Boy Genius is riding high on I-told-you-so at the moment. We’ve been arguing for months about whether or not anyone is interested in my riding and, apparently, he was right. People are interested in following along.
If only out of morbid curiosity.
They think I’m kidding when I talk about Wonder Pony’s allergic reaction to regular metal bits. They think it’s funny that she has to have imported German silver. I can assure you I’m not kidding. And BG doesn’t think it’s funny when we have to eat with my parents because I spent grocery money on Tempi’s massage therapist.
Again.
But because some of you were really fascinated by the idea of becoming a HOE, I thought I’d pass along some of the things my friends are buying…and, if I can get BG to go out of town again,...
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Hi everyone, I'm blogging at Epic Reads today! Find me (haha) here:
No offense taken. I've never heard of you, either.
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So a coworker of mine wants to enroll her kid in riding lessons and came to me for advice. Not the “where should I take little Kingston Yale,” but the “so tell me what having horses is really like!”
Usually, this elicits an awkward silence and expression that can only be described as a hemorrhoid grimace on my part. But, because my workspace is next to the office’s only bathroom and one of our project managers has either epic diarrhea or an alien crawling out of his ass, I welcomed the diversion.
Riding, I said, is like a religious calling. By signing up precious Aurora Jade, you’re enrolling her in the Holy Order of Equestrians.
Vow of Poverty. Self-explanatory to any horseperson, but civilians must be convinced that when four-legged income drain, Fahvenpoughkeepsie (pronounced...
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If I die and go to hell (which is a given if you ask my in-laws), I will probably end up spending eternity working on my dreadful second word child. Of course, “working” is a bit of a stretch when it comes to the damn thing. Shredding my fingernails while glaring at my computer screen is a better description. Word Child and I loathe each other right now.
And what’s with that anyway? How did an idea that started out all “Oh wow! I totally, totally want to write that!!” turn into “Book, I will set you ablaze. Don’t think I won’t. BG has already started the fire in the backyard.”
Heh. And people said there were no advantages to being married to an amateur arsonist.
Anyway. People also said I needed to try a different place to write. Mix it up, they said. Some of them...
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Think of the act of branding like shopping. Yeah, got your attention didn’t I?! When shopping for clothes you have in mind what they are for. An outfit is a specific combination of pants, shoes, tops, and accessories that are suited for the occasion. Suit and tie = work, sweat pants and tee = work out, jeans and a polo = casual. Think of a brand as an outfit and the clothes are just a specific combination of logos, words, type fonts, and colors.
Much like dressing yourself, the act of branding is essentially creating an identity for yourself and your work online. It is often overlooked, most likely because most people don’t realize this is the first impression everyone on the internet will have of you. So what do you wear? In this article I’ve quickly outlined what it takes to be dressed...
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Welcome to the first installment of POW (Partners of Writers). Today I want to share one of the easiest and cheapest ways to promote yourself by using your email’s signature line.
Think about it. How many emails do you send out a day? How many emails, pictures, or jokes do you forward? Why not use this to your advantage?
In the business world a signature line is common place, a lot of us often even skip the signature line at the end of the email since it is usually just boring lines of text with contact information. However, by simply adding links and images, the end of each of your emails becomes one of your most powerful self promotion tools. Here is how to do it with a Gmail email account:
How to create a Gmail signature with links and images:
Before we begin we need to prepare...
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Summer love, huh? Am I the only person who hears summer love and thinks “Eeew…sticky.” It must be a Georgia thing. They keep telling me “it taint the heat, it’s tha humidity.” But I still don’t believe them. The posts have been great though! We’ve talked about getting it on (in meteor showers no less), getting over it (when your summer fling fizzles), but what about getting even?
Yeah, yeah, I hear you, but we’re going to do it anyway. I’m like a freaking PSA over here. This is stuff you need to know.
If only so you can encourage your friends to do it.
So. What do you do when that sweet boy with pretty eyes turns out to be a tool? You make him pay.
Now, you could go all Taylor Swift and write a song about it. Or Elin Nordegren and take a golf club to his car,...
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Tempi’s in a mood these days. Between the vet-mandated diet (she looked ready to drop twins) and the climbing temperature (Tempi’s all black, if you know anything at all about Georgia that should say enough), the poor pony’s quality of life has taken a nose dive. Tempi knows someone around here is to blame and she’s pretty sure it’s me. I’m fine with that. We had a similar conversation two years ago when she moved down from the mountains of Ohio to live with me. Until that point, Tempi had only seen people from a distance and was used to snow and ice. Then I moved her.
To Georgia.
In June. Pony thought she had died and gone to hell.
Fast forward six months and I was climbing onto Tempi’s back, getting tossed into the air, and eventually onto the ground where Tempi would...
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I’m not sure if it’s a sign of arrival or imminent collision when a VP at your company swings through the cubicle ghetto to tell you how “great” it is that you’re getting published. I’m really not sure what to make of my reaction either. What should’ve been a pleasant, but forgettable exchange turned into a sweaty, stammery mess.
In other words, it was completely me and another example about why I should never be allowed out in public. How is it possible that I am smart enough to drive a car, read through a contract, and hold down a job…yet I never considered people were going to read my stuff? Even for me, that’s pretty asinine and, when I call something asinine, you can take it to the bank. I know about this stuff.
Now where was I?
Oh, yeah. I was melting down in my cubicle...
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For those of you who were lucky enough to avoid me last week, I have a new obsession. His name is Dominic, the Scary Birthday Clown, and parents are paying him to terrorize their children. No, seriously. I’m not making this up. Parents pay the guy to send their rug rats threatening texts and prank phone calls for a week before he nails the kid in the face with a pie.
I know, right? Therapists, start your billing. This should be good for at least a 5-series Beemer.
I thought the discovery was a seriously good score, like, make-yourself-feel-way-superior kind of score. I’ll be the first to admit I’d be a dreadful parent, but even I know this is not a good idea.
So, naturally, I showed everyone I could corner.
My coworkers were all, “Yeah, yeah, Rom, we get it. We’d also...
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