Like coming out of some sort of closet, really. It’s like I’m officially saying, “LOVE ME! LOVE ME! pretend I’m not just a little scary and LOVE ME!” And I don’t want to say that. I mean, I do, because I’m co-dependent, but I don’t, because I want to appear like I don’t give a damn what you think.
Like my friend, JillSmo. Holy crap. I’m in love with her in every way. She’s like she’s the honey badger of blogging (over at Yeah, Good Times). Right now on her blog, she’s doing a giveaway. And not one of those giveaways to get more followers, ad revenue (she doesn’t have ads) or for any sort of charitable cause. She’s doing it because she got drunk at a PTA fundraiser (that sentence alone makes me laugh until I pee a little) and bid for a bunch of crap she didn’t remember afterwards and now has stuff she doesn’t need. She’s giving away the stuff, but in order to enter, you have to write a haiku. Who thinks of this crap? Geniuses do. I deeply respect anyone that does ANYTHING just for their own entertainment. Not the, “follow my blog and then I’ll follow yours and we can hold hands and brush each other’s hair and hug and jump” that I’ve employed in an effort to get people to read what I write.
Because I actually DO care that people read. Because it IS a little bit like crack when you comment. When my little stat ticker goes higher than it has before. In the last three months, I’ve tripled my daily viewers. I’m pretty sure it’s mostly because Sunday pimped me out on her blog, but I’d like to believe it’s because what I say matters. Or doesn’t matter, and at least makes you laugh from time to time.
Or feel just a little bit better about the manner in which you live your life. You shower at least every other day, yes? Good for you.
Either way, I love to write. Love it. It’s a great outlet for me. But I’m so freaking self-serving, that the only thing that motivates me to write is that people actually read. I wish I was Jillsmo. She writes because she’s awesome at it and funny and she’s the honey badger.
READ THIS FOR A SUMMARY:
Hi. I’m Lexi. I’m passive-aggressive, sleep-deprived, trying to be co-dependent while at the same time narcissistic, and I smell and frequently forget to shave the inner part of my right leg. I’m listed under “Special Needs Blogs” because I have an eight-year-old son with autism and an almost-two-year-old daughter with Down syndrome. But this blog has multiple personalities. I can’t figure it out. Some days I’m only an autism blog. Other days it’s Down syndrome. Other days it’s the rants of an angrybatshitcrazy mother. Oh, and despite all of this swearing, I’m a good and faithful Mormon. Okay, faithful. I’m also into politics, but I don’t touch on those much here because I’m afraid of the phone call I’d get from my sister. Going to hell and whatnot in so many dimensions. I also really like crafts, but as of late, only do ones that I think are hilarious and then never send them to the places I intend. Like cross-stitching with swears and gangsta rap.
Here’s a picture I drew a long time ago of my family. If I were to draw it again, Casey would be almost as tall as Lance. He’s a moose. Peyton is still quite angry.
Here’s a picture the Lord drew of my family:
and here are my thoughts on hell (and, as always, linking up with Adventures in Extreme Parenthood though this might not quite fit as a “Special Needs” Ryan Gosling meme. Dammit. I just realized that. Oh well, too late now.):