Walking our dog Jake the other day at a Kirkland park and happened upon this sign. Cute, don’t you think?
Walking our dog Jake the other day at a Kirkland park and happened upon this sign. Cute, don’t you think?
Have you ever driven down the road in your car and all of a sudden you notice a certain smell? I know what you’re thinking: Perhaps you are driving through farm country, notice that unmistakable manure aroma, and then blame the smell on your loved one riding shotgun, as in “oh, honey!”?
No, as hilarious as that sounds, (and I am guffawing all over myself right now), that is NOT what I meant. What I mean is something that smells electrical. You all know what I’m talking about: Something electrical is burning and that usually is not good. Just like when you notice things sparking and smoking out of a wall socket. Not good. Not good at all.
This of course is all metaphor. Surprise, surprise. Would you expect anything else from me? (Assuming you have been following along.) Just to make it really clear, I titled this post “Why My Head Hurts”. Subtle, don’t you think?
You may ask me, “Hey, Kelly. Why does your head hurt? Have you not had enough coffee?” And this is a valid question, given my prediliction for caffeine overkill. No, believe you me, I have tried coffee. My head hurts because I am trying to cram in a large amount of information in a small amount of time. This Music Success in Nine Weeks stuff is a crash course.
I am right in the middle of Week 5 learning about all the benefits of being a blogging maniac. I can now add blogs, blog readers, aggregators, and all of its other related web thingies onto the pile of all the other wonderful Web 2.0 gizmos and thingamajiggets.
I decided that at the mid-point of this frenetic pace, it might help if I diagrammed all of the interweb doohickies and fumbuzzles that represent my current web empire. I did this on a nice little whiteboard and then captured it on my smartphone. Is not technology simply amazing? As you muse upon my diagram, perhaps you will get an idea of why my head hurts. Look at all the stuff I have to keep track of!
Don’t get me wrong. I am SO not complaining. Now that the synapsies are starting to get all hooked together, I have a few salient points to make:
Enough salient points for now. (What does “salient” mean, anyway? I think it sounds cool and articulate.)
So, now that I have at least made a diagram of all the fiefs in my kingdom, I understand why I’m smelling something electrical burning. But, strangely enough, my head hurts less now that I can visualize it better. I’m getting a clearer picture of all the things I need to do and keep track of in order to build my business. Just gotta do it. Get ‘er done.
In a desire to help others on the journey, I have made a partial list of what sorts of things need to be set up. This is review material for those going through the book, but it might be good to look at it all in one place:
This is a lot to do, each service requiring its own account setup, and I haven’t even mentioned making time for making music. So, the journey continues. Even with the occasional electrical and farm animal smells…
My wife recently bought me this wonderful book: “What’s Your Poo Telling You?” It’s a very humorous yet informative book about your No. 2, specifically about how to assess, from a health perspective, the business you just finished. Here I quote the first paragraph from the Introduction:
Not unlike a snowflake, each bowel movement has a uniqueness that should be regarded with wondrous appreciation. Too often dismissed as useless and malodorous waste, poo has struggled since the dawn of time to receive the respect it deserves.
Perhaps you have read this far and have decided, “Enough with this blog!” If so, you have my empathy and support. On the other hand, if you find this subject to be a limitless supply of fascination and humor, you simply need to get a copy of the book. It catalogues the different types of bowel movements and what they signify in terms of your nutrition and health. Here is a picture of the cover:
Although my wife bought my copy in a store, I looked it up on the internet and found it on places like Amazon and Google. Apparently, the book has been successful, since now there are companion titles such as, “What’s My Pee Telling Me?”, “What’s Your Poo Telling You? 2011 Daily Calendar”, and finally, “Poo Log” which aside from the play on words is probably some sort of journal.
Here is the description of Poo Log: “Finally, what every bathroom has been waiting for the Poo Log, a journal for recording and studying the wondrous uniqueness of each bowel movement. With an extensive glossary, handy reference checklists, interesting nuggets throughout, this journal makes every trip to the can an e-loo-cidating experience. Who knew one could learn so much from poo?” What is somewhat disturbing is that you can get used copies of this book off Amazon Marketplace. I shudder at what the full implication of “used” entails. Is it like purchasing a used textbook where it may have “marks”? I am tempted to buy a used copy just to get to the bottom of it.
Although I could go on, my hand is still hurting me and I need to get off the computer. So I close with the following question: Is there a difference in meaning between the words “poo” and “poop”? Or do they mean the same thing? Or is former the noun and the latter a verb? I tend to use the term “poop” for either. Perhaps this is a Canada vs. USA thing–the book comes from Canada.
Does anyone have any suggestions?
This is too funny… I was just looking at my stats, and apparently “Getting Off the Pot” is still getting a lot of views*, I guess poop continues to be a popular subject. But what really caught my attention was the part I highlighted below. It shows what the top search expressions on my blog are. Clearly it is not accurate but most likely a glitch of the statistics program. Did someone really type in the search expression “kelly must die”?
Do I need to go into witness protection?
* I guess if you could call 8 views “a lot”. LOL!!
I looked at my stats today. By “stats” I am referring to the number of times people have visited my blog page.
I noticed that my stats took quite a jump yesterday. I would take this to mean that people are fascinated with poop, since that turned out to be a major subject of my post. Believe it or not, I didn’t really intend for the post to be about poop, it just naturally went that way. It must have been on my mind. How unusual.
I used the word “fascinated” deliberately in the last paragraph as that word can have many meanings. I just looked it up in Webster and it defines “fascinated” as “to transfix and hold spellbound by an irresistible power”. I figure that people are fascinated by things that they are very interested in, and also by things they are shocked and horrified by. Such as when people gawk at the scene of an accident, they are fascinated by it.
This makes me wonder if you, dear reader, are held spellbound by the subject of poop, or are horrified by it. I actually have some useful things to write about on this blog, for instance, my trip to Ecuador. So perhaps I need to do us all a favor and go on a poop hiatus. At least from a blogging standpoint.
Ouch! I still went past 200 words. Well, I have a phone call to make so I need to run.
So perhaps you are intrigued by my title. No, I don’t smoke the wacky tobacky. I am referring to the fact that I haven’t blogged since I got back from Ecuador.
And I feel bad about it.
Sort of like when you haven’t called a close relative for a while. Weeks go by and then you get the dreaded phone message: “Hi, just wondering if you still walked the earth” or something equally shamecastic. Once you realize you’re in trouble, it makes you even less motivated to call. You know you are probably going to get an earful.
So, here I am, getting off the pot… or am I pooping? I am not sure how the metaphor applies. Perhaps because I am writing this blog, I am now pooping instead of getting off the pot. I’m confused. But at the very least I was able to work poop into my blog, so I have something to feel good about. Sort of like after… oh, nevermind…
They (whoever “they” are… the blog experts, I suppose) say that you shouldn’t write posts that have more than 200 words. WordPress even provides a handy little status bar letting me know how many words I have typed. I’m now over the limit. And I’ve said very little other than refer to shame and poop.
Speaking of, have you ever noticed when you’re at the office building, you’re walking down the hall and a co-worker emerges from the restroom. They usually have this embarrassed look on their face, as if to say, “Yep, you caught me. I was going to the bathroom.” For some inexplicable reason, it embarrasses them to know that you know what they were doing. Like, doesn’t everybody have to do that at some point or other? Like several times a day? Maybe it’s just a guy thing. Ladies, please put in your two cents.
Perhaps it seems rather incongruous that while they may project godlike hubris in the conference room as they endeavor to build their empire, guess what, they have to go number onesies and twosies just like the rest of the mere mortals down here. How humiliating!
Here’s a thought: Have a little fun. Next time you see a high-powered VP/Director/GM come out of the john give them a little wink as if to say “I know what you were doing!”. It would also probably be a good idea to have your resume updated and your exit strategy in place.
Okay, I’m pushing 400 words. Now I am in serious trouble.
I was just taking our dogs for a walk. It is an absolute must for all of us when it’s a nice day out. I have been sitting most of the day and the dogs have been sleeping out back. Without the walk I would get rather cranky and they would get obnoxious which would make me more cranky. And no one likes cranky. A definite lose-lose for everyone.
So anyhoo, I’m walking the dogs and it occurs to me that inside my head, sometimes I feel like a 20-year old. I remember my dad saying to me one time that he feels like he’s still 20 and I know exactly what he means. I’m obviously not 20 anymore. Perhaps you could say that I am a 20-year old trapped inside a middle-aged body. But I would rather use a more gracious metaphor. Not being able to stay in a 20-year body, which would defy the laws of nature, I am being hosted by a middle-aged body. As if this 20-year old mind is staying at a rather run down hotel that will never have a renovation budget.
My mind still brims with endless possibilities, just like most 20-year olds. However, I am aware that I weigh about 60 pounds more than I did when I was 20. Most people would not say that I look overweight. At least to my face, that is. It’s just that 20-year olds are really really really skinny. Most of them have not fully grown into their bodies yet, and that was definitely the case for me. Nowadays, yes, I have definitely grown, or overgrown, into my body. The metabolism just aint what it used to be.
For instance, I can’t look at a bag of chips without gaining five pounds. Now to be fair, I really can’t just look at a bag of chips without eating the bag of chips, so this looking without eating thing is very hypothetical. You probably know what I mean. I should endeavor to not even think about a bag of chips. Oops…too late.
Being a male, there is, of course, a part of me that still thinks he’s 13. I mean, what male on this planet doesn’t still think that farts and poop, as well as jokes about farts and poop, are funny? Women may also find limited humor in such bodily events, but they are more selective about it. For example, any references to farts or poop while in the proximity of food is generally frowned upon by the fairer sex. This doesn’t seem to slow us men down at all.
However, I must say that while walking the dogs today, they seemed to be real interested in a particular patch of yard. I wasn’t paying attention since I was already working on this blog post in my 20-year old mind. But once I went to investigate, I noticed that they were eating poo! And not just tootsie rolls (a popular slang for cat poop), but something much larger. I was totally grossed out by this, and have now banished them to our mole-infested backyard to let them think about what they did.
So totally gag me gross!! I guess even us men have limits. If you are one of the 37 men on this planet that think farts and poop are totally disgusting, please leave a comment. I like to think that I have an open mind so will gladly hear what you have to say.