NaBloPoMo Wrap-up

In November, I vowed to blog daily. I found that I had plenty to say, each and every day-so big surprise to those who know me, or read me, or both. But sometimes, blogging can feel like a chore, which defeated the purpose of using it as an outlet for stress, yafeelme? As Sky King would say, "Ya know, this daily blogging thing seems to be stressing you out, are you sure it's a good ideas?" to which I eloquently responded either with a middle finger complete with fancy nails, or a "Mind your own fucking business, thankyouverymuch".
But truly, I enjoyed it. I worked on some ideas I had been thinking of. Some stories that had been brewing. I got away from some of my health stuff which gets old, but still managed to intertwine my crazy usual life with some health stuff.  The point(s) of my blog has always been to be an outlet for me, hope to others who suffer, and possible hilarity for common- and not-so-common-folk. With of course the bonus of becoming ridiculously famous and wealthy, all as an "unexpected bonus"-which is hard to do when you expect it to happen. But I have mental health issues, so it's okay to be ironic, non ironically.

Did I achieve my goals? Well, I think I missed a day, while off traipsing around, running down slutty bitches at amusement parks.  I was busy making shit happen, people. I bet that stupid bitch won't push ahead of someone else on a mobility scooter any time soon.  Nor will her slutty mom. You're welcome, people with handicaps. Or people who are handi-capable. I don't know, I'm new to the lingo. And I guess I can't really call them "my people" with much confidence, you know, since I don't get the awesome parking.  But whatevs.

The post I missed was for the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week, and I had a Tuesday Tutorial about making a centerpiece with old mason jars, raffia, and buttons. And lots of glue. And ointment, for the burns. Hot glue is a tricky bitch.  But the photos look lame, and frankly, the craft was okay. Not spectacular, so maybe my subconscious saved me, by making me forget, thus NOT getting onto some crafter's blog that would mock me mercilessly, thus sending me into a deep depression in which I take out throngs of teens hanging out at a mall like emo bowling pins, all with my mom's scooter. I'm sure there is a blog that makes fun of crappy crafts, not Regretsy, but something where people just mock crafts, not crafts for sale.

OK, now I feel super bad. I missed like 4 days. But, I did days when I had more than one post. So does that even out? I dunno, and I don't math too good, so I will just close by saying, well, I hope you liked what I wrote, I hope it makes me rich, and I hope I get better at Thanksgiving centerpieces.

Peace out, my homies

#NaBloPoMo Last Supper

:::Epilogue for the Month of November:::

In an effort to promote blogging and writing in general, November is National Blog Posting Month.  The thing is, bloggers should post one post each day, for the entire month of November.  If we can't come up with something, there is a writing prompt, a sort of "topic of the day" if you will, to get the creative juices flowing.

Originally, I was planning to apologize for having strange, off-topic posts this month.  Then I realized that is one of the things I already have going for me-off-topic strange posts is like my signature move.  So, I will instead apologize for posting so much, you are unable to keep up.  If you wish to ignore my NaBloPoMo posts that are writing prompts, you can do so by ignoring any posts with that strange word in the title.  however, each post, regardless of the reason for the post, will be classic Aimee-strange, odd, possibly littered with profanities.

If I knew whatever I ate next would be my last meal:

Well, I assume that I would be dying, rather than converting to some system where I no longer need/can have food.  Otherwise, my choice might be different.  For instance, if I was moving to a feeding tube, I might choose something crunchy. Or, I might choose something fairly healthy, because maybe the feeding tube is because of some horrifying accident in which my son smashed open a pressurized can and the shrapnel cut my throat, severing something important that prevents me from getting nourishment via mouth. I would say something smart like "severed my esophageal sphincter" but I have no idea what it does, or even how to spell it.

Where was I?

Last meal-dying. Got it.

I am again making assumptions. I am cheating on my diet, and including all the foods I no longer eat, but wish I could.

1st Course:
Max's Opera Cafe' Fantasy Torte (I know this is a dessert, but if I'm dying, I want to make sure I get the best stuff in. I will save a couple bites for the "last-taste-in-the-mouth". I know you know what I'm talking about....
Here is a photo, grabbed from the interwebs...

What you see above is a dense chocolate cake layer, followed by a layer of chocolate mousse, then a lemon-y cheesecake layer on top, all covered by a sinful chocolate ganache.  :::insert Homer drool:::

2nd Course:
I would have to say artichoke-spinach dip, with pita chips. not the ones that are super thick, though.  just thick enough to not break when I scoop up a mound of yumminess.

3rd Course:
My mom's homemade chicken nuggets she would make when I was little. With ranch made from the Hidden Valley packet in an old mayonnaise jar. Side dishes would be bacon mac 'n cheese and french fries from Nation's.

Of course, I would end the meal with a couple saved bites of the fantasy torte, because if there's one thing I've learned in almost 30 years of PMS, What starts with chocolate should end with chocolate.

Now excuse me while I clean up the drool on my keyboard...