Tag Archives: birthday

Added Value

I’ve heard it said that in order to “build your brand” and become a bighugeimportantblogger that you should always make sure that your readers are given every opportunity to know about every minute thing that you’ve ever done in your Internet life.

So even though I’m a tiny little peon in the blogging world, I figured it was verysuperimportant that I send out a newsletter to my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!) In it you will find a recap of things that happened “behind the scenes”—added value!

  • First we’ll take a look at the minutes recorded from the first executive “Abby Has Issues” post planning and self-promotional tour meeting. What’s that? I’m being told we neither recorded minutes nor held that meeting, so we can cross that one off the list!
  • Speaking of lists, it was proposed that changing a “to-do” list to a “suggestions to be considered” list could leave one feeling more optimistic. This was immediately approved and implemented.
  • There was an unfortunate incident involving the vacuum and a cat toy. Long story short, I’m not winning “Cat Mom of the Year.” In an effort to reverse any bad karma, I spent the better part of that night leaving inspirational notes around for the cat: “You WILL catch that red dot” and “Hairballs happen to everyone!”
  • There was also trauma when I found a pile of feathers under my feeder when I got home from work. Let this be a reminder to hug your wild birds a little bit tighter tonight.
  • An ethnic cooking demonstration was given in the kitchen, if by “ethnic” you mean “Cajun” and by “Cajun” you mean “burned.”On a related note, the smoke detector is in perfect working condition.
  • An evaluation of laundry on Sunday revealed another pretty big week for gray T-shirts and white sports socks, so keep up the good work!
  • In terms of relationship status, the last two things I’ve spooned were a pillow and a jar of sunflower seed butter. However, Hot Gym Guy, obviously smitten by the smell of garlic emanating from my pores, asked me if I, “was done with that bench.” I might be reading a bit too much into it, but I’m sending out wedding invitations next week.
  • Oh, and I also overheard a 20-year-old girl at the gym say, “I feel so old!” The crime scene is still under investigation, so if anyone asks I was here the whole time.
  • Things did perk up though when I saw a guy pushing a “pull” door several times. Instead of helping him, I said, “Never give up. Don’t let anyone tell you how to live.” He was quite an inspiration.
  • I celebrated a birthday and capped off the evening by going to the grocery store, because hey! It was my birthday! And because it was Thursday. I always go to the store on Thursday.
  • On the work front, it was business as usual. I made it until lunch every day without eating my lunch before lunch, so I would consider this week to have been a success.
  • However, my attempts to “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have” were frowned upon. Apparently showing up in a tiara and tutu isn’t quite what they meant. The policy has since been changed.

I think that pretty much sums things up—at least the most important points—so stay tuned for future updates! After all, you don’t want to miss a thing!

Like the blog?  “Buy the Books”

(I updated the tab to include the new best-seller, a book I’m totally mooching off the success of the other authors with. Thanks to everyone for their support!)

Get in Shape, (Birthday) Girl!

Today I was planning on sharing a post in which I present to you an Eminem rap with a vegan slant, but you’re going to have to wait for my debut as Veginem for two reasons:

1.) I got a surprise invitation to hop back over to the Powder Room to talk about my extensive experience as a youthful “Get In Shape, Girl!” instructor. Apparently my first visit over there didn’t scare them away because I was invited back, so I’ll polish up my ghetto lyrics this weekend and you can read about Lyrca instead.


2.) It’s my birthday today so I can do whatever I want, which is basically to pretend it’s not my birthday. But a fun fact is that I was born on 8-1-81 and weighed 8lbs 1 oz. In other words, I was totally OCD from the womb.


Crown. Food. Not much has changed.

But as the birthday girl I’m going to be bossy and tell you to head over to the Powder Room and read my post, check back here soon for my tentative debut as a vegan Polish rapper and maybe buy my book if you need a nice coaster, doorstop or something to read on the crapper.

And if you want to get me a gift, my favorite flower is pesto pizza.

Peace out, yo. (Sorry. Just practicing.)

Happy Birthday to my Mom

My mom’s birthday is this weekend and even though she hates to make a big deal out of things, I refuse to let the day go by without stressing over the fact that I want her to have a good day.


So I baked her the cupcakes I bake her every year—on Tuesday—just so she could enjoy them all week. I also gave her one of her cards already and she kind of knows what she’s getting for a present, only because once I actually have the gift, I have a hard time holding on to it.

But since she reads this blog, I decided to give her a little birthday poem as one more thing to add to her birthday list. So without further ado:

Many years ago you came out grandma’s lady parts,

With five loud boys already they were thrilled with all their hearts.

Finally! A girl this time! And born on Father’s Day!

Grandpa was so thrilled that it had all worked out that way.

Little did they know that Kathy was a wild one.

Catholic school and church had little impact on your fun.

But you made it through and married and got pregnant one fall night.

Bringing me into the world, a freaking ray of light. 


Now we drive each other crazy but a “crazy” that we get.

With drunken nuns and shopping trips that we can’t soon forget.

You’ve always done so much for me despite your daily pain,

and you rarely throw things back at me when I’m acting insane.

Then there are the emails and the texts you send each day,

To tell me that the ass of your old jeans has ripped away. 

Or sometimes just to update me on ballgame scores and such,

and send me links to baby sloths you know I love so much.

My point is that you’ve played the role of both my mom and dad,

Teaching me to give more than I ever thought I had.

So even though you hate a fuss and frankly, I do too.

Enjoy your cupcakes and your gifts, perhaps a beer or two.

As for cards, I found the one you needed in your hand.


For those of you who read this post, I know you’ll understand.

Happy Birthday (week) Mom!

Like the blog? Buy the book.

Do you request any special food or treats for your birthday?

Let’s Plan My Mid-life Crisis

My 30th birthday is next month and before you ask, no, I do not have any wild and crazy plans to commemorate this momentous occasion. I love celebrating birthdays—or random Wednesdays—but I’m not into celebrating my own.

So now that I’ve put the kabosh on the surprise party you had planned for me, let’s move on to the bigger issue—the midlife crisis I am planning.


For the record, I do not plan on growing an Afro.

I’m not sure who decided that 50 was the age when it a midlife crisis was expected to happen.  That’s being awfully presumptuous, as not that many people  live to be 100 and have Williard Scott  put their picture on the side of a Smucker’s jelly jar, butcher their name and wish them a Happy Birthday.

Considering my propensity for falling up stairs and landing on the one needle in a haystack, I’ll be lucky to make it to 50. So even though I don’t want to tempt fate, I’ve optimistically decided to be proactive and use 30 as my mid-life marker.

If I make it to 60, then I can look back at how I was able to accurately cash in on the whole thing. If I make it past 60, then I’m really considered and overachiever and everything else is just icing on the (birthday) cake.

It makes perfect sense to me, but then again, so does only buying clothes that will never need ironing.

Anyway, I’ve been doing a little observational research, and I’ve found that in order to have this mid-life crisis I’m supposed to do one or all of the things listed below. I haven’t quite worked out the details yet, but your suggestions would be most appreciated as soon as possible.

After all, I’m not getting any younger.

Midlife Crisis To-Do List

While purple is my favorite color, I need to adopt a love of yellow and buy expensive yellow things. My research has shown that yellow sports cars and yellow motorcycles are the most common thing to purchase with money the mid-lifer doesn’t have.

I’m not into cars, but that’s okay because I’ve also noticed that yellow hair is an acceptable substitute. Male or female, yellow or platinum blond hair that previously wasn’t is a sure sign of youth and sends nothing but “I’m not having a midlife crisis and dying my hair out of desperation” vibes.


I’ve been platinum before, so this is an option to consider once again.

Change of Scenery

Through my research I’ve found that if I really want to do this crisis right, I have to quit my job and book a flight to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro. Despite semi-stable employment (and the possibility of additional car payments and salon visits,) I should throw caution to the wind and become one with an extreme challenge in a foreign country.

If I’m lucky and make it to the top, platinum blond hair blowing in the wind, this will evidently prove that I am still a free spirit and physically capable of pushing myself past the boundaries of normal people my age. This would probably be more impressive if I was actually of AARP status and not only 30, so it’s possible I should hold off on this until that point.

Hook It Up

I need to have an affair with someone either much older or much younger than me, and I’m torn about which way to go with this one.


If I go the cougar route and rob the cradle, I most certainly benefit from the physical aspects of this relationship. Plus, parading him out in public would be a nice boost to my ego.

However, if I rob the wealthy retirement home, I benefit from the Sugar Daddy aspectand physical demands would be limited to feeding him mechanically processed oat bran with a silver spoon and wiping his chin.

Both are probably looking for someone to take care of them, meaning I’ll most likely opt for my continued unrequited love affair with several professional athletes and Daniel Tosh.

Or get a plant.

Crisis Conclusion

I suppose another option is just to embrace my entrance into mid-life and complain about the weather, pretend not to hear people, go to bed early, choose veggies over beer, glare at loud children, refuse to join Twitter/gripe about how I miss “real” books and conversation, clip coupons every Sunday and then blog about all these mundane daily events in an attempt to keep my questionable sanity.

Oh crap.

It seems I’m ahead of my time…