tuned.

At first, I thought this mught be a good video companion.

Uh, maybe not. Let’s try this.

Hmmm, that’s better, if not a bit show-tuney.

Oh, the other “M” is a true mortality…one of Homer’s snakes passed away tonight. It had been on the decline for the last few weeks. It had lived a long, productive life (as productive as a pet snake can be, I suppose). Needless to say, he’s still a bit sad. Something tells me, though, he already has plans for a new occupant for that tank. I won’t dust off my “vacancy” sign just yet.

Boo’s Big Debut

After at least eight long months, the big day was here. Boo’s first ballet recital.

She’s been plugging away at her weekly classes with a gaggle of three- and four-year-olds tapping, pointing, and tumbling (in between potty breaks). Her teacher, Minnie Mouse (named for her incessantly sweet, patient, and cherry nature and soft, high-pitched voice), was amazing. I’ve never seen one person herd a flock of post-toddler princesses into something resembling a dance routine.

We didn’t have much in the way of expectations. We were going to be shocked if everyone got on and off the stage at the same time without falling apart into a huge pile o’ tears.

Here they are.

Boo’s is the middle. They all made it through. It probably wasn’t the Martha Graham performance that some parents were hoping for, but we were thrilled. Boo not only stayed on stage for the whole time, she actually led the troops through their paces. She actually seemed to be one of the only kids on the stage who could focus on Minnie Mouse’s cues (from the footlights) and made the moves anywhere near the right timing.

I was holding a squiggling, squaking Doodle in the aisles as my eyes were welling up with pride. I couldn’t believe this was my child. Homer and I have no coordination. My dance moves are more akin to Elaine from Seinfeld than So You Think You Can Dance. I was beginning to wonder if this was her calling. I was wrong. We’ll be back my pretty pink princess. We’ll be back for more moments like these.

Not like these.