Why I Don't Get Enough Love

So this morning whilst checking my email, I came across a comment that my dear friend Stephanie over at Not the Oxygen left on one of my posts.

@Arnetta: I just posted your link on 20sb for blogs that don't get enough love because I think you don't...and you're cool. I don't know what the problem is :P

First of all . . . I heart you Stephy-Poo and if you ever want to go gay (minus the monogamy and the sexy time) I'm all for it . . . and secondly *shrugs* I don't know what's up wit dat either. I'm like the little match girl of blogs. I've resigned myself to the idea that I'm just a "starving artist." Someone who blogs to release tension, whether the world is watching or not. I mean, I wouldn't mind a few more followers, but at this point I'm just happy to have an outlet. Either way, these are some of the reasons - real or imaginary - why I think I don't have a million and one (or even 11) followers.

- My blogging is way too sporadic. I will sometimes blog every day and then just not blog for a week/month (although I've been blogging a lot lately). Sometimes the blogs will be funny, sometimes serious, sometimes a little bit of both. Maybe this confuses people.

- I don't have an interesting enough life. In other words, the "man-friend" stories are not cutting it, lol.

- I am an anonymous blogger. I think it's harder for people to connect with someone they can't see. (That's probaby a big one)

- I have garlic breath. And somehow people can smell it through the interwebs. (I eat a lot of italian food)

- My writing does not translate the way I think it does and it comes off confusing, negative, hokey, depressing, corny, random, (fill in the blank).

- I don't have a "thing." You know, a theme, like Lilu's TMI - Thursdays or Re-Ramblings "Pot Luck" Posts or RebelMel's "Freeby Fridays."

- I don't post comments on enough blogs. To tell you the truth, I don't have the time. But the 15 or 16 blogs that I do frequent get their fair share of comments from Arnetta Green, trust that.

- I'm not badass butt enough

- I get too philosophical. This is something I've been accused of doing in "real life." Just talking about life, feelings, relationships, history and maybe people don't want to hear that ish.

- I don't twitter, or reveal my facebook info.

- My layout or title is not cool enough.

- Either, a very influential blogger didn't like a comment I left on a blog or they read one of my posts and didn't like it...so they black listed me, turning the whole web world against me.

- (This is not really a reason-but it further explains my "black-listed" conjecture) So there's a blogger that I used to follow and I noticed that every time I would make a comment, she would never respond. Which was kind of odd, because she wasn't a "hands off" kind of blogger. Okay, whatever, I thought to myself. Maybe she didn't get around to reading my comment. So one day, she'd gotten quite a few comments and responded to each and every one of them, big and small, generic and personal, every last one...all except mine. Coincidence? I don't think so. And I swear my comments were stuff like, "Your dog is beautiful. What breed is he?" or "That looked like fun. Glad it came together for you!" I'm telling you...I'm blacklisted! You guys might want to be careful not to get black-listed by association.

- Maybe I'm excluding a demographic. Sometimes I talk about subjects like race, class and gender. And frankly, that can just be "too heavy" for people. *shrugs*

- Not enough pictures on my blog. You know blog-readers are "baby brains." They need the pictures to keep them going. Morons!

- Maybe I'm too condescending to my potential-followers. Calling them "morons" and "baby brains."

- I don't have enough skills/hobbies or enough . . . I don't know "life" in my life. Like I don't garden, not a clean freak, don't sew/knit or cook too often...my schedule (right now) is overly-packed with work...and when I get home, I mainly just walk the dog, watch tv and go to sleep. Okay...aaand maybe this is the part of the post where I should just kill myself, LOL.

- Maybe I'm just too fabulous and you morons guys can't relate.

- Maybe I'm not fabulous?

- ...nah! I'm fabulous.

Well, that's all I got for now. But all jokes aside, I absolutely love blogging and appreciate any comments, "following" or support that I get. You guys are a small group, but you lift my spirits and make me feel a little less crazy every day.

All right, enough mushyness. Time to get back to work, but first allow me to leave you with this delightful find.

You're welcome! :)

You Live, You Learn

You ever think back to the person that you used to be in relationships? I did that the other day. I was sitting with the significant other, drinking margaritas at our favorite bar. (The food is meh, but the margaritas are off the hook.) While sitting with him and enjoying each other's company, I started reflecting a little (as I tend to do). I thought about how content I was with my current relationship. I saw how simple and mellow our little impromptu dinner was and then I went into serious flashback mode.

~Flashback~

I remembered when I dated this guy. I was 19 at the time and he was like 26, 27. I was in love with him and gave him anything he wanted. We had sex EVERY day. I picked him up (from his mama's house) in my broke down Ford Contour (until it completely died - and then I'd pick him up in my little Mercury Tracer). I laughed at his bad jokes. I spent my campus dollars, buying him food. We'd argue over retarded 'ish that is hard for me to even begin to explain (or admit) now. He told me that he didn't love me and I really believed that I could convince him he did (by being a better girlfriend).

Then I thought about another relationship where I convinced myself that I was a "friend with benefits" just so that I could be a part of that person's life. Even if we weren't really together, I hoped that maybe one day this person would see how wonderful I was and realize that I was "the woman of his dreams." I remember spending my money and time thinking that there would be a payoff (or the sex - which was absolutely terrible - would get better). At one point, I remember driving up to a Blockbuster Video on a particularly snowy day (to drop off a movie) with the guy in my car. And when we pulled up to the drop box, which was right next to his side of the car, he didn't even budge to get out and drop it in the box. These are all things that I couldn't even imagine putting up with now.

~Back to the bar~

I started to laugh. My man-friend was looking at me and trying to figure out what was so funny. I explained to him that the guys that I used to date would absolutely HATE MY FREAKING GUTS now and we both started laughing. Needless to say, he knew exactly what I was talking about. Back in the day, I was any guy's dream-come-true. Naive, moldable, overly-sweet, in excellent physical shape (which I need to get back to), sexual and willing to take on any challenge in a relationship.

Nowadays, not so much. The same guys that I dated would probably think I was the biggest bitch in heels today. (No pun intended on the "big" part. I've gained some weight, but to the naked eye, I still look "in shape" lol) I haven't had to deal with bull-crap in a long time and I am curious as to how I would respond to it today. I couldn't begin to imagine the dripping sarcasm I would probably have. It makes me chuckle just to think about it.

So, I just sat at my little table with my man-friend, chomping on nachos and talking about life and whatever. And deep inside, I was thanking God for allowing me to gain wisdom and confidence as a person.

Just a little peek into my history

Six Degrees of Time-share Presentation

Well, I just got back from kicking it mad hard with Mickey Mouse in Orlando for a whole week. The only thing I had to do was sit through one of those time share presentation things and say "no" about half a million times. After several days of picture taking and train rides through the land of automated robots, my friend and I attended the dreaded presentation early in the morning. I equipped myself with some coffee and sunglasses and immediately told my friend that he would be in charge of thinking and speaking. My brain was closed for business. (And boy was it obvious.) The receptionist asked me what hotel I stayed at twice within a 45 second increment and I couldn't tell her both times. I can only imagine how hookerish I must've sounded!

So anywho, our time-share salesman joins us at our little table and commences with the pitch. He kind of looked like a cracked out Kevin Bacon. Small, skinny, real jittery and car salesman-ish, and of course overly polite. Oh and he just looked rough, I don't know how to describe it, it's like a requirement for salesman to look like they spent the night in jail or something. I felt a little sorry for him, because my friend played the part of the "bad cop" and I, of course tried to be the good cop (but like I said, my brain was fried.) So the only thing I could do was smile at his bad jokes, and nod my head as if I cared what the heck he was talking about. At one point he says, "My family moved a lot when I was a kid. But we lived in this area on an Air force base in -blankety blank- Florida."

"Oh, so that makes you an army brat," I responded. (I'll give ya'll a minute to think about that one.)

So while Kevin Bacon attempted to sell us a time share, my mind attempted to stay with him. Until he messed up and said, "unpeccable." UN-PECCABLE. Like, the timing was unpeccable. That was it. Way too much for my feeble brain to bear. The floodgates were open and my imagination went on a trip.

Hahahaha!!!! Did he just say un-peccable? I wonder if "G" (my guy friend) caught that. Un-peccable. What a douche! No, no. Stop that! That's not nice, Arnetta! Maybe he's had a hard life. Maybe nobody ever told him that the word is impeccable. Hehe. I wonder if he says that during every presentation. Un-peccable. Hilarious. I wonder what this guy's home life is like. He looks like a smoker, I could totally see him smoking a cigarette on his lunch break. He probably cheats on his wife with prostitutes and tells her that he's at work selling time share presentations. Unpeccable.

Yes, I'll blame this mind ramble on my lack of sleep. Anywho, it reminded me of all of the words in life I've gotten wrong or jacked up before being corrected. And then wondered how many times I said it before someone had the decency to correct me. So in honor of the cracked out Kevin Bacon who tried to sell me and my friend a time share, I'll list my words.

Facade - pronounced fuh'sahd. How did I pronounce it for gosh, how long? Fuh-Kade. LOL. Also, for years I would say Shurprise, rather than Surprise. (But that was because I was a cute little kid, who didn't know any better.) Also, while playing softball I would often hear my teammates cheering the girl at bat with "Good Eye!" Stupid me, thought they were saying "Good Day" with their best British accents. And what did I say in return? "Thank you! Good day to you too!"

And with that "Good Eye to you all!" Have a wonderful Thursday!!!