a pathetic little blog
I am trying really hard to be an anonymous blogger and fight the feeling to reveal my identity all the time. Like I’m that important. Oh okay I can only handle so much pressure, my name is Saffron Busby-Warrington. I’m an agent from Her Majesty’s Secret Service sent to America for a “rest” after a certain tunnel chase went bad in ’97. In a few seconds your computer screen will put you to sleep. Forever. It’s what we do after we surrender our cover.
I try to keep anonymous because I’ve been burned on the internet by posting personal information before. And by burned I mean my sisters totally kicked my ass and my dad yelled at me for posting family information here. Burned, I told you. And there was that time I was a advocating against circumcision and found my husband’s head shot (no pun intended, wait for it…) Photoshopped onto a glans of a penis. I took that as a warning. So the keeping mum on my identity keeps embarrassing penis jokes at bay at the same time it affords me the luxury of blogging the family because if you don’t know me, you don’t know them either. At least for today. Did I digress OR WHAT?
The first thing you need to know about me: I exaggerate in the spirit of a good story. Ask my youngest sister and she will tell you that is a constant source of aggravation for her. She will also tell she HATES it when I cut in on her karaoke songs, even if it is just to be her back up singer and dancer. And she will not hesitate to dust off the email program to fire off hate mail if she detects anything remotely resembling her life on the blog. True dat!
My younger sister (get it? she is younger, but the other is youngest) will tell you she will not hesitate to pick up the closest vacuum and hurl it like a spear at me if I so much as look at her cross-eyed. I dared once to piss her off and next thing I know, a Hoover is sailing my way. She is one tough mo-fo in disguise as an unassuming play-group leader. I know she will tell you I’m aloof and it drives her to the brink of insanity. I have no idea what she is talking about.
My husband will tell you I need to relax and just trust him. That it’s all in how I comb my hair and once I get those few things down, my life will fall into place. That it hasn’t yet will teach you that I haven’t relaxed or trusted him with reckless abandon yet. Since I constantly change my hairdo, I don’t how the last bit of advice is ever going to work out. He will also tell you that he thinks I should’ve been blogging for years. Well I was, but didn’t know it. I have the disks with old website diaries to prove it. If I could find them, that is.
My four kids will tell you that I do too much “work” on my computer and don’t play enough with them, even though that is just a rouse to get off the computer long enough for them to log onto lego.com or barbie.com. They will tell you that I make the best food for whatever day it happens to be, but tell me the next time I make it they hated it that one time.
My mom will tell you that she remembers vividly that time I tried to kill her with the headboard when I was two. And the time I tried to commit suicide by sailing out a 3rd story window also when I was two. That will remind her of the time I took some “pills and booze” also around age 2. Forget about all those mothers who kill their toddlers before killing themselves. I was ahead of my time, but just didn’t get the whole murder-suicide concept yet and certainly didn’t have the correct tools. By now she’s forgotten all of that and will tell you she likes me just fine in spite of my repeated attempts on her life and mine over the years. You can read (and listen) about her recently found documentation of my earliest attempt to kill her by way of cannibalism here.
My dad will tell you that I drive him up a wall with my infrequent calls to him. He doesn’t quite get the whole email-as-communication thing yet because as far as he’s been informed, email is for sending chain letters and hoaxes, there is no time for conversations when life is moving at the speed of the Information Superhighway, people! And forget about a blog, that is enough to make his head explode. Can I reveal he keeps his browser bookmarks on sticky notes stuck to his computer screen? But my dad will also tell you he looks forward to the day when he can buy a small ranch and remodel it into a family compound so I never have to leave his sight again.
My friends will tell you that I am loyal and idealistic. They’ll probably tell you I am funny and fun to be with though a tad dramatic. They’ll tell you they like that just fine and that drama can be a good source of entertainment.
I will tell you that I’ve never left the house without rushing back in to change my shirt or my pants or my skirt or my shoes because I’ve miscalculated my comfort, the occasion or the weather. I have never left the house without lipstick applied and to leave my make-up bag in the car constitutes a near-emergency situation. I have been known to apply MAC Spice lip liner and Lust Lip Glass at 0300 speeding my way to the birth of a baby. I don’t care what you think, babies appreciate it.
I will also share that I hate making lists and therefore forget a lot of things that most people would like to have written down. I also hate the Indigo Girls as a rule. My friend Lynn loved them and knew I hated them. She died in 2004 and makes a point of putting them on the radio station whenever I get in the car. I hate exercising but am trying very hard to change that way of thinking in order to lose some weight so I can look hot for my 40 year high school reunion in 20 years.
I think that covers it. Oh I think I should warn you that I obsess over WordPress Themes and change them frequently. I don’t know which one you’re seeing today. Do me a favor and don’t tell me your opinion on it. It’s like a trigger or something.
This page is about Me.
This page is about "frectis".
This is my email address: firstname.lastname@example.org. Write to me. So I can feel like one of those popular bloggers.