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You Know Something’s Wrong When You Never Even Check Your Stats Anymore
Or write a post. Or sleep. In addition to my regularly-scheduled activities, I’ve been writing content, editing, and designing a website. Which is technically “up” except for a major bug, so I’ll hold off on the announcement. But I poured my heart and soul into this thing. And Matthew spent the last two months doing all sorts of techie things in its creation, things that I don’t even know the complexity of, but doing them consumed all his time. And he is very very good at what he does, and is about 1000 times faster doing anything connected with a computer than I am (except Twitter. Twitter is totally my…
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100 x365 #8: That Boss From Tulsa
You were responsible for the faux Texas accent I adopted for two full years, the one that seemed real because it got stronger as I got drunker. Every morning you’d ask someone to pop open your can of Pepsi; with your 3-inch nails you couldn’t manage it. I emulated you too much (except for the nails; I could never get into even painting mine let alone the weekly maintenance) and when you got distinctly colder after I hit on your ex-husband in the hot tub on your birthday, I figured out you weren’t over him and I went too far.