Dear Poop Face, Go Away.

Hai.

So, a few days ago I was watching 'The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency' and, after seeing whatshername's assisant say 'Go Away' in this amazingly-fitting African accent that seemed to make the 'Go Away' velvety smooth, it got me practicing my accents.

I'll admit, I'm a bit of a weirdo. I like accents. A lot. And even more, I like to try and get them just right so I can say things like this 'Go Away'. Here's the teaser for the program. As it's already ended, it's just to get you to buy them so you can watch their awesomeness yourself.

Here's a snazzo picture of the speaker:



So, uhm, anyway. I was, honestly, more than a little bit jealous when I read a certain blogger's blog t'other (that's: the other) day. Not Emerald Delight No. 2 Green with envy. Not even Grecian Garland No. 3 jealous. Something closer to Granada Green No. 6 type of jealousy-greenn-ness.

And it got me thinking. Why wasn't I as capable a writer as her? Yeah yeah, I know, I write all fine and it's nice to read and blah blah with a cup of blah with a scoop of blah on top. But, honestly, there's a line (which isn't a fine line, by the way) between an 'okay' writer and a 'GREAT' writer. It's clear which I'm on and, well, it was very clear to me which side she was on.

And it got me thinking. What's that one ingredient that I need? Silken Tofu? Bran Flakes? Chilli-Cheeze-Fries?

But then it really got me thinking. I'm quite a Twitter lover (here's me) and, well, I am sometimes very much astounded by the base some people have made on Twitter. Like, seriously. I don't just mean the 'stars' who have 10 zillion followers who 'Oooh' and 'Aaah' at everything they do. I mean those people who have, quite literally, gone from nothing and made themselves a community.

I'm especially impressed by the moms/mums that do this.

And so, as I was thinking about why I was an Epic Mage of Suckage in the World of Blogcraft, I decided I would actually get to know someone who, to me, is one of several Twitter Demi-Goddesses on my list. I sent her a tweet to get the end-of-this-suckage ball rolling. To start off with it was rocky ground. I was like WTF. When did Twitter-conversation and gaity (that's being all fun 'n' stuff, not having orgies) become kinda hard? When did it become a SLOG?! Uhm, yeah.

So then it kinda hit me. I've evolved from a Mattachu to an Old-Croneachu. Shocked much? Not much, I'll bet.

It half-hit me and half-didn't. Sort of like when someone looks at a box of powdered icing sugar and it suddenly explodes everywhere. The sugar doesn't really 'hit' you, but rather wafts seductively onto you until you're covered in a big-ass sugary mess. But there it was, my big sugary mess: When did I suddenly have to make life so serious? I've got, like, 60 years left. IF that. I'm a man, so who am I kidding? I've got 53-ish years left (and, if you're paying attention, you can work out my age (ish) with that)!

So, with that in mind, I need to loosen up a little, stop being such an Old-Croneachu and be more of a a Looseachu. Let's see how this goes.

Until our next equilibrioception encounter,