Lately I have felt like the momentum of this blog has really taken a nose dive. So I was surprised to see that there are 500 of you reading this blog each week. Who are all of you people? Is it you, God?
There are a handful of new commenters around these here parts, and I'd like officially welcome you. Hi. Come on in. Watch out for that part of the rug... that's Luke's "pee spot." Yeah, you're going to want to leave your shoes on. Can I get you something to drink? Did you have anything to eat? I could whip you up a grilled cheese. Just say the word. It will only take five minutes. So don't worry about it. It's no trouble at all. Oh, I love your hair! Are you sure you don't want something to drink? I'm going to have something to drink. Do you like red or white wine? Oh, no... it's not to early to start drinking. It's almost 10 a.m.!
If you are just tuning in, there are a few things you should know in order to truly appreciate Cusp of Normal:
I am an apple-bobbing champion.
My fiance has many alter-egos. One of which resembles Popeye.
Sometimes I look like a creature.
My guilty pleasures include eating greasy fish soaked in malt vinegar at Long John Silver's, cutting coupons and forgetting to use them at the checkout, torturing Andrew with my mix CDs from my music pirating years at college (if you can't appreciate Dashboard Confessional's "Vindicated" from the Spiderman Soundtrack, just leave... NOW!), delighting in the piles of dust, dirt, and doghair I sweep up from the floor each week--carrying my full dustpan around like it is a trophy, and eating my weight in salt.
Tell me a little about you. ESPECIALLY you little creeps who read my blog and refuse to join in the fun via commenting. Who are you?! Were you allowed to watch 90210 in the early 90s? I wasn't. I wasn't even allowed to have the 90210 bedding from Kmart. My mom was very strict about that. Even though I told her it wasn't like Brenda and Dylan were going to pop out of the comforter and do scenes from the show in my bedroom. (But that would have been pretty cool, right?) Though one time I did bring home from a bookfair one of those doorknob hanger things that say something like "STAY OUT!" or "The princess is in" but this one in particular just had a picture of Dylan and Luke looking all fly and stuff. (*EDIT: I just realized Dylan = Luke. I meant to say Brandon and Dylan. Now you can see I was not bluffing about not being allowed to watch them. Though I do admit to watching it a few times at my friend's house. Man did I feel uncool back then. So out of the loop. What the heck is a Peach Pit?) My mom was not happy about that. Yet this is the same woman who raised me to watch The Young and the Restless and Ricki Lake. I don't get you, mom. But I love you. You nut.
Sorry, where were we? Oh, yes. You. Tell me about you. Delurk, if you will. I promise I won't bite. Okay, that's not entirely true. I can never promise that.