It’s Riddled With Insane People

There I am! Everyday me on the left and blogging me on the right with my miraculous dagger boobs.

Child: Where are you going?

Mother: I have reservations for NY on the 6th and 7th of August.

Child: Your whole family is in NY, why aren’t you staying with them?

Mother: Well, this is for some sort of conference.

Child: What kind?

Mother: Uhhh, something from the internet.

Child: You said the internet is filled with 70-year-old ex cons and child molesters trying to lure us to another state and kidnap us. What makes you think this conference doesn’t have those things?

Mother: Well, (long pause) I guess I can’t be sure that there AREN’T any convicts or murderers but I’m pretty sure I have tangible proof that at least a few of these bloggers are on the up and up.

Child: What do you mean, BLOGGERS?

Mother: Well, I guess I blog sometimes.

Child: What!!?? You have a secret life?

Mother: No, it’s not like I’ve got another family across the country that I’m hiding or anything..

Child: LIAR!

Mother: Whatever, I’m going and none of you are coming with me.

Child: That’s not fair. We are going to start a blog to protest your stupid blog and then we are going to your conference with picket signs.

Mother: Enough with the “it’s not fair” bullshit, adults don’t run off to New York and come home in a body bag, kids do.

Child:  Oh yeah? You’ll see. Grandma says that the internets are riddled with mouth breathers who “rent” their elderly mom’s basement apartment and hone their serial killing skills. Just like Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs, but without the outfit made entirely of human skin.  You just want a weekend alone, you’re probably going to the spa.

Mother: Just because there may be a back rub and a trip into the sauna that does not mean it’s a spa. It’s a regular old hotel. Plus it’s time to stop listening to Grandma. She’s old and afraid of dying so everything looks to be a perilous journey that holds things that only your wildest imagination can convieve of.  Remember how she insisted there were a ring of fanny pack raiding professional thieves at Disney World who “STOLE HER CREDIT CARD!”?  Then she calmed down and found it in her left pants pocket?

Child: Do you write anything mean about us on that blog?

Mother: (under breath) You have no fucking idea. Cough, cough. No I only write nice things and observations about current events. I even have an alias so that no one from real life has ANY idea except Daddy! I’m like Barbara Gordon by day and Batgirl in the evenings when I type out all my frustrations and destroy crime.

Child: (crickets chirping)

Mother: It’s just for two days and I’ll be home. Consider it my birthday gift to myself.

Child: If some hobo doesn’t kill you and throw you in his card board box.

One week people.

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12 Comments

Filed under blog her, blogging, blogging for amateurs, blogging in obscurity, blogher, blogher 2010, busy days, madness, making up for lack of talent, me dumb you smart, mediocrity, reasons why I need a vacation, reasons why I'm not invited to the Kennedy compound, reasons why I'm not more popular, road trip

12 responses to “It’s Riddled With Insane People

  1. Well this 70 year old child molester can hardly wait to re-enact super gruesome scenes from Law and Order while constantly emptying the ice machine.

    • dufmanno

      I knew it.
      As long as you don’t do the one where Jack McCoy bucks the system and does something unorthodox to take down the triple murderer.
      God, I hope I have and ice machine on my floor!

  2. dufmanno

    Hey, maybe for my next post I can stop slumming it and actually write something instead of just repeating conversations I have with my kids.
    That would be a delightful change.

  3. If a blogging conference doesn’t have at least one murdering hobo ex-con, then it’s not worth attending.

    • dufmanno

      I think this one might have all that and more!
      101 degrees, thousands of lost upset out of towners getting their period and being asked for a dollar.
      This is the kind of case scenario that gives birth to a million legendary stories.
      Mind you, I’ll be watching cable in my air conditioned room the whole time but whatever.

  4. Either your children are the most brilliant children in the world (which every parent thinks they are), they’re actually my age (my parents think I am going to be kidnapped by a child molester at all times), or you took artistic liberties. I am ok with any and every combination of the three.

    Have a great time at the blogger conference! I’m sure no body bags will be in order, unless somebody messed with you and your dagger boobs. Bad news for that guy.

    • Dufmanno

      Sadly they were raised by the white hot fist of good old fashioned fear so the conversation actually took place. My one embellisment was having my dead body thrown in the hobos cardboard box after being murdered. Everything else came from the mouth of my very anxiety ridden eleven year old.
      My five year old had one thing to say during this exchange “you ARE NOT going to fucking New York!”
      I can’t wait actually, I do hope it’s fun, why don’t you go?

  5. Oh no! Secret identity blown!!! Do you want me to go zap them with my flashing pen to rid them of this memory?!

    1 week ladies!

  6. Dufmanno

    Yes please. Either that or I’ll shed that persona and slip on another!
    Pow, zoom, blam, swish. Done.

  7. Man, I hope my kids are never as sharp as yours. They sound dangerously on top of your shit. You best be clearing cookies nightly because one of them is going to track you down and comb through your archives noting every reference to their primal shenanigans.

    I forgot about BlogHer! I was supposed to get you little card thingies! Ack!

    Peace,
    Shannon

  8. hilarious! i had the same convo with my daughter. she was all in my face sarcastic with “um mom, number one rule of the internet: never go meet anyone you talk to on the internet that you don’t know.”

    she also scoffs at the idea of me even having a blog. wise ass little fucker. (god forbid, she ever sees it.)

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