Mushi mushi,
A guest post from my lovely bloggy mate Katie. She writes over at No Missed Opportunities, and she'd love you to Follow her on Twitter. I mentioned her yesterday in my vlog, remember...? Katie's nuts. I love her. Excuse me while I curtsy.
Guest posting at a blog you love is an exhilarating mix of excitement and total fear.
First, excitement.
“Lori wants ME to guest post?”
Well, of course she does. After all, I am a wonderfully witty, deeply original, sensitive writer capable of moving the population to tears and laughter with just my words.
*Ahem* anyway, you start out excited. Flattered. Proud. You may or may not walk around your house with your chest puffed out saying things to your spouse such as:
In Australia, I’m kind of a big shot
And...
How many times have YOU been asked to guest post for Lori? Huh? (nothing) Yeah. That’s what I thought.
And....
Lori has asked me to guest post at RRSAHM so I am going to need complete silence to get my creative juices flowing. Um…is it possible for you to breathe quieter?(bewildered look) Make it happen.
And an extremely ill advised:
You know, LORI recognizes how insanely awesome I am. Would it kill you to curtsy in my presence?
This is when your spouse will get tired of your penchant of saying Lori’s name in 4 syllables and will snap back, “Gee your highness, maybe you should do less jaw flapping and do some actual BLOGGING. After all, Lo-o-o-ri is waiting.”
(no curtsy)
Touché.
Deflated, you sit, notebook in hand and write your list of possible topics
Trip to the foot doctor
Pretending to speak German with disastrous results
Hilarious captcha words
It’s not a rash
What I ate for lunch
Words I can spell
Seriously, if it’s not a rash, why am I so itchy?
Clearly, those will never work.
Excitement turns to gut wrenching fear.
Lori wants me to guest post? Why would I agree to that? I am so not worthy!
You brainstorm blogging possibilities all day and all night.
In the shower. At work. You don’t realize you are brainstorming out loud on the way to school until your son asks you what asparagus DOES have to do with the color of your pee.
(Collecting yourself, you give him the most scientific answer you can muster “We’re almost there. Ask your teacher.")
You scrutinize life for any and all blog fodder, determined to find a hidden jewel in your completely vanilla existence.
You read the newspapers, ready to comment-Jon Stewart like, of course-on politics or pop culture or world news.
Flu epidemic- hilarious
The economy- delightful
Oil spills- knee slapper
Um. No.
Just as you are about to give up, it hits you.
You sit and type and the words just flow out of you.
What you write is quite possibly the Best. Post. Ever.
Unfortunately, it also happens to be identical to one you had read a half hour earlier when you were reading through your blogroll.
Ugh. Plagiarism.
Obviously beaten, you draft this email:
Dear Lori,
While I appreciate the opportunity to guest post on your blog, I have nothing funny to write or to say. My life is meaningless, and my livelihood is gone. Thus, I regret to inform you that I must respectfully decline your offer. That being said, seeing as how my sense of humor no longer exists, I do qualify for a job with the IRS so not all is lost…
Katie (The wet blanket)
THAT, friends, is why I will not be guest posting today.
Er...oh wait...
