A few days or weeks ago, I became the happy recipient of a most prestigious blog award. Happy may be an overstatement. This particular award is the ABC Award and I believe ABC stands for Aardvark Boys Choir or maybe it was Awesome Blog Content. I think it was one of those.
Most or, in my case, all of these awards are earned simply by having your blog read by another blogger who gets the award AND follows the rules so must pass the award along to other bloggers. And you win because the other blogger really digs your stuff and wants to send more readers your way, or they feel sorry for you because you are still struggling to find an audience of more than 3 people, or they only follow 102 blogs and have to pass the award on to 105 other bloggers so they pull your name out of the air. I think it is one of those.
I understand these awards are a great way to gain new readers even though they are a pain in the patookus. I also get why some bloggers ignore every award they receive which leads to my conundrum when I receive awards that have rules about passing the award along. Sometimes I do and mostly I don’t. I just encourage people to check out blogs of the bloggers on my blogroll. Normally, that is excellent advice and I’m not just saying that because it’s me saying that. However, it has been awhile since I’ve updated my blogroll and I really need to do that and will probably do that in the next few days or weeks. Who are we kidding? It will probably be next year – I”m a procrastinator. But keep checking back and soon it will be updated, though by then it will be out of date.
The best part of getting these awards is when a blogger you really admire passes an award along and thats what happened with the Aardvark Boys Choir Award (or maybe it was the other one). That evil stepmom, MJ, gave me this award and that means she must really dig my stuff because that is the thing I choose to believe.
Now the other rule of the ABC Award since I chose to ignore the bestowing on other bloggers rule is I must describe myself using adjectives that begin with each letter of the alphabet and I would have done that except I’m more of an adverbial girl. So I chose to delight you with expressions I say – a different one for each letter of the alphabet. Some of these expressions are not original lest you think I am trying to take credit for someone else’s little bon mots. (I’m being pretentiously French again.)
Be excellent to one another.
Do you really believe that?
I love you, my friend.
Kids are overrated.
Let’s not and say we did.
Mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
Oh no, Mr. Bill.
Power tools frighten me.
Turn the corner, don’t just talk about it.
Up until now, it made sense.
Xeriscaping suits my Darwinian attitude towards my yard.
You say crazy like it’s a bad thing.
Ok, I don’t really say Zounds! but I didn’t want to admit defeat so close to the end. Of course, admitting that I rarely if ever utter a sentence where the first word of said sentence begins with the letter Z is hardly a defeat worth admitting. The xeriscaping comment is also not something I say often though it does trip ever so lightly from my mouth whenever the subject of landscaping comes up. I also was torn between a couple of choices for some letters, W for example. My runner up choice was whackadoodle. However, I rarely begin sentences with whackadoodle. Typically it appears at the end of sentences that begin with he’s a or what a or you’re a, so technically it doesn’t fit the rule.
However, whackadoodle is a great word and it rhymes with noodle and poodle and those three words would be great together in a Guapster worthy limerick or maybe the big G himself would throw a whackadoodle noodle poodle limerick out there. If you are feeling particularly limericky, then leave a whackadoodle noodle poodle limerick in the comments for my reading pleasure. I think composing a whackadoodle noodle poodle limerick is probably as easy as XYZ. That last sentence would have been even better if I had written ‘as easy as XYZoodle’ but I don’t think XYZoodle is a word. Whackadoodle may not be a word either. Look at that, I did begin a sentence with whackadoodle. However, I still stand by my decision to relegate whackadoodle to its runner-up position in the W category.
Now I”m feeling like a whackadoodle because I’m struggling to find a way to end this whackadoodly madness, but I can’t think of anything clever so I’ll just stop. Right now. So until next time, toodles! (And you thought I couldn’t think of another ‘oodle’ word.)