Well, here it goes. I am relatively new to this stuff (ok, I'm a blogging virgin)..., so let's see how much trouble I can get myself into. I will probably end up owning ocean-front property in Nebraska, but hey, aren't the best lessons those learned through trial and error? Speaking of error,... when I was applying to Adsense, it asks me to type my name as it appears on my banking account. So I did. It then tells me: "Those characters aren't allowed" What??!!?! I'm not allowed??! A virtual bouncer tried to restrict me from my own blogging site! That was crazy. As it turns out, I was not allowed to use the period after my middle initial, you know, as we are taught to do since elementary school. Those rules are all out the door now. So, I changed my name, and the bouncer let me in, and now here I am. Here for your amusement. -Or abuse. Whichever the case.
Now, I suppose the curtious thing to do would be to introduce myself, and what I plan to blog about. My name is Jobe Juan Canobie. Of course that is just my pseudonym. I guess I am unsure if you are supposed to reveal your real self on these or not. I'm going with "not" for now. I may get brave after a while and let you know my true identity. But for now, you may know that I am a divorced mother of three. I have a graduate degree, and work full time at a real job, behind a real desk, talking to real people, about real problems. ...as opposed to those people who have fake jobs, sitting behind fake desks, having fake conversations with fake people I guess. Actors come to mind... but I digress.
Most days I get up at 5:30, check my e-mail to see what nasty bills are due (which I will pay with the fake money in my banking account under a name that is not allowed), then I log into eharmony to see if my Prince Charming/soulmate has been matched to me yet. After viewing profiles of narcissistic germaphobes or some guy named Wilbur who has a wad of skoal 'tween his cheek and gum, I turn off the 'puter and get down to the business of my morning hygiene routine. Now I know this is more than what you all care to hear, but I really must tout my daily moisterizing foaming face wash with microderm abrasion beads and sea salts. That is the best stuff evaaaaaaa! My pores are so clean I don't think even my great grandchildren will have acne poblems. Ok, out of the shower, and now on to the dreaded closet. I say dreaded closet, because every week for the past several weeks now, someone has been turning up the heat in my closet and shrinking my clothes. What was once loose and comfortable, now gives me "camel-toe" at my armpits. This, of course, has nothing to do with my real job, sitting at a real desk, drinking real soda's and eating real snacks ALL DAY LONG. Ok, so now I've painted on some clothing. Off to the office for 8.5 hours minus my hour lunchbreak, two 15 minutes breaks, 12 bathroom breaks compliments of the Herculean amounts of soda I consume, 9 daydreams, "collateral contacts" with other agencies, and then of course the actual 26 minutes I spend doing my actual work. Whew! I'm exhausted. Now I go collect two children from the elementary school (sometimes they are mine, other times they are just random kids who venture too close to my van and I just snatch them up thinking they are mine. I find they are too traumatized when I unload them, so they just numbly "play along" that they are mine). Oops, forgot one at daycare. Now, THAT ONE I am not 100% convinced is mine. That one loves tractors. I don't know where this would come from. We have never lived on a farm or around tractors. That's all he talks about. TRACTORS. We call him Rainman. Maybe more about him in another post someday. Ok, home from work, daycare and school. Now the chaos begins. I have three hours in which I need to prepare a meal, poke it into their cute, mooshy little faces, clean up after dinner, help them with homework, turn on the "John Deere Action" movie for Rainman, bathe them and then tuck them into bed for the night.
Then I return to my eHarmony profile to see if Prince Charming has found me yet, shuffle my status on Facebook, tune in for the 11:00 episode of Nancy Grace so I can hear what the "bombshells" are for tonight, and then off to bed for my 5-hour nap. Lather, rinse, repeat...
Well, that's me, and that's my daily life, and I guess I'll blog-off now. I'm just certain my soulmate is waiting for me on eHarmony right this very instant. Until my next blah, blah, blog... g'night.
Now, I suppose the curtious thing to do would be to introduce myself, and what I plan to blog about. My name is Jobe Juan Canobie. Of course that is just my pseudonym. I guess I am unsure if you are supposed to reveal your real self on these or not. I'm going with "not" for now. I may get brave after a while and let you know my true identity. But for now, you may know that I am a divorced mother of three. I have a graduate degree, and work full time at a real job, behind a real desk, talking to real people, about real problems. ...as opposed to those people who have fake jobs, sitting behind fake desks, having fake conversations with fake people I guess. Actors come to mind... but I digress.
Most days I get up at 5:30, check my e-mail to see what nasty bills are due (which I will pay with the fake money in my banking account under a name that is not allowed), then I log into eharmony to see if my Prince Charming/soulmate has been matched to me yet. After viewing profiles of narcissistic germaphobes or some guy named Wilbur who has a wad of skoal 'tween his cheek and gum, I turn off the 'puter and get down to the business of my morning hygiene routine. Now I know this is more than what you all care to hear, but I really must tout my daily moisterizing foaming face wash with microderm abrasion beads and sea salts. That is the best stuff evaaaaaaa! My pores are so clean I don't think even my great grandchildren will have acne poblems. Ok, out of the shower, and now on to the dreaded closet. I say dreaded closet, because every week for the past several weeks now, someone has been turning up the heat in my closet and shrinking my clothes. What was once loose and comfortable, now gives me "camel-toe" at my armpits. This, of course, has nothing to do with my real job, sitting at a real desk, drinking real soda's and eating real snacks ALL DAY LONG. Ok, so now I've painted on some clothing. Off to the office for 8.5 hours minus my hour lunchbreak, two 15 minutes breaks, 12 bathroom breaks compliments of the Herculean amounts of soda I consume, 9 daydreams, "collateral contacts" with other agencies, and then of course the actual 26 minutes I spend doing my actual work. Whew! I'm exhausted. Now I go collect two children from the elementary school (sometimes they are mine, other times they are just random kids who venture too close to my van and I just snatch them up thinking they are mine. I find they are too traumatized when I unload them, so they just numbly "play along" that they are mine). Oops, forgot one at daycare. Now, THAT ONE I am not 100% convinced is mine. That one loves tractors. I don't know where this would come from. We have never lived on a farm or around tractors. That's all he talks about. TRACTORS. We call him Rainman. Maybe more about him in another post someday. Ok, home from work, daycare and school. Now the chaos begins. I have three hours in which I need to prepare a meal, poke it into their cute, mooshy little faces, clean up after dinner, help them with homework, turn on the "John Deere Action" movie for Rainman, bathe them and then tuck them into bed for the night.
Then I return to my eHarmony profile to see if Prince Charming has found me yet, shuffle my status on Facebook, tune in for the 11:00 episode of Nancy Grace so I can hear what the "bombshells" are for tonight, and then off to bed for my 5-hour nap. Lather, rinse, repeat...
Well, that's me, and that's my daily life, and I guess I'll blog-off now. I'm just certain my soulmate is waiting for me on eHarmony right this very instant. Until my next blah, blah, blog... g'night.
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