For the past three years, I’ve been posting once a week (give or take), blathering on about the squirrelly things that happen to me. It occurred to me that you, the reader, might have squirrelly moments of your own, and might need an outside perspective to help you make sense of them.
And who better to offer that perspective than me, an expert in all things nutty?
So I’ve decided to start an advice column. I’m calling it: Dear Digby. You tell me what plagues you, and I’ll respond in my usual tongue-in-cheek (but heartfelt) manner. In exchange for this free advice, you’ll be providing me with something to blog about, because at some point the well is going to dry up, and then what will you read?
So here’s the plan…
I want you to mosey on up to the “contact” page, that one on the top bar that nobody except spammers visit, and I want you to write to me about one squirrelly moment. I want you to write to me about the time your kid brother hid your makeup case, or your mother made bean muck for dinner, or your boss snored during your presentation. I want to hear about something nutty that happened to you that made you shake your head in disbelief, or turn red with embarrassment, or laugh with disgust, or order a scotch, neat.
Just a paragraph.
Three lines, maybe.
I’m not asking for 500 words and up like I’ve been churning out week after week after week. Just three little lines.
After all, you haven’t had to do anything for the past three years except read my ramblings. While I, on the other hand, have done the lion’s share of the work: the writing, the rewriting, the endless tweaking.
I’ve done the lion’s share even for readers who aren’t showing up. Okay, technically they’re not really readers, at least not readers of this blog. But the point is, those non-readers who are unaware of my blog aren’t even investing a few brain cells to take notice, so I’m doing all the work for those unappreciative non-readers…millions of them.
Now be honest: would you take a job, do everyone’s work while they sat around drinking cappuccinos at sidewalk cafes, and feel the world is a just and verdant place?
I think not.
So, based on this faulty line of reasoning, I’m sure you’ll agree: it’s time for you, the reader, to put a little more effort into this blog than just snickering behind your hand.
If you feel so compelled (God knows why), tell me what drives you nutty. I’ll offer words of wisdom.
Well, sort of. There are several sub-personalities who rent space in my brain. There’s the Goofy One; the Compassionate One; the Wise One; the Anxious One; the Serious One.
Oh, and the Lazy One.
One of those entities will give you advice. And I’ll post the whole shebang on this site for everyone’s education.
Sound like a deal?
I hope so! This will be fun.
Need an example? Okay. Let’s say you write,
I work eight, ten hours a day standing over a hot stove in an even hotter kitchen, cooking for fifty rowdy college men in a dorm, and when I get home I’m beat. All I want to do is stretch out on the bed and sleep. But my landlady chooses that moment to practice the piano. Christmas carols. Badly. For two hours. I want to drive an icepick through my eyeball. What can I do?
Don’t worry about punctation or grammar. The Persnickety One will correct any outright goofs. If you write,
My coworker scolded me like she was my muther, and my mother doesn’t even talk to me that way. Now I’m simmering. Shuld I say something?
My inner editor will neaten it up so it reads,
Dear Magnificent One,
How can I be as amazing as you?
Got it? Good.
Let’s get started. Click on the “contact” page, and start typing. I’ll be waiting!
Disclaimer: If you’re reading this blog post, you’re under no obligation to write anything. I’m thrilled that you’re reading! Keep it up. And if you’re not reading this blog post, how would you know?
P.S. If I post your question and my answer, it will be tweeted. By millions. Or at least by two. People.
P.S.S. If I don’t post your question, it’s because the Lazy One answered. Meaning: not at all.
P.S.S.S. The Lazy One is too lazy to read your question, so no worries.
PSSSST. If no one takes me up on this offer, I shall be forced to continue blogging about my own nonsense, happily assuming that it is somehow benefitting my precious readers and those millions of non-readers.