Cheery

So. Bad day today.

I've been wondering if I'm really ready to start blogging again--if, in my current state, I have anything to say that anyone wants to read, if I have the energy to put into it. I don't know, to be honest. But I've ALSO been thinking a lot about Moxie's advice to "trust your instincts and look for the helpers" in life.

You guys are the helpers. Thank you all so much for your comments and emails.

Here's to a new year and a new start. May we all trust our instincts and find the helpers in 2009.

It's A Hard-Knock Life

I have lots more to say, OBV, and additional made-up questions to non-answer, but first: A Middle-Class Sob Story!

Through totally legitimate and kosher means, I find myself in possession of a $100 bill. You see how I feel all defensive? That's how shady and nervous-tummied a $100 bill makes me. Don't worry, it's me, not you. That's not, like, NORMAL or whatever. Just another one of my many adorable quirks.

Anyway, I might as well be carrying $100 in MONOPOLY money around in my purse. That's how useful a $100 bill is. I'll have you know that I put $1.50 on my CREDIT CARD this morning when I bought my coffee, while that mofo $100 sat there and glared, mocking me! I was like, I HAVE MONEY! I do! But what were my options?

1) Be That Dick who pays for $1.50 in coffee with a crisp HUNDO, causing the cashier to seethe with hatred while he calls the manager at home for the nuclear launch codes to open the safe and the line behind me grows. (NO. HORRIFYING.)

2) Gather another 30ish dollars in superfluous 7-11 merchandise to bring my total into the Acceptable Change Range. Not as easy as it seems, especially if you already own jumper cables and subscribe to every gossip rag on the planet. (Totally unrelated: WHERE is my "Half Their Size" issue of US Weekly, I ASK YOU? WHERE?)

So. Here I sit. Inflation rapidly eroding the value of my $100, while I remain paralyzed. I really need to start investing in more liquid assets, like solid gold nuggets. Anyway, I'll let you know how it plays out.

The First Rule of Post-Divorce-Blog Club

So, listen, you guys. Call me fussy, but HERE is something I am hoping to avoid: this blog coming up as the FIRST FUCKING SEARCH RESULT when someone googles my first name. Which may or may not have been the case with that OTHER blog, which we shall hereafter codename "Tussling With Tussy".

Anyway, despite the best efforts of Red Sox Nation, I still share my name mostly with elderly black ladies, who unfortunately for all of us have a minimal internet presence. As such, I am quite google-able (as an aside, I would like to take this opportunity to ask you all to reconsider your rabid obsession with "unique" names. If I was Jennifer FakeHispanic, I could post a daily nude photo with no threat of retribution and HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT A TOP 10 NAME NOW?).

So. Ahem. My friends and family call me "Tess"--I consider you all friends, possibly due to my tragic lack of the internet security gene, so I'd love it if you all did the same.

Well, That Went Off The Rails With The Quickness

So, I was thinking a good way to take advantage of your (hypothetical) elation over the new blog would be to slap you with a meme, like straight out of the gate. I popped over to Linda's and grabbed her end-of-year dealie, which, incidentally, I then HIGHLIGHTED and PRINTED, all old-school (WHY?). My carbon footprint could have been made with a GLACIER, I'll tell you that much.

ANYHOO, I was reading over the meme questions, and mentally composing my Debbie Downer answers, and thinking to myself that this thing is going to be followed by a significant Long Awkward Pause, because SRSLY. So depressing. And even though I distinctly remember reading these last year and lamenting all of the Life Is Beautiful answers, I hate to take things TOO far in the other direction.

So let's do this: I'll pick and choose which questions I want to answer, possibly changing the question entirely to suit my (crabby) needs! ALRIGHTY! Don't give me any lip, either. You know you're going to skim anyway, if you haven't already Marked As Read in a fit of indignant rage.

Let's get this out of the way, first thing: I am sadder, and fatter, and poorer than this time last year. And listen, I don't want to be a total sour-grape-munching bitch (DIRTY!), and I offer my hearty congratulations to all of you "happier, thinner, richer" people, I really do, but at least ONE of you Pollyannas had better pony up to being sadder. It seems statistically unlikely that we ALL keep getting happier, and HAPPIER, and HAPPIER, with each passing year, is ALL I'M SAYING. I don't want to get all math-y on you, and I know historically we've not attached any kind of HAPPINESS MULTIPLIER, and therefore this is only an estimate, but we've been doing this meme for a few years now, and some of you are approaching a Happiness Value that is off of the acceptable grid. Just PUMP THE BRAKES for a few years, mkay? Is that so hard? Erm. That sort of came out in a vaguely creepy misery-loves-company way, when really I just wanted to point out the MATH, and...oh, nevermind.

Whoa. What the hell HAPPENED to this post? Have we even answered any actual questions yet? Well, I guess I should pace myself and stop here. Actually, wait, I have time for one more!

Instead of answering question #24, regarding the best book I read this year, I would like to tell you about the WORST book I read in 2008. The Time Travelers Wife. That's right. You heard me.

BEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE, I know

Um. Hey. Hi.

So, I'm all RUSTY and shit.

Nonetheless: BACK. Ish.

Yeah, you might want to hold your applause until the end. Sarcastic slow-clapping is allowed.

Missed you guys.

xoxo