So There's This Thing, Or Something. And There's No Cash Prize. But I Get a Tiara, Right?

So my blogger-buddy The Jeneral got an award for having a kick-ass blog (which she does). And I've just been in a black funk about it, especially since she nominated several other blogs for the same award but not mine. And you know, I thought we had something. Something real. Something almost-but-not-quite-Sapphic.

I could totally never be a lesbian.
Women can be such bitches.

Anyway, then the Jeneral said she didn't nominate me because she thought I already had one of these awards on my groaning trophy shelf, so she went ahead and added me to her list and now I'm happy in the pathetic approval-seeking way that characterizes so much of my happiness that doesn't directly involve vodka.

And possibly that's a run-on sentence. I don't know, I'm on a roll and have no time for editing.

This has nothing to do with editing. But OMG! Look!

The award-thingy is called a "Liebster." I don't know anything about it. I'm pretty sure it's like one of those "Who's Who" listings they "award" you via mass mailing in exchange for lots of money. But I really don't know. It could be more like the Nobel Prize, in which case, woo-hoo! Because those come with money and a bitching medal.

Artist's rendering.

Also, I don't know if I now have a Liebster because the Jeneral says so, or if I have to go through a grueling vetting process that involves singing in front of Cee-Lo Green. I may be over-thinking this whole thing.

Anyway, one of the things the Jeneralissmo had to do was answer some questions posed by the person who gave her the award and then formulate some questions for the people she's giving the award to...maybe, I just don't understand. BUT HERE'S THE POINT. I've been doing some technical writing this morning and I'm tired of doing that, so I'm going to answer Jen's questions instead because I'm easily distracted.

Then I guess I have them notarized and send them to the Elie Weisel Institute for review. I have to check into that. Or something.

OK.

11 Questions for wieners from The Jeneral:

1. What is the first thing you would do in the event of a Zombie Apocolypse?
Get on the roof. Because zombies are like Daleks and can't climb, right? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's right.

2. If you were stranded on an island and could only take 3 things with you, what would they be?
Beloved Spouse always says he'd bring a book called "How to Get Off a Desert Island," but I think that's cheating. I'd bring the three oldest Jonas Brothers. But I'd be all over Kevin and the other two (Frankie and Eli, or whatever their names are) would be jealous and would build me a house and a bamboo-pedal-car and shit to try to get my attention. This scenario is totally plausible.

3.  What would you do if I showed up at your house in a chicken suit with a potato gun and asked if you could come out to play?
Oooh, sorry, I'd call the cops. But if you showed up in a potato suit with a chicken gun, that's a whole 'nother story.

4. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be, and why? (Or not why. Some things are self-explanatory.)
I'd have a stronger gag reflex, because I'm a complete failure at being bulimic.

5. If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be, and why?
I'd return monkeys to North America. Because I like monkeys.

6. What’s your favorite thing about writing a blog?
Not being driven crazy by my unexpressed thoughts and putting a gun in my mouth is kind of cool.

7. What is your favorite food?
Pizza. That's kind of boring, I guess. But holy shit, I love pizza.

8. If you had one super power, what would it be?
X-ray vision, duh. And not just so I could see wieners. So I could see which scratch-off lottery tickets were winners. And also wieners.

9. Do you reheat leftover pizza, or eat it cold?
Yes.

10. If I asked you really nicely and offered you my favorite pen, would you give me your pants?
I'd have to see the pen first. But yeah, probably.

11. Coming up with 11 random questions is hard. If you were me, what would you ask you? Please do that here and then answer it.
I (you) would ask you (me) if you (you) and I (me?)...wait, what? Let me try that again: Can I have your pants?

There. I don't know what happens now. I'm confused and scared. But I think I might be on the Presidential ballot in several states as a result of all this. So, uh, vote for me. Or the Jeneral. Or the black guy. Because he'd give you his pants if you asked nicely.