Thursday, January 8, 2009

This Is The Part Where I Ramble On About How I Wasn't Going To Campaign, BUT...

So.

What happens when you find out you've been voted a finalist for a Weblog Award?

Well, if you're me, all of a sudden you find yourself utterly void of anything interesting to say.

Irony, Alanis? Yeppers.

Apparently being recognized amongst a herd of awesome bloggers has rendered me goofy. ("Notes From The Trenches" Eeesh! I love her!!) Especially now that so many of you have chimed in to inform me that this is "sorta a big deal". Um. Yeah. While I wasn't aware of it before, now I seem to be suffering from an acute case of Weblog Award Performance Anxiety. Writing this post I'm a little splotchy and itchy and may be needing to rendezvous with a couple of Benadryls soon.

Truth be told, I've never really been a rise-to-the-occasion type person. And now that I need to be entertaining... Now that it would benefit me greatly if Sophie would kick it into gear and provide me with some award-winning up-the-nose antics or a few good ghost stories... Now that I really should be posting regularly to keep my new readers engaged and frequenting my site...


Ack! I got nothing!

I think maybe it's the voting/comparison part of things that makes me wonky. I mean, I know random strangers sometime stumble upon my blog - usually accidentally after googling the words: barf, puke, vomit, poop, or some combination thereof. And while "my numbers" have increased impressively over the past few days (welcome, hopefully-non-predatory internet strangers!), let's cut the bullpucky and just say it like it is: I'm a small time girl. My circle of faithful followers is really teeny and fits oh so cutely into my back pocket. Close friends, family, and other moms trudging through the pukes - that's my audience. To imagine otherwise kind of blows my hair back. There's something about being out there, mentioned amongst this group of fairly well-established blogs that just, well, I don't know, makes me ever so slightly twitchy.

All of a sudden I'm overly aware of what I'm writing. It's like there's a giant crop of Mr. Lindseys reading my stuff.

And it doesn't help that Russell, who curiously enough is VERY MUCH into this whole process (translation: obsessed), has made it his official duty to provide me with frequent updates regarding my status. "Yes! You're in the lead! ...Wait, you're tied for second. ...You're holding steady in third place. ...Oh, now you're fourth. I mean, fifth. Sixth." Uh huh. I get it. That's code for: "The Really Good Blogs are starting to kick your ass, honey." (Sigh.) I had a pretty impressive eyebrow spasm going on by the thirtieth time he'd hit 'refresh' on his laptop last night while we were watching Top Chef.

Serenity.

When we get down to it, peeps, competition - it's so not my gig. I crumble like a moldy piece of cheese. The nerve-wracking aspect of knowing you could single-handedly disappoint a whole group of people with your boneheaded performance - man, oh man, yikes. That's precisely why I pretend-played a flute in the band. Blending in nicely amongst those who actually produced music from their instrument, rather than participating in sports, where I would have been noticed. ...Well, that and the fact that I have not one teeny iota of athleticism in me. Just ask either of my mangled pinky fingers. Sixth grade P.E. - that was the last we ever saw of "Competitive" Kristy, thank goodness.

******

That said (ahem, pardon me while I show another cute picture of Sophie and hold up my giant "Vote for Kristy!" poster), if any of you would like to join in on the mania and vote for me, the folks in charge of the Weblog Awards have made it easy to do. There's no need to register. Just go over and participate in one click voting. You can return once every 24 hours to recast your vote through next Tuesday, January 13th.

A big thanks, again, to everyone who took the time to help get "Life On The Reflux Rollercoaster" to this point. I'm sorry to have to tell those of you out there doing the daily voting thing, a win for our camp looks pretty far-fetched. The dad playing the seizure card and the mom of quad boys are kicking some serious booTAY. Man! My hopes and dreams of fame and fortune... Still, it's an honor to be in the company of such a cool group of bloggers. It's nuts, actually.

Who knew barf and poop could be so captivating?

5 comments:

sarah p said...

No pressure coming from me. Just keep doing what you're doing. Forget about the people who may or may not be reading your blog and just write. You're a natural. No need getting all fancy and thinking really hard about it. =)

I laughed really hard at the pretend playing the flute part. You're hilarious. If Mr. Gray only knew....or did he?

Kritter Krit said...

He knew.

One time when we were outside for marching practice, he walked by me and said,

"Why isn't any sound coming out of your flute?"

I said,

"Because I can either march...or I can stand still and attempt to play something."

He said,

"Well. I think we should go with marching...since it'll be pretty obvious if you mess that up."

I agreed.

And in case you're wondering if it was just a can't-walk-and-chew-gum type issue, nope. I pretend-played the flute during concert season as well. I even pretend-played the piccolo during the final concert where they showcase the seniors.

Uh huh. I sure did. =)

Robert (Bob) English said...

Pretend-play? Holy crap!

Mindy said...

Well I look at your site now and then and am always pleased to read/see a new post. It's great to see the light at the other side of the pukes! You've helped this mama.

Anonymous said...

You may think you can't think and start to twitch when you're under pressure, but this post was an absolute HOOT to your ole mama! It's nice to see that even when under pressure, you can write one funny bunch of prose. Love, Mooms

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