Shameless Self-Promotion

I’m pretty wiped out from a long week of whatever the fuck it is I do, and usually when that happens I post strange, disturbing videos like the one where Oprah unhinged her law and ate a Vietnamese baby whole. But instead of doing that, I’m going to take this opportunity to remind everyone that voting is open for a couple more days over at the 2013 Bloggies, and also that Dogs on Drugs is up for Best Writing, and good pal Vesta Vayne’s blog The Cowardly Feminist is up for Blog o’ the Year. Get on over there and vote. If you’ve already voted once, honestly, show a little effort, would you? There are dead people in Chicago who vote more often than that.

Someone asked me in an email how excited I would be if I won. I’ll be honest with you, it would be nice, but I don’t write this blog for awards. I write it to get ungodly amounts of poon-tang. (I’ll let you know when that starts happening.) So win or lose, I’m not going to go too crazy. I was nominated for Best Kept Secret Weblog last year but lost, and you know what? Life went on. (Barely. The hospital staff said they’d never seen anyone survive taking that many Xanax before, especially with two slit wrists.)

I’ve also been asked to promise more things in the unlikely event that voters take a sudden liking to the f-word and I happen to win. Okey-fucking-doke, here we go… If I win, I promise…

• I will open the comments section to personal questions and answer all of them. Half of my answers will be truthful, although I won’t tell you which half.
• I will take a dump on my former mother-in-law’s front doorstep. (This will probably happen regardless of how the voting turns out.)
• As a sign of friendship, or possibly a sign that I’ve gone off my meds, I will mail a rutabaga to the new pope.

All right, I’m too exhausted to write any more. I give up. Here’s your mind-crippling weirdness video of the week:

Postscript: While looking for a voting booth photo to use in this post, I decided that I need to have a bucket list solely so I can add “Have sex in a voting booth” to it. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but there you have it.