Hello world! Blogdramedy here reporting somewhat alive, like the walking dead, from a really grotty dive motel in downtown Cleveland. After a week here with staff, I can tell you…the place stinks!
Kind of like 2016, which I now refer to as the year that smelled like butt.
Where should I begin? To tell the story of how crap a year can be? (Is anyone getting the musical reference?) I could go minimal and just say a whole lot of really nice people bought a one-way ticket to the after life this past year. Carrie Fisher I’ll always remember whenever I pick up a post card…especially if I’m feeling on edge. Debbie Reynolds is now singing in the rain daily only I don’t think it ever rains in heaven. And George Michaels…talk about wham, bam, thank you ma’am. And that’s just over the holidays! To everyone we’ve loved and lost in 2016, here’s hoping you’re up there, pointing fingers and having a good laugh.
America voted in Donald Trump to be their next president. YES! No lie, I swear to god, no lie. Looks like half the population lost their minds at the same time and decided having a pussy grabber as president was just the remedy for what’s wrong with America. But don’t worry, folks! The Donald thinks he can put in the fix because he figured out Twitter. Got a problem? Send him a tweet! He’ll tweet what he thinks should happen, he’ll ignore all the tweets from people who are like, smart, telling him why what he thinks would work, won’t. Then he’ll forget why he tweeted what he tweeted and try to delete it but by then the New York Times will have found the tweet and retweeted it and Donald will spend the rest of the day raging at the media for calling him on his bullshit. Which, if you think about it, is a good thing. If he keeps himself distracted with Twitter, maybe he won’t have time to SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT.
I just realized that 2017 will be the year of the rooster. How very appropriate, considering.
But enough about the man from orange county. The Donald is boring and predictable and kinda gross and he makes my skin crawl. I’m just happy my audition for “The Apprentice” wasn’t dumbed down enough for the producers. Yeah me!
There’s a lot of ground to cover, covering the whatsup of 2016. The planet is hotter. Political discourse is on a teeter-totter. Xenophobia replicated like a nasty strain of flu. Russia is now roman…all over everyone else’s business. China is chillin’ on the sidelines, counting their good fortune that the world is droning on about Trump. The European Union has yet to decide on how to define “union” and the Middle East still can’t find the middle ground on pretty much anything. The entire planet is going through a massive collective whoops-a-daisy.
And what the fuck is up with North Carolina, the state with bathroom-gate. Imagine your elected officials spending the majority of 2016 trying to decide who can pee where. Personally, I don’t care who pees where as long as their aim is true.
Any day now I’m hoping for first contact, where the founding aliens arrive offering first-class tickets for some off-planet travel. Excuse me while I pack a bag.
As I tuck in clean underwear, I’m looking around this motel room and wondering about the people I work with at The Nudge Wink Report. You think you know people, that you’ve got a handle on all their quirks and foibles, and then you live with them for a week and your world is rocked.
Floridaborne ignored the “no pets” rule by bringing her furry friends along and I’m finding little hidden “gifts” tucked into places they shouldn’t be tucked. Floridaborne lives in Florida (no shit Sherlock!) and if you’ve read her blog, you know she suffers from insomnia and doesn’t know why. Well, I know why so follow the linky link here…she lives in Florida, the VERY SAME STATE Stephen King resides during the winter. He writes horror stories, he wrote “INSOMNIA.” Case closed. You are welcome. I had hoped that spending a week up here in Cleveland, where it’s dark and cold, would put her insomnia to sleep. But I’ve had more than one person tell me they had that creepy crawly feeling all week…they’d wake up feeling like someone was watching them. And she was…but I told them we had mice, just to make them feel better.
Then we have the BritCom duo, Ben and David, who both signed up to be Field Reporters in 2016. They bring a sophisticated spit & polish to NWR, what with their proper use of the English language…which is very proper as they are both British. I don’t know where they live. I suspect it’s over a pub. When they file their copy, I get a faint whiff of hops, which is crazy because Apple has yet to come out with a laptop with an olfactory app. Ben and Dave (they sound like a singing group…or perhaps a flavour of ice cream) offer our readers unique insights into all things British. Now if only they can explain the Brexit dance. Britain put one foot in…to the EU…then put one foot out. Right now I think they’re shaking that foot about and doing some dance called the Hokie-Pokie. Any day now, they’ll turn themselves around. They make us laugh every time they try to pronounce migraine and aluminium. Which we’ve tried to make them do every single day since Christmas.
Looking over in the corner, I spy Dave and Tom fighting over who gets dibs on the last carton of Chinese food. I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s not Chinese food. It’s where Floridaborne stores her dog’s kibble. I doubt they’ll figure it out…unless they run out of soy sauce. Dave and Tom are my longest-running blogging besties. We’ve known each other for years, and they still amuse and disgust me, in equal measure. I am one lucky girl. Whenever it’s their time to post a story to NWR, I turn off my email notification and put my iPhone on silent. Because while I’m unofficially the boss of them here at NWR, I am not officially responsible for what words flow with feverish fluidity from their fingers. And I have an iron-clad contract that says I can put my fingers in my ears and run around shouting “na-na-nana-na.” So don’t hate email me. Send me a text instead and I’ll hook you up with their wives. *wink-wink*
I’ll wrap up this post now by wishing all our readers a 2017 that does not smell of butt. To help, because that’s the kind of bloggers we are, we’re working with WordPress developers on a “fresh linen” scented widget. So not only will every post you read smell good, it will also fool you into thinking you’ve done your laundry.
Happy New Year to everyone we’ve ever meet, anywhere, on this planet or off, in the world, the galaxy, the universe, in the bathroom, on the street, standing in line at A&W, taking out the garbage, when your dog is pooping and you are scooping, in jail, in therapy, or somewhere over the rainbow!