Over numbers
Unencumbered numbered words
Hundreds of pages, pages, pages for words
More words than I had ever heard and I feel so alive
-- Jason Mraz

So this guy I work with came in my office this morning and randomly started talking about blogs. He asked, “So, do you blog much, or read blogs much?” I completely ignored the first part of the question and said, “Yeah, I read a few blogs, but pretty much only my friend’s blogs.” He then showed me a magazine cover with the headline, “Man makes $55K a day by blogging for 3 hours.” He said he was going to study up and see how he could get in on that action. He said, “Yeah, those personal blogs just crack me up. I mean, it’s like reading a bunch of high school kids’ journals and notes to their friends. And they think it’s so good but it’s just this elementary drivel with crap like a poem they wrote for their dog.” Then he exited.

Ah, well, it’s his opinion and he’s entitled to it, right? And I sure as heck wasn’t about to let him know that I have a blog of my very own. The horror of that thought. Oh wait, what if he does know and was saying all of that as a test? A test to see if I would reveal my secret corner of the web where I post my own angst, whinings, amusings and teenage drivel?? Whatever shall I do? (and I am well aware that I made up 2 words, thank you very much, “I can be lacubrious with you.”) And amydabbs.com isn’t the most “secret” url ever, is it?

Why do you all come here and read this crap?? I mean, really? Is it just because you know me or because maybe you know someone who knows me? Or what’s the deal? For me personally, I post as a form of catharsis. I need to get this crap out of my head, if, in the mean time, it entertains, amuses, provokes, enrages or just makes someone emote on some level, then so be it. Self expression is a beautiful thing (ok, wait, all of you that may be reading too much into that, you know what I mean). For me, posting burns away the dross – sort of like a Don Henley song, “You keep carrying around that anger, it’ll eat you up inside.” And I truly believe that. I’ve spent the past 2 ½ business days wanting to post with the title, “Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies” and then delve into a deeply protected part of my brain where all the crazy lives – like how lies, however minor and insignificant, incite me to the point of rage. Similar to how certain inappropriate dinner table conversation incites me to the point of rage. Anyway, I hesitated and decided to not post it for numerous reasons. The site is no longer pure, kids, I hate to tell you. Now I think before I post because I never know who is reading and I wouldn’t want to cause any friction of any sort or kind (and yes that dinner comment was for you, Grace and you know it and so does everyone else, ha!).

So, what exactly were we talking about? Oh yeah, right, blogs in general. Please don’t think that I am so self important that I keep a site solely for the purpose of my own amusement. Oh no, wait, that’s exactly why I keep it – for my own amusement – it doesn’t mean I have an unhealthy ego or consider myself to be some type of important person that people should read my nonsensical banter, it’s all about the fun, baby. Y’all keep reading, you hear??

dabbs

see me die
than to see me fly
-- P. Diddy, Mase and Notorious BIG

I survived after all -- despite all of the ominous warnings from P Diddy and everyone over at MTV, VH-1 and BET – trying to persuade me to “Vote or Die.” I’m still breathing. I didn’t exercise my right yesterday due to various paperwork and other issues that I won’t get into (because you know that I loathe talking politics). But I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder all day…

First there were the zealous wearers of the “I voted” stickers in the office. Each one stopped by my door to chat, but I knew their ulterior motive, to see if I, too, had the sticker. I escaped having to offer an explanation except to one person on my hall. And that turned out ok because she didn’t look at me disapprovingly or pull out a gat and cap my non-voting ass.

But I was still nervous… in an attempt to sway karma in my favor (and for the record, I don’t believe in karma), I proceeded to rev up my Windows Media player with what I call the “Hip Hop Mix.” I chose this mix because it contains several cuts from Bad Boy’s Greatest Hits album. Come on P Diddy – are you feeling me, man?

And P Diddy answered at 5 p.m. yesterday when I flipped on the BET. (What up 106 and Park, y’all! Represent! Your white asses need to be watching this shit, for real). There he was – in full on voting regalia. The crowd was chanting and pumping fists in the air, “VOTE OR DIE, VOTE OR DIE.” Suddenly, my head began to ache. Diddy looks right at me and says, “You ain’t got no excuse, the polls ain’t close yet, get out there now and vote or die.” I would, Diddy, but you see, I am registered in my hometown – I can’t vote this time… The crowd reaches a fevered pitch: “VOTE OR DIE, VOTE OR DIE!!” I break out into a sweat and flip over to catch a rerun of “Friends” before I pass out in fear.

I was awakened by a noise at 11:30 and as I peered out from under my blanket, I half expected to see some MTV/BET posse lead by the super obnoxious, way too damn old to be on MTV Kurt Loder and Diddy himself. But fortunately, they are probably too busy kicking every ass under 30 in the state of Ohio to worry about one little vote in our state, right? RIGHT????