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Bloggers for Movember 2013 Begins!

Last year was an incredible year in the blogging world. Almighty Le Clown put together Bloggers for Movember which brought bloggers together for an amazing cause and allowed us to share our experiences with men’s health issues while supporting the worldwide movement that is Movember.  It was also my very first big blogging collaboration, which connected me with a slew of incredible people and bloggers and gave me the motivation and confidence to dive into so many other projects.

bloggers for movember

The infamous Jackstache of BFM 2012

So this year, I am taking the reigns of Blogger for Movember. I have a very important story I’d like to tell about the importance of muscling through those screenings and check ups, but for today, the official 1st day of Movember, I’d like to start by handling a few orders of business.

1. The new Bloggers for Movember 2013 team is set up and ready to go. All you need to do to join in on the campaign is visit the official team page, click join, and follow the instructions. You are now an official member of a special team of bloggers that are out to make the world a little better by creating awareness for men’s health issues. You don’t have to donate, but of course it is encouraged!

2. Shave it all off! If you haven’t done so already, it’s time to bust out your sharpest razor and revert back to your baby face. Mustache growing contests are yet another way to have some fun and support the cause. If you can’t grow a Mo, slap on a fake one (see aforementioned Jackstache).  Keeping the world up to date on your lip brow is a great way to direct people to join us all in the glory of Movember, so keep the pictures coming. Post updates on your blog, Facebook, and Twitter! And be sure to submit them to the BFM Facebook page by e-mailing me at Cord.Rebecca@gmail.com. Be sure to Like the Facebook page while you are at it!

3. We need more than team members and donations. We need stories. We need to offer what we do best. We need to write. One of the most amazing things about BFM 2012 was how many people had something to share in regards to their experiences with men’s health in general, prostate and testicular cancer, mental heath, and much more. I know there are more people out there who’s stories could possibly help save someone’s life. So let’s get to sharing! If you have a post you would like to dedicate to BFM 2013, please send the link to me at Cord.Rebecca@gmail.com so that I can share it on the BFM Facebook page and in update posts right here on 25toFly.

November will be dedicated to nothing but BFM 2013 here on 25toFly. Let’s do this MoBros and MoSistas! I’m ready to blow this year’s campaign out of the water. If you would like to join me and this years behind the scenes team, or have any ideas regarding the campaign, please let me know in the comments or by e-mail. 

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New Toy

I haven’t been writing.

This time I am not going to blame writer’s block. I am not even going to blame my blog for taking over and bashing the hell out of me. Actually, I don’t even feel guilty for not writing at this point…

This time, the writing is being vetoed by a much powerful force. I have purchased a new toy. I spent hours in bed with it this weekend to the point of exhaustion. There will certainly be a significant amount of embarrassment upon my next encounter with my neighbors, for they surely overheard my shrieks of  excitement and enjoyment. Even Jack subtly exited the room on several occasions as if  even he was embarrassed for me. I practically needed a “do not disturb” sign.

Whoa. I know you all have your minds on peen today (thanks Clown man), but what kind of gal do you take me for? I am talking about my new HD Webcam and accompanying movie editing software. I have many ideas swarming in my mind right now that it is hard for me to wrangle them all and put them into manageable cubbyholes in my mind. So for now, you can just watch me play with my new toy for about fifteen seconds. After all, that’s about how long it takes to get anyone off, right?

Please note: I am no longer just a pixel of your imagination. There will be much more to come once I master this thing.

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Can Clowns Hire Clowns for Their Birthday Parties?

Or would that just get weird. Like a stripper hiring a stripper?

Le Clown, Eric, friend. Here is a haiku on your birthday, because Jack made me.

If Jack’s name was said

With a G instead of J

His name would be Gack

gack

So gangster

gak

Or more like this.

If you don’t know what actual Gak is, you should definitely scour E-bay for some. It is the ultimate birthday toy  to provide you with hours of good clean fun. Or dirty fun. Who am I to tell anyone what they should do with their Gak? I always enjoyed making fart noises with mine.

Le Clown, Eric, friend. On this very special birthday of yours, you seek to unlock a special post. You have done uncountable favors for me, La Becca, and never was it even close to being my birthday. So, for that I am forever indebted and will proudly help guide you to the next step in your journey.

Here are some hints about the blog that you seek next. I do not have cable, thus this gal’s blog keeps me up to date on important news like what is happening on The Bachelor. I don’t know how I would go on without the service she provides me, provides us. It took me an unacceptably long time to figure out that this particular blogger was actually a female. Once I did, I liked her blog all the more.

She is one of your top blogroll members, and she comes with a weird handsome sidekick torso thing.

Now go find the droids you were looking for. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!

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Let’s Make a Deal

Three orders of business today puppets:

1. A major thank you is due to Le Clown yet again for being my hero. He is the mastermind behind taking what started as a photography experiment and turning it into the outstanding piece of banner you see at the top of my page. What you see today is the final product of much work. And he did it through a drug haze. Let’s all show him extra love today.

2. Speaking of Le Clown, there is an important post today on his second blog Black Box Warnings. It’s important, because I wrote it. It is also important, because it was not easy. I struggled with how to write this post. I beat myself up for not being able to pull out the serious. I avoided it like it was an army of bullfrogs. If you don’t know I hate frogs, you do now. But I prevailed. So please, check it out. If you love me you will (said the abusive guilt tripping blogger).

3. More guilt tripping. If you missed my post and vlog yesterday, you need to stop slacking and go read/watch it, because I was kind of sort of maybe really definitely proud of it.

Enjoy!

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You Are Not Alone

Some things happened yesterday while I was practicing all of my rebellious apocalyptic antics. Terrifying things, then hilarious things, then sheer miraculous things. The world gave me what I assumed were three parting gifts.

Gift #1

I could have used my words to describe this present. I could have eloquently explained the horror upon horror I stepped in found awaiting me around every corner of my apartment yesterday. But instead, I took photos of it for you.

cat puke

Casts love to get high on ipecac.

Why would this happen? Why would Ace or Jack or both of them have a vomit marathon? I wanted to be furious. I wanted to stop gagging. I wanted to quit cleaning it up. After all, the world was supposed to end, so  I thought, “what’s the point”. That’s when I realized it. The felines must have read my post from yesterday and decided to give all of their fucks away… on every surface of my apartment. It was my own fault.

Gift # 2

Once I successfully scraped up all of that plastered puke, I needed to get out in the fresh air and find dinner. But, the first step to anything is checking Facebook. So that is what I did. There he was. Le Clown again, being all savior like. He successfully saved me from my kitty bile induced melancholy with one of his masterly constructed and equally hilarious secular Xmas cards.

le clown secular chrismas

Someone bring me a Zippo. HURRY.

If cancer isn’t real, then where did all that Movember money go? Busted, Le Clown! I know you used that nice chunk of change to stock up on Astroglide. Alas, I can never stay mad at you. Thank you for being you, Jesus Clown Super Star On Fire.

Gift # 3 Read the rest of this entry

Best Monday Ever

Why? This is why:

  • The Movember Winners Banner is finished and revealed. See above. It is better than I ever imagined.
  • The accompanying Movember 2012 page is complete. Winners can go bask in their glory.
  • It rained this morning, and I actually had an umbrella on me … for once.
  • I get to be La Becca for one whole week of A Becca on Fire on Le Clown’s blog.
  • Did you read the last bullet point?!

I will still be working on the Fly Blog Award, I didn’t forget. But when you are on fire, it’s hard to concentrate.

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This is My Festivus Post

The last time that I participated in any kind of gift exchanging game for Christmas was on a first date. Can you imagine that? You don’t have to. I will tell you how it goes. If you are me, that is.

awkward christmas

Holidays aren’t holidays until things get uncomfortable.

My date picked me up for dinner somewhere back in December of 2008. We were supposed to go to a simple dinner. Me and him. On the way to the restaurant, he receives a phone call, which he takes, and has a casual conversation from which I infer that plans are about to change.

Date: “That was my mom. My family is having a Christmas party down the road. Do you want to go? It will be fun”.

Sure, I love meeting entire families on first dates. 

Me: “Umm… I don’t know, I mean, I don’t want to intrude. They don’t know me.”

You barely know me.

Date: “Oh come on. They are super friendly. They will love you. There will be a lot of great food and presents.”

Me: “Presents?”

Date: “Yeah, they play Dirty Santa every year at this thing.”

As we continued down the highway, the dialogue went back and forth between him assuring me it wouldn’t be awkward and me trying to find a way to escape the moving car without looking obvious. Or killing myself. We ended up going, because I have an adverse reaction to telling people no, and guess what? It was awkward. Imagine that. Read the rest of this entry

Emotions: How Do They Work?

I don’t know if it is all of the lovely comments I received on yesterday’s post, the fact that Le Clown tried to help my wasteland Facebook page last night, or the fact that I stopped killing people with fiber wire for a few days, but I am a tad bit… emotional.

First, I heard about this story this morning on the radio.

dr. house it's not cancer

Word

If you are too lazy to read it, the gist of the story is that a principal gave two boys the option of holding hands for a while or suspension in response to their misconduct of fighting. I missed the first half of the story on the radio stating what the boys were in trouble for, so initially I couldn’t help but think, “Well that sounds like a punishment pulled right out of the homophobia jar”. It made me feel a bit dejected. Then I caught the full story and felt all merry and stuff. The boys were fighting. I believe that holding hands wasn’t a punishment, but  rather an opportunity to teach the kids a lesson of humanity. A kiss and make up kind of thing. Whether or not I am right or wrong, I will be running around with the can’t-we-all-just-get-along sentiment for the rest of the day.

Then, as if my eyes weren’t already swollen shut, the radio station announced an opportunity to see real snow here in south Louisiana where I am still wearing shorts and an ankle bracelet in the middle of December. Yes, they are apparently going to fill a part of town with “real” snow. I mean, I was wigging out with happy because of the snow on WordPress, but now they are manifesting the real stuff in the middle of my seventy-degrees-and-sunny town. The logistics of this event are still baffling my sensitive little mind, but who cares about logic when there is poorly frozen precipitation?

After I regained composure, and arrived to work right on time, then and only then did I promptly realize that my pants were ripped in a not so subtle area. It was too late to go home and change. Naturally. Sheer coincidence or life’s impeccable comedic timing? You tell me.

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