Hey, all! Today I’m a guest over on Super-Blogger Pregnant Chicken’s site. If you haven’t been over there yet, click here when you’re done hanging out with me. There’s a solid chance this post will go up before that one, so if you’re a member of the Association of Accidental Assclowns, give her a bit to wake up, get her Tim Horton’s on, drink some Molson Ice, meditate on Gretzky or whatever it is Canadians do to start their day. It’s a great site about real parenting and real pregnancy. You aren’t going to find any posts over there about the beauty of creating life or about how if you don’t devote 100% of your mind/body/spirit to your children you aren’t a good mom. Also there’s a lot of cussing. And inappropriate comments. And other things that make me feel like Amy and I are going to be like bffs for-ev-ah. She’s like a Canadian WTMother. Only she’s the super successful, well-established, and really, REALLY polite version. You know. Because, Canadian.
So how did all this happen? Well, a few weeks ago, I tagged her in a comment on FB where I was all, “Hey! Amy Morrison! You’re pretty! You should totally let me do a guest post for you.” And then she was all “Hey! You’re awesome, eh! Email me, hoser!” And I was all:
And then she said “You have a blog, right?”
And so I decided that, hey, I should probably go ahead and make that pretend blog that I’ve been writing in my head for over five years into a REAL blog. And here I am. And here you are. So if you’re here from there, then welcome! Feel free to click around a bit, add me to your blog roll, and then go like my Facebook page here. There isn’t a whole lot here yet. But there’s a whole lot of crazy in here (**points to head**) queued to make its escape. I promise to at least be entertaining.
Okay… back to my story.
I sent her a draft of the guest post that’s over there today. Pretty soon, we were bonding over things like faeries and wine and jokes about Adderall. (Disclaimer: Jokes about the abuse of controlled substances are not funny. Drug abuse is not a joke. Which is why responsible mothers would never joke about scoring Adderall to finish your child’s science fair project on lima beans abusing it.)
So then in a wine-fueled moment of taking advantage of Canadian politeness social awkwardness, I was all, “Can we be like, IN REAL LIFE Facebook friends?”
And she was all “Oh wuck yes! You’re crazy like me and not mail-me-a-cat-carcass crazy though, right?”
To which I responded, “Hmmmm. How do you feel about LIVE animals? What if you just don’t ever open the box and you just call me Schrodinger while you stroke my hair and tell me I’m pretty?”
And she sent me a friend request then said, “Now I want a cat to name Schrodinger. Damn!” I mean, right?!?!?! She’s me. Except with a Social Media following of 97,583 (as of 12:16 a.m. Chicago time) and better hair. Because anyone who knows me in real life knows that the only way I would agree to adding another cat to this home is if I could name it Schrodinger.
And as soon as the dude I met on a super-fan SubReddit she gets back to me with her mailing address, I’m totally going to send her the life-sized cardboard cutout of myself I promised so that she can take me drinking with her.