Tag Archives: sarcasm

Gandhi’s Top 4 Tips On How To Have A Crappy Blog

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I realize it’s possible that a few of you might have been slightly distracted by the crumbling economy and possible impending doom of our country’s unresolvable debt crisis, therefore you might not have been tuned into the Discovery channel like I was last weekend. And that means, you missed the recent archaeological discovery of a lifetime.

Gandhi was so cool. Not only was he the change he wanted to be in the world, he was waaay ahead of his time. Yes, he might have been barefoot, but he knew things about the future. And it was no surprise to me when his list of  Top 4 Tips on How To Have a Crappy Blog were excavated. Obviously, when he wasn’t selling his quotes to card companies, he was busy documenting his wisdom.

My heart is too big and full of love for you just to let you sit there all non-educated. I inherited my mom’s sense of compassion. And maybe even a little of Gandhi’s too?

Here is what they were able to interpret from the hieroglyphics. Don’t ask me why Gandhi was writing in hieroglyphics. Some things aren’t meant to be understood in this lifetime. Lucky for you I took Intro to Hieroglyphics in college. Right before I dropped out.

1. “Felesnale eef  linxeicve bi w.aiven.a wefiengt!  slfiewh!”

Translation: Why in the name of my visible sternum do you make it so impossible to leave comments? Do you hate me? Why do you hate me when I am just trying to act interested in what your dog did yesterday? Cus it seems by the obstacle course you have set up that you’re trying to scare me away. Ouch! Is that an electric fence? (there’s the forward thinking again) Ah! I think I just gashed my leg on some rusty barbed wire!

Gandhi’s advice: Captcha sucks. Especially if it shows up after I have already submitted a comment. Half of the time, I have already left the page before it pops up, in which case my comment is lost and I’m too busy making up quotes to resubmit. The other half, I can’t read the captcha correctly, not because I’m a robot, but because it’s stupid. Also, if you have the captcha Nazis in place, why do you need to approve comments? You don’t. Comment approval cramps my style and the natural flow of conversation. It makes conversation and replying difficult. P.S. WordPress automatically catches spam without captcha, so maybe you should switch over. 

Hey, his words not mine.

2. “wao;ifwa #() frefwas fwal;ifaw;oinee fneifms e! wefiens!”

Translation: See these dreadful round glasses I have to wear? It’s because your black backgrounds and tiny fonts make my eyes hurt. After I read your posts, I have to close my eyes and meditate to alleviate the stress and ward off the dizzy spells. Which is okay, because it gives me so much more time to think of quotable quotes, but dangit.

Gandhi’s advice: If you must have a black background because you feature art, or cartoons (ahem, Bearman aka Mr. Hotlink) then by all means. But if you can help it, you should have a light background with dark text that is easier on the eyes – many people have issues with dark backgrounds and light text. Oh, and have text that is LARGE enough for me to see without my spectacle! Reading your blog shouldn’t be a struggle!

3. “stop being an idiot”

Translation: None needed.

Gandhi’s Advice: Posting every day will not make you famous. It will only annoy me because you have nothing quality to say. Although all of your words might not end up on a greeting card like mine, you should still put some thought into what you’re saying. My time is precious. I am busy making peace and I don’t have time to hear about what your kid left on his dinner plate last night. Plus, I cannot possibly leave a comment on all of those posts. Not that I would anyway, because your barbed wire fence got in the way.

4. “awoefne lfleell! fwlifweoi, flwiefw, wflieefjisisi!”

Translation: The Blogger commenting structure sucks. It’s very discouraging if you don’t have Blogger. I have been to some Blogger blogs where the ONLY option to leave a comment is to enter my Blogger ID or Google account. How very discriminatory of that blog. I know Google is taking over the world, but you do realize that not everyone has a Google account right? And even though I do, it doesn’t link back to my blog.

Gandhi’s Advice: If you choose to use the Blogger comment system, you must enable ALL options for leaving comments. This includes the name/url option, for those of us who have self hosted sites. Otherwise, there is no way for us to comment. And I don’t. And then you get all “where’s my comments?” and I tell you to shut it. My best advice in this scenario would be to install Disquis.

That being said, if you’re out there and you have a Blogger blog with a black background and captcha with barely any commenting options, you have the crappiest blog ever! If you have a blog with only a few of these things wrong, your blog is only a little crappy and there is still hope for you.

Peace be with you,

Gandhi

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Your Daily Dose Of Embarrassment And A Free Photo

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[I apologize for all who tried to comment on the guest blog by Jen on Monday. Apparently, there were some issues with Explorer not allowing comments. Thank you for your emails and all the great advice! I really appreciate you guys. But more importantly, why are you still using Explorer?]

Yesterday, the moon was in the second house. The sun was shining. It was quasi-warm in the Midwest for the first time since Christmas. The alignment of all these rare events led to a brilliant idea on my part. And by brilliant, I mean an idea that led to devastating embarrassment.

I decided, for the first time in five years, to clean out my beautiful baby Saturn. I have oft neglected such duties on account that my baby is 12 years old, has a hole in the hood, leaks on me every time it rains and is probably about to breathe it’s last breath. And I figure that would just be quality time wasted on cleaning, when I could be Twittering or Facespacing, or thinking of more reasons to hate Neil Diamond.

Let me first set the scene for you. I had just gotten out of the shower and I let my hair air dry. Let me just tell you that you’ve never seen anything like an air-dried pile of half-curly, unruly Italian hair. That being said, I also had applied some white zit cream to my chin and left cheek due to an overly stressful week. I put on my “house glasses” and all of you who wear glasses know what I mean by that. You have the normal pair, which can be seen in public. Then, you have the “house” pair, which used to be a normal pair until someone sat on them or the prescription became outdated and now they are solely used for laying in bed and watching TV. Also, since it was warm, I was wearing my daisy duke plaid PJ shorts and a wife beater. And Ugg boots.

I went in the garage and started cleaning. The world was at peace and that’s where this story should end.

But it doesn’t, cus I’m full of bright ideas, remember?

I thought to myself, “It’s sunny out and everyone is at work. I’m just gonna back out of the garage for a bit so I can see things better, but I’ll still be inside the car so no one will see me.”

Well, I suppose that would have generally been the case. But NOT YESTERDAY. Around the corner, I see a man walking by out of the corner of my eye. I had the driver side door open, with one leg out, like some sort of car straddling white trash person.

I ignored him at first, because, I’m sort of the hermit of the neighborhood and no one talks to me.

Except, of course, new neighbors who move next door and want to introduce themselves.

Are you starting to connect the dots?

He walks straight over. Probably about thirty. Gorgeous, wearing a suit. As he approached, I instantly panicked. There is NO WAY I can escape this. He shouts, “I’m new here, trying to get around and meet all the neighbors.” I stared down at the floormats and kept cleaning. I said, “Oh, nice to meet you.”

For goodness sakes, isn’t that enough recognition for any ordinary person? This is America, after all.

Then, only because it’s my life, he kept walking closer. He stands right next to me and I quickly adjusted the shorts, considering the very compromising position I was in. At that moment, I was so preoccupied with not flashing him that I did not recollect the zit cream on my face until he blatantly glared at my chin. As he stuck out his hand, he said, “I’m Todd. I work for the local news. Nice to meet you.”

Oh, the news. Of coursssssssse you do.

I get a lot of emails asking if people can purchase photos from my blog. So….I introduce to you: Free Photo Fridays.

[Free Photo Fridays are a little break from my regular blog posts. I love photography. And I love sharing it with other people. So, on Fridays, I post a high resolution download of one of my favorite pictures for you to use. Hang it on your wall. Use it for your desktop. Frame it and give it to your mom. Do whatever you want. Also, if you have a picture you’d like to add, send it to me at info@bluntdelivery.com and I’ll feature it with a link back to your site. Share the love people.]

Since it is finally getting warm out, I will start with this picture of melting Midwestern ice. Click here to download. [3216 x 2136 px]



10 Phrases I Can’t Respect

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I’m gonna start backwards from #10.

It’s just the right thing to do, according to David Letterman.

10.  A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

Additional comments: If I have to apply an algebraic equation to dissect your advice, maybe you should opt for just saying WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY.

9. It is what it is.

Additional comments: Oh, it is? Are you sure it isn’t what it is? Or perhaps, it isn’t what it isn’t? What happened to the the birds? Are they still hanging out in the bush? Or are they in my hand now?

8. The cream rises to the top.

Additional comments: So, let me just clarify -who’s da cream? From what I understand the ‘cream’ is supposed to be the better man, yes? But, in this scenario, the ‘better man’ will also lead to clogged arteries and therefore, ultimately cause a possible myocardial infarction. Please reconsider the philosophy behind this phrase. Or, just don’t say it cause it’s gross.

7. Take the bull by the horns.

Additional comments: So essentially, you’re assuming that I’m the stupidest person alive?

6. Dance like no one is watching, love like you’ve never been hurt, sing like no one is listening.

Additional comments: Quick! Someone SAVE MY EARS!! P.S. Do I have your permission to use my hairbrush as a microphone too? Cus that is about the only thing that could make this scenario more awesome.

5.When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Additional comments: Oh what a sunshiny outlook on life’s difficulties! But lets not set ourselves up for disappointment here. If all you have are a pile of questionable lemons, when you squeeze them, you’re only gonna end up with a cup of lemon juice with a bunch of pulp and seeds floating all up in it. Now, if life gives you a lemon, a pint of sugar plus a gallon of filtered water, then I’ll accept the legitimacy of this poorly thought out suggestion.

4. It takes more effort to frown that it does to smile.

Additional comments: It also takes you more effort to say that, than to not say it. Just looking out for you, chatty.

3. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Additional comments: Interesting theory, young Watson. But from what I’ve seen so far, absence only makes the heart grow fonder of people that it probably shouldn’t be fondling.

2. There is more than one way to skin a cat.

Additional comments: There is? What a relief! That narrows down the chances that I might have been doing it incorrectly all this time! Well, hot dog!

1.  The only thing to fear is fear itself.

Additional comments: Okay. I hear what you’re saying. But somehow, I feel like you’re failing to remember all the snakes and monsters and Osmond TV specials and stuff?

Honorable mentions: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Three sheets to the wind.

Use your best judgement,

Blunt

If This Blog Was A Buffet, Would You Like It More?

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Precisely.

Which is why Blunt Delivery will soon become the Golden Corral of blogs.

See? And you thought there was no possible way I could tie in such a random title to this blog post. How long do we have to be on this journey together before you will stop underestimating my masterful literary skills?

Hurtful.

Much to my own dismay, I have an endless supply of long-winded, sarcastically-laced stories about my sordid past for your reading pleasure. But sometimes. Sometimes, my phalanges get just a little bit… tired.

I’m sure my next sentence will come as the shock of your adult life, but, it has never been my goal to post everyday. Why? I feel like even the best of writers don’t have something worthwhile to say to the world on a daily basis. On top of that, I don’t even fit in the “best of writers” category. Jay Leno’s writers can’t even come up with something quasi-entertaining and they actually get paid to do it. Well, mama isn’t getting paid, kids- except for the knowledge that I’m revolutionizing lives one blog at a time, and I guess for a self-sacrificial type like myself, that’s all the payment I need. Now give me a moment whilst I yank myself from the tree I’m bear-hugging, snatch up a piece of random litter and gather my thoughts.

Puke.

Another reason why I don’t post daily is because I have never, ever forced myself to write a blog. What does this mean for you, my reader with unparalleled beauty? Well, it means that you don’t have to hear about my dog’s potty training troubles or the fact that my child is so darn cute when he leaves an “R” out of word.

But Blunt, I thought you didn’t have kids and you hated dogs?

Wait, who are you and how did you manage to hijack this blog?

The point is, I only write when I have a thought so utterly preposterous that my hands go on auto pilot and I can’t stop but only for a cupcake. Or two. And although many of you yell at me for my lack of posting, I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve grown to appreciate that about me. And if you’re not being honest with yourself, then you need to lose the spandex and cut the crap already. It’s not working for you.

THE POINT IS sometimes I AM tired, yet I still have something that I would like to say. Thus, I am creating a new category called: Blunt Bites. Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with Vampires. Or brownie bites.

But gosh, I wish it did.

Blunt Bites will break the format of my usual, quasi-lengthy,  jaw-dropping, laugh-out-loud posts (right?), and sum up a significant part of my life in a mere paragraph or two. It will be like a snapshot of sorts. And I don’t even know if I’m up to the challenge.

You lucky ducks.

Or maybe all of that was just a lie and I’m merely using this as a selfish writing exercise on how to condense stories.

I trust you will will find the answer deep within yourself.

The following is a “sample” of what a Blunt Bite will be. They might be sarcastic. They might be funny. They might be tragic. But, they will all be honest.

You said it all felt like high school again – that somehow, being together made you forget that you were an adult with responsibilities and problems and broken dreams. For me, it was an escape, a mere a moment of blind optimism; in that sense I guess I can see what you meant about high school. One day at the gas station, you were down to your last two dollars and so you told me to pick out a lottery ticket. You said, “Choose wisely – this is going to pay for our summer home out east.” I chose a pink one.

It was the wrong choice. And so were you.

Mmm. Now that’s something to munch on.

The Grinch Who Stole Blunt’s Christmas [And A Foxy Giveaway]

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Last year, I was robbed of my Christmas joy. I’m still in hot pursuit of the culprit, but the Grinch is definitely on my short list.

For the first time in history, I refused to put up a tree. Suffering from an almost paralyzing depression, those around me grew quite worrisome. My mother, who wouldn’t have any of it, started sending me daily cheer-up Christmas cards in the mail. Daily. Then, whenever she would “stop by,” she would sneak a mini pre-decorated Christmas tree into a different room of my house.

In January, I wrote a nasty goodbye letter to 2009, but ended it with cheerful optimism. Little did I know, however, that 2010 would present some of the biggest challenges of my life. Not, like, hiking up a mountain, challenging – a whole different kind of challenging. Cus really, would I ever be caught hiking?

I’ll forever remember 2010 as the year that everything sucked until it became awesome. I’m pleased that at least my life-changing year is a nice, round number – it plays into my ‘Monica from Friends syndrome’ quite nicely. It was a painful year of self-reflection brought on by the culmination of a lot of ongoing poor decisions. I don’t need to list the events for you, but I went into a little detail about some them in this blog. Over the year, many of my posts have been introspective in nature, about broken hearts and broken dreams and passion and valedictorian speeches. Cus I fricken love valedictorian speeches.

So how did the year finally become awesome? And no, it’s not because I had a great revelation as I was laying on a table a month ago, waiting to find out whether or not I might have breast cancer. But I was really, really cold if that counts. It took a lot more than that. This is the year that I finally broke the cycle of the miserable existence I’ve been living – the cycle of beating myself up over poor decisions I can’t change, people who will never change, and analyzing things until I am so lost in my past regrets that I have forgotten how to live in the present.

That’s what.

[click here for the rest of my blustery, Midwesterny pictures]

And as many times as someone told me: “can’t change the past, move on”  – it didn’t matter. As many times as I told myself that I hadn’t messed up my life beyond repair – it didn’t matter, cus I didn’t believe it. Life will always be a punk, but half of the battle is your outlook and response to it. As a natural-born pessimist, the cycles in my life have been beyond hard to break. I had to do some serious work on my attitude and perspective towards life. For the first time in, well, forever, I actually feel good when I wake up in the morning. I’m excited about life. And, most importantly, I no longer look at the past decade as a total waste of time and energy. It taught me a great deal and made me into a stronger person than I ever realized.

How’s that for warm and fuzzy?

Are you freaked out yet?

Have you totally hit the unsubscribe button?

Would it smooth things over if I gave stuff away?

Stuff I’m giving away to you: [I made this big and bold to make it easier for you to skip over everything else]

Since I was a child, I have wanted to open a greeting card company. Not cus I’m great at illustrations, cus I’m not. And not cus I have the hook-up with a manufacturer, cus I don’t. And not cus I was born with a natural ability to come up with clever sayings, cus I wasn’t. But because ALL OF THEM SUCK.

Guess what? I found some that don’t suck.The company is called Foxy Blunt. Could this BE more of an arranged marriage? These cards make me want to purchase stamps again, know what I mean?

So, I am giving away a boxed set of Foxy Blunt cards of your choosing plus some cool other stuff the girls are going to throw in. I might suggest the Friendship/Love set, or the Birthday set, or the Holiday set. But what I really, REALLY love is the Thank You set and the Thinking of You set.

I trust you will make the right decision.

WAIT! Hold the mistletoe!

Don’t for one second think that I’ve forgotten about my first love, Bitter Baking Company – because I could never do such a thing. In fact, we might have to enter a three-way love affair with Foxy Blunt. You will also receive a batch of my absolute favorite sarcastic holiday cookies!

HOW TO ENTER: leave a comment telling me one positive thing that happened to you this year. Contest is open until Saturday, Dec. 18th at noon.

UPDATE: Winner of this contest is J from TwentySomethings!

I’m Offended For Two Reasons

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1. That half of you didn’t even notice I posted a Thanksgiving Giveaway until it was too late to enter. This makes me feel like you’re under some sort of assumption that it’s not worth bothering to check my blog cus I only post like twice a month or something? Pray tell, how and why has your perception become so skewed? This is the problem with liberal media!!

Let this be a lesson to you.

Luckily, Karaoke Activity Partner has not yet been brainwashed to believe such lies. She checked my blog like a good little robot and scored some sweet action Thanksgiving cookies from The Bitter Baking Company.

BUT, because this is the season of giving. And because you’re all so awesome when you’re not making me want to pull my hair out by the roots. And because my blog is considering having a love child with Bitter Baking Company, Blunt Delivery will be doing four more giveaways before Christmas! And not just of cookies, but other Blunt-worthy items that I’ve scouted the fruited plains for as well.

2. ‘Black’ Friday. Really? Even now with Obama and everything? [BTW: my spellchecker just suggested I replace Obama with Alabama]

Speaking of Black Friday… if you were anywhere, doing anything, at 3 am I think you should reconsider your life goals. Perhaps take a Carnival cruise. Move some furniture around. Get some bangs. Something.

My Black Friday Wrap Up= 23 stores. No snacks. No bathroom breaks. Home by 6. Add a spandex jumpsuit and some Air Jordan’s and Black Friday would have been shaking in it’s half-priced winter boots. VICTORIOUS!

Insignificant detail: Had one solitary item on my list and returned home without it.

Whatever.

When I pulled up to my house, confusion struck me. What is this box on my doorstep? I am not expecting anything. A bomb? A puppy? 1-800-FLOWERS? Cus those are all things that I don’t really want. I thought we were over Anthrax scares? What could it BE?!  Did I somehow check ‘afternoon delivery’ on my online purchases this morning?!  No. It cannot be. There is no such thing.

And then I glanced at the return address label and saw that it was my very own batch of cookies from Bitter Baking Company.

It’s was a Black Friday MIRACLE! There I was, starving, exhausted, and broke, and I arrive home to find dinner waiting on my doorstep!

See guys, there is a moral to be extracted from this story. A soul pancake to be eaten. This just goes to prove that you can buy all the stuff in the world and still come home to find yourself starving, depressed, broke and alone. That is, until you discover cookies on your doorstep. Just remember this holiday season that it isn’t stuff that will make you happy.

It’s cookies.

It was my version of achieving World Peace.

Thanksgiving Giveaway: Because I’m Thankful For You Believe It Or Not

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UPDATE: According to Random.org the WINNER IS KARAOKE ACTIVITY PARTNER! Please email me with your address immediately!

I woke up to a brilliant idea. This is no different than most days, except today’s brilliant idea means that you are about to win free Thanksgiving cookies from the Bitter Baking Company! These ladies rock my socks. You will receive a wonderful assortment  of deliciously sarcastic 3.5″ sugar cookies with meringue icing! Example:

Why the Bitter Baking Company?

Please rephrase the question.

What does this mean for you??

You will be the hit of Thanksgiving. And perhaps the envy of your siblings. And perhaps even someone will forgive a wrongdoing that you commited because you brought such incredibly hilarious baked goods. Actually, I believe that they definitely will.

TWO SIMPLE RULES:

1. Follow me on either Facebook or Twitter. If you don’t have either one then you aren’t off the hook, cus you can also subscribe. But you should already be doing this because it’s the right thing to do. ****Extra entry if you “like” Bitter Baking Co on Facebook!

2. Leave a comment saying one thing that you’re thankful for. If you can’t think of even one, then be thankful you’re possibly winning these cookies, goshdarnit.

Deadling is SUNDAY November 21 AT MIDNIGHT. I will then update this post with the name of the winner. You must email me at info [at] bluntdelivery.com by noon on Monday with your address so that the cookies can be mailed out by Monday 4:00pm. You will have them by Wednesday!

A GIANT thank you to all of you who read this blog and tell me how messed up I am, and send me encouragement when I’m hanging by a thread. You’re the greatest and your comments and blogs inspire me every day!

xoxo

Blunt.

And We Didn’t Even Go On A First Date

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I just feel like it all moved a bit fast.

There I was, shirtless. And we hadn’t even bantered about our favorite foods. I didn’t even know his middle name. He had no clue of my sorted past with inappropriate men or that I have a constant desire to buy unnecessary office supplies. I didn’t even have the chance to make up some terribly impressive story about how I quit my job to work with Tsunami victims or feed children in Ethiopia.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but be filled with doubts that this just wouldn’t turn out right.

But I was wrong.

For the second time I can vividly remember, I was terribly mistaken.

The breast biopsy results were negative.

All the juicy details to follow on the video blog. Why? Because I’m suspecting my only other competition is Wheel of Fortune, Jersey Shore, or one of about 800 shows that chronicle the life of a young law enforcement agent working on the streets of LA who quits his job every other week because he never anticipated how rough it would really be.

If you so much as even consider choosing Jersey Shore over me, we’re through.

On a serious note, I would like to give a big Blunt thank you to all of the people who emailed me and talked me off the ledge during the past month. Specifically, my new girlfriend Vodka and Ground Beef, and my Colorado other half, Twenty Somethings. It’s amazing how much you can relate to people you’ve never actually met. I’d say it’s the main, if only reason, I keep this old blog going.

So between the biopsy, the financial issues, a family crisis, relationship stuff, a bff having a baby – I apologize for my absence. I’ll be getting over to your blogs this week and thanks for sticking around… MUAH!

I’ll be back in a couple days with some introspective Thanksgiving-ish post!

12 Step Breakup Recovery Program

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It’s been twelve days since my last post. Accident? Please. We’re not talking about Denny DelVecchio here. I’m trying to subliminally remind that you that the twelve days of Christmas are just around the corner and it’s in your best interest to put the danish down and put the tree up. Don’t be one of those scrooges that waits til the day after Thanksgiving. Why even bother with the holidays if that’s how you’re gonna be?

I also thought we could channel any pent up rage you might have against me for not posting into something beneficial… like, learning. So while I’m working on my new soon-to-be smash hit “She’s Just Not That Into You Volume. 1 of 250,” I wanted to take some time out to educate you on a subject matter that I have mastered: the breakup.

There isn’t a one of you out there who hasn’t been through this dreadful necessity of life called The Breakup. Unless you’re 17, in which case, you shouldn’t require this information because you shouldn’t be dating yet. And if you are, I’m very offended. At your mom. Or dad. Or two moms. Or foster parents for not protecting your innocence. And I’m also offended at you for throwing such a fit about it and playing the “I’ll just run away then I can do whatever I want” card that they had no choice but to just give in and let you. I can just see you doing that snotty little voice that you do.

Darnit, the both of you.

Clearly, this topic is too deeply personal to not convey face-to-face …so I have opted for a video blog.  And I am quite certain if you follow this 12 Step Program, you will find yourself back in the saddle and riding off into the sunset with the strapping, young [and better looking than the last one] cowboy or girl of your choice.

*I apologize if I look like I haven’t slept in about two weeks. Cus I haven’t.

Yea yea, so I cut it off too soon. Whatevs. It was late.

Anyway, thanks for sticking around even though I’ve been MIA. I promise it was for good reason. But can I get some sort of credit for actually replying to my comments these days???

I’ll be visiting you all later today.

My Blog Is A Racist And Frankly, I’m Disgusted

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[Remember when I told you to check out my Blogboyfriend’s interview of me last Saturday but then it wasn’t there? Yeaaaa, well that’s cus he just posted it. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me but were afraid to ask – right here.]

There comes a point in all of our lives where each of us has to take a cold, hard look at our blogs. We need to step back and analyze if they are, in fact,  the blogs that they painted themselves out to be in the honeymoon phase.

This is a sad day, friends.

I never could have saw this coming. Of course, it’s better to have found out now than five years down the road when my blog and I have a book deal and my entire extended family has purchased a wardrobe of white, draw-string pants and relocated to Bermuda to live off the ad revenues.

How did I discover this betrayal?

Considering I’m a private person, I normally wouldn’t expose the painful details. But if it can spare even one of you from going through this heartache, it is worth every tearful stroke of the pearly plastics.

Last Friday, it was 3 am, and I felt lone-ly-y. Ugh. Sorry, I hate when Rob Thomas gets all desperate for attention and hacks into my posts – I’m SO over needy guys whose musical careers peaked mid-nineties. So I was sorting through my posts, and obviously Blunt Delivery’s model of choice is the naked Barbie – cus nothing else seems to make sense in this life. As I was scrolling through the archives, I came across many pictures that you may remember.

Blunt Delivery’s first birthday:

Photo shoot with my mom’s chocolate chip cookies:

It was a laughter-filled trip down virtual memory lane, and then my heart started racing. All the sudden I got that all too familiar feeling in my throat like Wendys’ skilled sandwich makers had given me the wrong Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger and I’d accidentally ingested mayonnaise, and I couldn’t swallow, you know? I was sweating like my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend after I emailed him a screen shot of his Match.com profile. BUSTED.

Every single photo in the archives was of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, Caucasian Barbie.

Excuse me while I puke. How could it be that this entire time my blog has been a white supremacist and I was none the wiser? I’ve always prided myself on my ability to detect social injustices, and although this happened on my watch, I want you to know that I am taking active steps to remedy this situation. The excuses have come pouring in, but I will hear none of it. Don’t try to tell me that there isn’t much of a selection in the Salvation Army nekkid Barbie bin. Don’t act like you got laid off from the bank and couldn’t justify superfluous, brand-new Barbie purchases.

I am a brick wall.

This blog is turning a new leaf and if I have to beat it over the head with an equality stick, that’s what I’m prepared to do. The first step to recovery was to make everyone come in on Saturday at 6:00 am for an Embracing Diversity class. Then, I held a photo shoot to create new category buttons for the sidebar. You’ll notice, I’ve introduced some brunettes and a white trashy whore (for balance) along with two interracial couples. And don’t even think I don’t have an Asian goddess and a South African princess preparing for their closeups.

From now on, this blog will paint with all the colors of the wind.