Disco may be dead, but I’ll be damned if it sucked.
Remember back in the good ol’ days when we all thought disco wouldn’t die?
You know, like an incessant whiny housefly you’ve swatted at twenty times — and yet it keeps on doing the Hustle?
And then, perhaps all too soon, the Last Dance was actually the last. And the sun went down on KC’s Sunshine Band. And Studio 54 ran out of coke.
Maybe disco didn’t suck. Maybe it was just horribly misunderstood.
This blog kind of died too. But I’ll be damned if it sucked.
I’ve been away a long time. And I didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note or call to tell you my plans. Not even those made-up kinds, like I’m just staying the night at Christy’s house tonight and, yes, I promise her parents are there.
Nothing. How irresponsible of me.
WordPress declared my blog dead too.
July 1st marked my blog’s 2-year anniversary. Woohoo!
To celebrate, after 18 months of living high on the blog-hog, WordPress stripped me from its short list of Recommended Humor Blogs.
That hurt, WordPress. That hurt bad.
And then I returned to my blog this week, after a two and a half month leave of absence, and the windows were all boarded up. My newspapers were piled in the front lawn, my screen door was stuffed with sales flyers, and squatters were hanging out giving time-share presentations to whoever stopped by.
Not the kind of homecoming I expected.
Well, speaking of squatters, if you want to know the truth of why this blog fell apart, it’s this. Earlier this year, a little thing called pregnancy happened.
And the little womb squatter I’m now supporting is likely not getting out until he’s good and ready. Which will be a while.
I forgive that he’s cramped my blogging style.
But I might not forgive him for the other styles he’s cramped.
Like how I now find stretchy polyester to be the best invention since Fruity Pebbles. And how I’ve surmised that housecoats really can be both practical and fun.
But while I haven’t been blogging lately, I also haven’t been cleaning the cat litterbox. So I’ve got that going for me.
I don’t know where I’ll go from here with my blogging. It feels like this might be the end, my dear flashback friends. Especially when I try to envision balancing a baby on my boob, while I burn the midnight oil to upload inane images like this one:
Which probably would look exactly like this . . .
. . . only, in my version, Mary is at her laptop searching for an obscure Billy Ocean video and screaming profanities.
But on the other hand, this blog means way too much to me to want to give it up.
Don’t give up on me just yet. Right now I’m mulling over the future of my writing — and pondering what things will look like down the road. Like whether my butt will stay this way. And how I hope he has hair this time — but not on his back.
And after all, even Twinkies are now making a comeback! Hip, hip, hooray!
And I heard this song on the radio just yesterday! And I didn’t even hate it!
Although, I was obviously wearing something like this at the time . . .
. . . so that probably skewed my thinking.
To be continued?