I realize practically every blogger on the planet does this exact post, but holy hell I can see why. Because this shit is funny. So here you have it: the “Best Of Google Search Terms” post. These are terms people have entered into Google and used to ultimately find my blog (kinda scary).

Because I like to be helpful, I’ve given little responses to the searcher. Right, helpful. That’s it.

“do I have the mind of a 9-year-old?” – Well I think that may be pushin’ it. Perhaps more like a 4-year-old, since you apparently think the internet has some insight on the inner workings of your particular mind.

“why do i want to headbutt things when i’m angry?” – Because you’re angry and you have poor coping skills.

“how to tell when people hate you?” – If you don’t know I can promise pretty much everybody hates you.

“I’m not pooping i’m just thinking real hard” – Thank you for clearing that up. I was concerned. Although I’m guessing you’re really not thinkin’ that hard.

“my life is miserable because I’m a crackhead” – Yes, I imagine it is. At least we’ve pinpointed the problem. Now hmmmmm…. a possible solution…. Huh. I for one am stumped. Let’s go smoke some crack and think about it.

“goldfish poop hanging out” – Yep, just hanging out. Just kicking it. But why my friend would you GOOGLE such a thing? What do expect to find? Photos of a fish bowl with poop? Suggestions on the topic? Empathetic stories?

“10 interesting reasons to wear clean clothes” – Sorry, the only ones I know are pretty uninteresting, like “not stinking” and “not looking like a homeless person.”

“I’m too old to change my mistakes” – Welcome to the club.

“why do my ed hardy seat covers sag” – The critical question here is not why your Ed Hardy seat covers sag, but rather, my friend, why the hell you own Ed Hardy seat covers in the first place.

“med school stop fucking with me” – You are not increasing my confidence in the medical profession.

“I feel like I pretend being an adult” – Is there any other way to do it?

“I’m a bad mother because I curse and yell a lot” – You’ve come to the right place, sister.

“how a crack head thinks” – Well a lot about crack, I imagine.

“how does the flap on a onesie work?” – Wait. Seriously?

“how to dress like a waldorf mom” – If you’re asking this question, you’ve already totally missed the Waldorf boat.

“damn, I am sleeping with my roommate’s mom” – That is too bad. I hate it when that happens. It’s kinda like when I wake up saying “Damn, I have a sore tooth.” You know, bad luck and whatnot.

“parenting toddlers with stickers” – It’s gonna take a little more than that, buddy.

AND MY PARTICULAR FAVORITE ON SO MANY LEVELS:

“what to do when you pet your cat on meth” – I just don’t know where to begin. Maybe…slow down?

We’re going to be featured on Hoarders!

No, we are not.

That was a lie.

[But you probably knew that already, because who the hell would excitedly announce online “We’re gonna be on a show featuring sociopaths who collect shit!”? Okay, I know. I know. It’s a mental illness. It’s serious, very sad, what a shame, etc. But it’s a damn funny mental illness. And a weird one. And I make fun of everybody, including myself. Plus, I’m rude. The end.]

Though we didn’t actually get invited to Hoarders, I bet if we sent them pictures of our hallways, living room and kitchen, we might get the green light.

Now you may ask, “Why does your house suddenly appear like one of those whack-job homes on Hoarders?”

Let me lay it out for you in plain English: because my husband and I are fucking psychos.

That was not a lie.

So you all know what my life has been lately, right? Okay, perfect. So the full gravity of the following story will hopefully sink in appropriately: on Tuesday the husband and I went to Ikea (swoon – so much crap! Most of which I can afford! And it looks only like semi-crap once it’s installed in the home! Yay!). No seriously I love that place. Don’t judge.

ANYWAY, so we get there and we’re buying a few organizational items for what will become the homeschool room, and Mac sees these fake wood floors for very, very cheap and announces “Dude, let’s put this in the homeschool room, TODAY.” And since I’ve been asking for non-carpet in there and we’re poor and I’m a total and complete lunatic, I say “for real? Yeah. Good idea.”

Holy fuck why can’t we just  be like normal people? You know, the kind who plan shit?

Why isn’t there a little voice in my head that says “MAYDAY JANELLE MAYDAY!! – redoing the floors requires moving everything out of the room in question and all that furniture and stuff will be in your hallways and living areas and it NEVER takes one day to do projects like this you steaming pile of idiot! SAY NO SAY NO!”

 But I say “yes.” Because there is something wrong with me.

So for the last 5 days you have to walk sideways down my hall and there’s a piano in my entryway and we’ve all been eating in little huddles on the floor, where there’s space. The best part is trying to carry the baby down the hall, sideways, so she’s facing the photos hung on the walls…and grabbing for them. So you have to like DART quickly sideways down the hall.

Somebody please shoot me.

Because it’s even worse than previously indicated. Once we got the floors down I realized I hate the wall color with the floors. So.we.painted.  But while at Home Depot buying the paint for the walls I saw crown moulding and said to myself “well now looky there! Ain’t that pretty?!” So we bought some. But it had to match the base boards. So we painted all.of.that.too.

And now? We’re running like hell to put this together and I ask you, from the bottom of my heart, “WHY DO I DO SHIT LIKE THIS?”

Perhaps more importantly, “Why do I never LEARN from doing shit like this?”
Because I can guarantee you the next time we do work on our house, the circumstances will be just like this time.

And it will suck just as bad.

Though in our defense, it looks damn good (I’ll post pics when it’s done). Plus, we’re having a really good time making up “caulking” jokes [read: “cock-ing”]. Yes, we’re classy.

[To cheer me up, please CLICK HERE (or on the badge on the right) to vote for me for CBS Sacramento’s Most Valuable Blogger Award. I’ve never been nominated for anything, let alone won anything. So please. Hook it up, friends.]

I’m a real blogger now.

Know why?

Because Courtney at JudithShakes Designs created for me a real blog and a real logo (and, therefore, a real identity). Thanks, Courtney, for that.

Not only does the woman [obviously] create badass websites, but she has a brilliant wry sense of humor, an approachable, totally not annoying communication style, and I’m sure if she didn’t live in whatever god-forsaken humidity-ridden state she’s currently residing in we’d totally be BFFs. Or some bizarre derivative thereof.

And not only that. I also have a Facebook page – you can also get there in the LOGO – how rad is that? (And I’d really really like it if you’d like me. Please like me. I need you to like me. I’ll die if you don’t like me. I’ll camp on your front lawn and weep until you like me. (I’m practicing my codependent routine. How was it?)).

Okay but seriously I only have 29 “likes” – kinda pathetic, especially considering I KNOW I have AT LEAST 33 readers.

Ha.

And you can follow me on The Twitter – (oh hells yeah I have a custom one). I go on The Twitter occasionally to say really profound shit in 140 characters or less. Actually it’s more like 136, since 4 are automatically taken up with the F word.

Or you can subscribe. Since I’m a real blogger now you probably feel compelled to subscribe or follow. No worries. Just go with that.

Also, since apparently when cool things happen they happen all at once…my new best friend nominated me for CBS Sacramento’s Most Valuable Blog Award…please vote for me by clicking the badge on the left or THIS LINK. I’ll owe you my life. Apparently you can vote every day. That would be totally fine with me.

And… I’m done with the shameless self-promotion. You’ll never ever see it again.

I lie.

But seriously, what do you think of the new digs?

P.S. If you hate it, I’ll tell you it’s fine and that I appreciate the feedback while simultaneously planning ways to quietly destroy you. (That’s my passive aggressive codependent impersonation. You like?)

Goodbye employment. Hello homeless encampment.

Okay so we probably won’t end up homeless, but yesterday I quit my job. I QUIT MY JOB. On purpose. I quit my job on purpose.

Sorry. It still shocks me a little.

Why did I do such a thing?

Because I’m returning to graduate school.

Because I can’t return to graduate school and work and see my kids (at all, ever, even a little).

Because I’m effing INSANE.

I mean who does that? Abandons security, comfort, regular income to pursue a degree in English Literature, a virtually useless degree, a degree that promises no particular job at all – and if it results in ANY job it will surely be a low-paying one?

Who.does.that?

Well, I do. I guess.

But I had no choice. I stood at a crossroads. I kept writing posts like this one and this one, registering discontent and a feeling of lack – a sense of being unfulfilled. Something had to change. Something wasn’t right.

You know how sometimes you go through life and there’s this quiet suspicion in the back of your mind that maybe you should do something else? Like a low hum it buzzes constantly “Maybe you should go back to school, Janelle. Maybe you should quit work…” but it remains just an annoyance…background noise…until all the sudden it surfaces completely…rings like a crisp clear bell and YOU KNOW. You know what to do. Suddenly the path materializes in front of you and you just know “Oh. Right. I need to go this way now.”

Maybe I am insane. Maybe I am.

But despite my best efforts to come at it from a new angle, rework it, reinterpret it, it became undeniable that it was time for a change. The path had materialized and I just couldn’t go anywhere else. I tried to rig it – figure out how to do both work and school, but I found that was impossible. There are not enough hours. Something had to give.

It got down to a simple question: do I stay where it’s safe or risk everything to pursue what I love?

We chose to risk everything. And I say “we” because my husband – my heart, my rock, my truest and best friend (and staunchest supporter) – has told me in no uncertain terms that he’ll work 3 jobs to keep us alive, while I sit in a classroom discussing postcolonial theory with a bunch of skeptical sleep-deprived grad students.

I often feel that the universe gave me a kiss on the head when it sent me Mac. It’s like it said “Hey, you. Take this. Have this gift. You’ll be fine.”

And with him by my side, we will be fine.

[Wait. Hold on. I’m still a little flushed from that whole postcolonial theory thing. It’s so hot I’m struggling a little to find my words.]

Whew. That’s better.

Anyway, to answer your questions: No, we really can’t afford for me not to work. No, we don’t have a back-up plan. Yes, we may end up under a bridge.

But whatever, bridges are cool.

“Leap, and the net will appear.”

I’m learning to trust. I’m learning to be okay with the uncertainty. Sometimes you just have to LIVE, and worry about it later.

Right. I’m brave. I’m not scared. I laugh in the face of worry. I am a fearless spirit, trudging my way along the path of destiny.

[Oh shit. Did I really do this? Hold me.]

There are a few things that confuse me, a lot, even though I see them, um, a lot. Almost daily in fact. I don’t expect to ever understand them, but I’m becoming secure with confusion and uncertainty. They’re like old friends to me. You know. Old reliables. Good buddies. BFFs. Yeah. Okay. Enough of that.

So here’s ten. There are more.

1. Feeding babies & toddlers soda – WHY? They’re too young to even know soda exists, unless their parents introduce that crap to them. SO WHY DO IT? Why not just feed them healthy crap? The time will come soon enough when they start asking for crap food and crap drinks no matter how hard you tried to shield them from it, so why not take advantage of the brief interval of total control over their diets, without the whining complaints?! Not to mention, it’s a prime opportunity to look like a good parent without trying very hard. Psssht.
2. Giving kids caffeine – um, aren’t they annoying enough without the addition of stimulants?
3. Why female bathrooms don’t have more stalls than male ones – obviously, we need more. just look at the damn lines. Worried about equality? Whatever. Hundreds of years of a male-dominated society and you can’t do us this ONE TINY FAVOR?
4. License plate frames that say the make of the car they are attached to – Dude. We know you’re driving a Lexus. We can see the Lexus sign right next to the license plate frame. It’s actually JUST ABOVE IT. You’re kinda just being redundant, yo. No need to repeat oneself.
5. Leaving the stickers & tags on baseball caps – While I for one feel better knowing your Giants cap is indeed authentic, you look like a fucking asshat with that shiny sticker under your bill.
6. Baby stickers on car windows – okay so I understand how they get there. Kids stick them on the windows. What I don’t understand is why parents let their kids have stickers while they’re sitting in their car seats, judging from the number of people driving around with 1500 Dora the Explorer stickers on their rear windows. I mean what are they thinking? “It ain’t gonna happen to me?” – “My kid’s different?” And furthermore, why don’t they take the stickers off? Haven’t they heard of “Goo gone?”
7. Ed Hardy. In any form. We’ve been over this.
8. Leaf blowers – the name alone confuses me…”Leaf Blower.” Blowing leaves. Forcing air through a tube to move shit around. Not removing it. Not even cleaning it. Just blowing it around to a new location. And they are loud and they involve standing outside, usually in the sun, holding a loud roaring machine, pissing off every single neighbor in the vicinity…and for WHAT? Plus, who the fuck cares if there are leaves on your driveway? WHO? Oh right. People with neat houses and manicured landscaped yards.
9. How to fold fitted sheets – really, is there a way to not just wad them up in a vaguely rectangular shape? Is there?
10. Styrofoam plates – It’s a “plate,” and yet it melts when you put hot food on it. It MELTS WHEN YOU PUT HOT FOOD ON IT. Do you see a problem there?

Plus, they kill sea turtles.

And now we see, even fucking geniuses get confused sometimes.

or confused.