Regrouping and Floor Cleaning

Fuck this moping shit. This needs to be the year of the JRose. I mean, last year I also declared it the year of the JRose (actually it was the "year of winning" but then Charlie Sheen had to go and implode and take my phrase and then I felt weird using it, but damn it, you get the idea), and in reality, for all the other crap, it was pretty much, indeed, a year of winning.  My campaign of terror on @blogger over at twitter, plus my sheer awesomeness, won me Blog of Note, allowing me to meet so many of you Cheeseblargians, which is fairly coincidental that you should already be called Cheeseblargians and then you should follow a site called "da Cheeseblarg."

I also um... I... won .. um... hrm.. I got my art published in a cookbook (Nadia G's Bitchin' Kitchen: Cookin' for Trouble) that I don't have a copy of so it may not actually be in there, so I am just going to assume it is because I signed a waiver saying it could be.  AND someone contacted me wanting to use a bad painting I did of David Hasselhoff in panties for the green room of some show he was going to be on to make him uncomfortable, though I never actually heard back from them...

The really bad painting in question. It's awful. I should have painted the one with the Shar Pei puppies.

 and then Conan O'Brien had my Coco Llama in his gallery AND talked about it after saying my name and another campaign of terror got me to NYC because I was in an art show in NYC and needed to see it in person, which was a life-long goal realized. Plus, I made a bunch of kick ass art. So this year, instead of bitching about bitchy shit, I just need to be winning-er. Being super win-y will make my shit crap health issues suck less by comparison. Especially if I become not poor while winning.

So let's start with the Shorty Awards under the category of blogging, because they didn't have a category for blarging, and I am nothing if not flexible.
Just scoot on over to this link (I imagine you should have a twitter account but why not try anyway) [link redacted] and tell them why I am the best blarger that ever lived (I stress "blarger."  I'm the only one, right? Or the original, at least? It should be easy to say I am the best without feeling like you are lying).

Then I seriously need to get this friggen celebrity endorsement, even if I need to become a celebrity myself and then do my own endorsement. It doesn't work that way does it? Well, I'll figure it out.


Point is, if I want my life to not be ruled by sucky aspects, I am gonna have to take it by the flappy bits and and shake it and say "HEY LIFE, STOP SUCKING. Health is not the only thing around. There's also internet awards, and celebrities who may someday pay attention to you, and  Bacon Jerky. And there are readers who give a shit and will be okay if you can't draw all the time, and frosting, and THESE FLOORS ARE DIRTY AS HELL AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!" At which point I imagine people will just stare at me and crickets will chirp, because UHF is a highly underrated movie.