When I started writing this blog one year ago I was not exactly sure what it was going to be. All I knew was that I wanted to start writing again and blogging seemed like the easiest way to do it. But things had changed enormously since my old alternative rock magazine days (RIP Cake) where fanzines like Fat Greg Dulli and music mags like Cake were a dime a dozen and anyone with a computer or a friend who worked at Kinko’s could print out a whole slew of them and hand them out at clubs and bars. Print and grunge was where it was at in the early nineties and the internet was barely a twinkle in Al Gore’s eyes because he still had Tipper by his side and no inconvenient truths to worry about yet.
Well, the internet no longer has that new car smell but digital content is still where it is at these days. Blogging has made lots of people lots of money but could it do the very same for me? Could it allow me to fulfill my fantasy of quitting my day job to stay at home in my comfy pants with two very unhelpful cat assistants to dream up silly listicles all day long? Could my unrequited love of all things sloth, the notorious Ruth “I drank too much wine and slept through the state of the union” Bader Ginsburg and frozen margaritas on a stick appeal to more than just my closest friends and family? I am happy to say the answer to those questions is a resounding yes. This little ol’ blog of mine has been read by actual human beings in over nineteen countries on six continents (get with the program Antarctica!) with only one or two of them possibly being hackers out to steal my identity. (Russia does have some of the best cat videos on the internets, so maybe they just like my affinity for felines on film?) Doesn’t really matter because I can say with all honesty that Oh-Amy is read globally and my debit card still gets accepted at Target so we are all good. Oh, and I have a perfect passenger rating on Lyft:
When people ask me what this blog is about I am never quite sure how to respond. It’s kind of like the old Seinfeld show, it’s about nothing and is up to you dear readers, to decide where or not it’s sponge-worthy to you. (I say it is but then again I am a bit biased.) In fact it is kind of easier to say what Oh-Amy isn’t. It isn’t a mommy blog because that would be weird, not having any human children and all, and it’s not a lifestyle blog even though I am alive and rather like style although on blogging days like today you might not be able to tell.
My daylight savings time resolution was to post at least every other week and so far, like my New Year’s resolution to know how much money I have in my checking account at least once in 2015, it has fallen by the wayside, but as a blogiversary present to myself (and hopefully to y’all as well) I am going to try my darndest to make that happen, the regular blogging promise thing because the checking account thing is probably not gonna happen, maybe next year.
So if you like sloths, weird European episodic television shows on Netflix, pandas that can out-act half of Hollywood than stick around and let’s see what the next year brings and you can rest assured that despite my dreams of actually making some cold hard cash off of this thing I could never pull a fast one like that Whole Pantry lady in Australia. Belle ” I’ve always been raised as being currently a 26-year-old” Gibson is all sorts of Michele Bachmann-level crazy but I do kinda admire her inability to admit to knowing her real age because I would like to not know mine lots of times. Belle and the not-at-all-black Rachel Dolezal should schedule a play date together real soon (before Belle goes to prison) so they could braid each other’s hair and cook some cancer-curing recipes from Belle’s-no-longer-available-anywhere-cookbook all the while trying to out-Munchausen Syndrome the other. (My money is on the one destined for the pokey.)
So, even though I am not a mommy blogger, I do have some parenting advice to share. Please don’t tell your children they are good at everything because they are not, and if you don’t tell them that when they are young and can take it, well then the rest of the world has to suffer, see exhibit A below. Now I am not entirely sure what Mr. ALL CAPS Kanye West is good at, but I do know what he is terrible at, and that my friends, is singing.