It’s getting harder and harder to blog these days. Why? It’s not because my life is boring. My life has always been boring. So what can it be? Have I become boring? Quelle horreur.

So. What’s new? With me, I mean. (I’m talking to myself, hoping I can elicit a response. It isn’t crazy if you do it for artistic reasons.) Today I unfriended someone on the Facebook. I had never unfriended anyone before today. I had to Google how to do it because it wasn’t immediately intuitive to me. I’m sure I could have accidentally figured it out eventually. But I just couldn’t wait! Not that I did it rashly or anything. It’s been a long time coming. You know, I have a couple friends on the FB who are kind of crazies. My rule is that if most of what I see from you in my news feed is bitter political rants and/or crazy conspiracy theories, I hide your updates. But I don’t unfriend people. Mainly because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

But here’s the thing: I have a wide variety of friends. They’re all over the map, politically, religiously, conspiratorially, whateverly–but the thing they all have in common is that I like them. What I realized today is that this particular FB friend–whose feed I hid ages ago but who still comments on my posts from time to time–is just a suckhead and I don’t like them anymore. I don’t want them talking to me, and I don’t want them talking to my friends. And I don’t care if I hurt their feelings because they’re a suckhead and assuming they still have feelings, they deserve to have them hurt. Maybe it will help them not to be a suckhead anymore. (I doubt it, but anything’s possible.)

Unfortunately, over the course of contemplating this decision, I sort of broke my no-swearing-in-February resolution. Not that I wrote a nasty message on their wall calling them a #$*(#$ suckhead before I unfriended them, although that might have been emotionally satisfying. No, I just happened to be talking about them to somebody and I used a word that might have been more vulgar than suckhead. But not to worry, I’m back on the wagon now.

“Suckhead” doesn’t count as swearing, right?

I’m feeling a little bit feisty today. Not feisty enough to accomplish anything of merit, but feisty enough to unfriend someone on Facebook and then blog about it like a loser.

Except that feisty women don’t refer to themselves as losers! So scratch that. I mean, scratch the part about being a loser. I want to go back to thinking of myself as feisty.

What else can I do today that’s feisty? I could take a shower. I probably should, since I went clogging this morning. But what would be feistier–showering or not showering? You could make a case for both, I think. Or neither. I’m just trying to come up with something more exciting than laundry, which is also something I need to do. Also, make the bed. And unload the dishwasher. Crap, there’s a lot of un-feisty tasks on my plate, isn’t there?

Does “crap” count as swearing? Because I think I’ve been using it with impunity thusfar.

Have I mentioned lately that I L-O-V-E clogging? It’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys. I think a feisty thing for me to do is go out and spend $100 on some real clogging shoes. Unfortunately, I only have 40 more minutes before I have to pick the kids up from school, and that’s not enough time to go to the other side of Portland and back. Which is where they sell the clogging shoes. The other side of Portland, that is. Not back. Back is where I have to be at 2:40. And where they don’t sell clogging shoes. Because if they did, there’d be time. Maybe I will still feel feisty tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is a tradition in our household that we take the kids out for pizza on Valentine’s Day. We started this tradition after we had a kid and couldn’t get a babysitter on Valentine’s Day. I’m trying to remember the pizza parlor we went to. It was in Eugene. I think it was Abby’s. They were selling a heart-shaped pizza. So we took almost-two-years-old Princess Zurg out for heart-shaped pizza on Valentine’s Day, back in…2000. I remember, my husband couldn’t find a card that he liked so he ended up giving me a paperback copy of Les Miserables, which he’d found at a used book store. Isn’t that cute? I don’t think I got him anything. It’s kind of my way. Birth the children, let him buy me gifts. You know how it is.

So that’s what we’ve been doing ever since. Going out for pizza with the kids, I mean. I don’t get a used paperback every year. (Unfortunately!) Anyway, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, but it’s also Cub Scouts. And Boy Scouts. Mister Bubby is a Boy Scout now. So there isn’t really time to go out for pizza tomorrow night. So we’re going out tonight instead because tonight there is time. It seemed kind of lame at first, but then I thought, you know, we’re not slaves to the calendar. We don’t have to play by The Man’s rules. If we want to get pizza on February 13, by golly, that’s what we’ll do.

I know what you’re thinking: Feisty.

Well, I better motor if I’m gonna make that shower. Happy Monday, mes amis. And happy Valentine’s Day to all you non-conformists who want to celebrate life on your schedule. Peace out.

(I can’t believe I just said that. This new-found feistiness may be getting out of hand.)

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