And here’s where we BRING IT.

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Gentle Readers…

After much pressure, here is my blog.  I’m going to try to keep it funny.  Due to my line of work (secret spy and rabble rouser to try to get LifeSavers to go back to their real flavors…)  (and bring back Butter Rum) I’m blogging anonymously.  I assure you, this is not so I can be some kind of different person online.  Those who know me (and basically, let’s face it, the only people who stuck around to this part do know me) know that I am WAY too simple to have a multi-faceted personality.  You are getting the real me.  Honest.  And I think that’s enough in the way of introductions.  If I can figure things out, I’ll add a cast of characters to this blog-like by one of those links within the page or on the side bar.  Or maybe one of my esteemed circle of trust can show me.

But since it’s 1:04 AM, and the Mac has done a FANTASTIC job of lengthening battery life, and this post probably should have some kind of purpose, I think I’ll tell you how it got its name.  (Please allow me to pretend that the reason I am doing this at 1:04 on a Saturday morning is that my social calendar has been so full lately that I had to stay in for a weekend or else face the dramatic fate of some young Disney Channel poptart.)  (Credit-Cynthia for that label!)

So I have a HUGE family on the paternal side.  (I have a medium size immediate family on the maternal side, but seriously, the paternal side?  We need our own Compound in Hyannis Port.)  (Not a one of us has been under suspicion of murder or other acts of moral turpitude, however.)  And last weekend, one of my cousins got married.  (Side note:  O, welcome.  And just in case I haven’t told you, Daddy has liked you A LOT from the get-go.  He told me that you and your now-bride gave him a ride to the airport after a day trip down to Houston, and when he walked in the back door, he said, immediately, “I just got a ride to the airport from A and her boyfriend, O.  And I REALLY LIKE him.  He’s a GOOD GUY.”  Okay, I lied.  Immediately the Labradors went all bananas on him, and after he didn’t trip all over them, then he said that.  But really, he’s never said that about any of my boyfriends so frankly, you’re ahead of the curve.)  Traditionally, all of the cousins go out drinking the night before the ceremony (because nothing is more entertaining that sitting in church while hung over), and then there’s the wedding, and then the reception and usually by that point, our livers are shutting down in protest, so we all head back to our respective hotel rooms to sleep it off.  This time, however, the clan decided to keep the party going in my Uncle D’s hotel room.  (What?  You’ve never hosted a smashing soiree in room 401 of the Hilton Garden Inn using hotel ice and coffee cups?)  At this point, I was already in bed, snuggled up with Angry Birds, and falling asleep in the middle of the rounds.  (Or should I say “round” because I’m not yet to the point where I advance to the next round.)  My cousin E sends me a text, “come party with us in dad’s room”.  To which I reply, “I’m in bed, snuggled up with Angry Birds, and fading fast.”  E responds with, “It’s just family, nobody else [ed. note:  would the fire code permit any more people in the room than “just family”?] so come in your jammies.”  I respond back with, “I have no feeling in my toes and I need.  To.  Go.  To.  Bed.”  Getting old is awful.

And then I fell asleep.  The next morning, I rode down the elevator with Uncle D, who informed me that my cousin Andy (who doesn’t get an initial simply because there are too many As in our Family.  Same with Ls.  Plus, he deserves it.) upon hearing of my reticence, did not believe it was me, because “there aren’t enough words for it to be [my name]”.  At that point, Aunt E (Cousin E’s mom) says that she hears I send really funny emails and to please add them to my email rotation.  At that point, it just made more sense to blog about my absurd existence than update people in email format.

And thus, this blog is born.  Sometimes, four hundred and twenty characters just isn’t enough.  (It really ought to be.  But I have a lot that I want to say.)  (Andy, is this enough words for you?)

And I hear that to blog without a photo is just a total faux pas (like wearing white to a wedding, unless you are the bride, or seersucker if you are over four) here is a picture of the Labradors on their first morning with us.

The Last Time They Were Concurrently Asleep.

And with that, gentle readers, I am going to drift off to sleep with some Angry Birds (perhaps this is why I never do very well?  I play before I fall asleep?)

Goodnight,

Wordie

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