Now that I’ve gone and made the bold statement of trying to be a more prolific blogger here I seem to have my head shoved squarely up my own ass. 
Well not really.
That makes me queasy just thinking about it.
I can barely move after doing all the squats with The New Trainer.

I sat down today to write and thought I would look through some drafts to see what  I’ve started.

There was one titled “Giblets” .
Where have all the giblets gone? Why is it that my roasters have no heart or liver, or a neck for crying out loud? God dammit, who’s stealin’ my giblets? 
OH. MY. GOD. 
They are always frozen solid which can only mean it must be the black market chicken organ trade ©.

Another titled “(no title)”. 
I am sure that this is the best post ever written on the face of the planet but I can’t tell YOU about it because then you would steal my idea, push me down a flight of stairs and rush back to your computer and bang it out and probably take over the Internet with all the power, wisdom and light hiding in that post.

Ooh, then there is the one titled  “Twitter Dreams”.
Considering the risk of having someone take out a restraining order on me I don’t think I should post about her. I actually don’t even follow her so that is even more fucked up.

The draft that sums it all up is the one titled “Productivity”. 
I saw this and I was like. YES MOTHER OF GOD…THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT. I am going to be so productive. I am going to edit that post just a little bit, a tweak here, a twist there and then hit the publish button, slap my own ass and sit back and wait for all the bloggy money love to start rolling in.

And so I clicked on quick edit.

*blink*

*blink, blink*

*blink*

 (*you really need to click on it to ENLARGE this.)

 Hold on….just in case you don’t understand I’ve taken the liberty to clarify what is going on here.

(*and because my theme here is “limited” in that special kind of way you need to click on it again to take in the glory that is this most productive post ever)

I know, I KNOW!!! 
I could hardly believe it my self. GOD DAMN I am some kind of special talent.  
It almost brings you to tears right…me too.
I am that good.
Now you understand why I have a hard time posting more than once a week. With thoughts like these swirling about my brain hole I can hardly pin one of them down and whack it out on my keyboard.

Such is the life of  genius.

Mensa here I come.

*I promise one of these days, between the greatness of my thoughts and my squats, to update to a theme that you can actually see the *so awesome pictures that blow your mind away like wooooosh* that I post.

 P.S. Working with a sreen shot of a post draft while drafting a post was entirely too confusing.

Because sometimes when all you’ve got is your new Justin Bieber hair cut because your old hair style wasn’t cutting it, and its Monday and all you want to do is nap. Maybe, just maybe all you need are some Turkish amphetamines and exactly five cheese puffs to get you through.

(I spent the better part of my Monday evening searching for this and ignoring my wine and this is the very best I could do, but it just fit my mood so well.
The ad is short and it was the only way to embed this clip, shoot me.)

I’ve got nothing else today, except that I think I answered a bunch of questions that Moooooog35 asked me over at Studio 30′s weekly “Questions For a Blogger“.
Most likelyI never answered the subtle, almost unspoken burning question that he secretly really wanted to ask . 

One more thing,  I am trying to get back into running. Try not to make too much fun of me as I am doing my best not to become a decrepit old lady, but from how the right side of my body feels I think I am doing it all wrong.
I signed up on Go Nike but I have no idea how to link you there if you even give a fuck but I am AVapidBlonde over there. I’d like to be friends. Or foes, what ever.
The more the merrier.