ElizabethEsther.com

The 7 Stages of Blog Grief {a handy guide to pathetically freaking out all over the Internet}}

So, my blog went down sometime Friday afternoon (thank God it wasn't a Monday, am I right?). But THAT didn't prevent me from having a HUGE freak-out. 

In order to redeem my stupidity, I'm dissecting the 7 stages of blog grief for you. Just so you'll know what to expect when (NOT IF) your blog goes down.

1. Shock/Denial: when @adam_thedad tweeted me that he couldn't see my site. I was all taken aback. Hence, my brilliant response:

2. Calm, cool acceptance: it's time to notify everyone involved that yes, a tragic accident has occurred. Be professional. Use correct grammar.

3. Mood swings: even though you know it's not your fault and that the problem will probably get fixed, you start getting all irrational and worrying incessantly that nothing will ever be the same again.

4. Anger/Questioning Everything: if you find out that the problem is a result of a massive "malicious attack" on your host's company site,  just launch over the cliff into full-blown meltdown. Triple-tweet your distress (expect people to offer you cheese with your whine because OBVIOUSLY, lame "first-world" problems.).

5. Start crying literal tears about your virtual problem: your non-blog-reading husband is sure to COMPLETELY understand. 

6. Realize that you've just shot your "Christian witness" to, um, Hades. Clearly, you think too highly of yourself and your blog's importance. Also? You said damn in one of your tweets. Time to go to Confession. How do I explain a "blog" to a priest?

7. When your blog comes back online, act like a war just ended and you SURVIVED! Go around kissing everyone (virtually). Commit acts of random capitalization. Pretend you're Sally Field winning an Oscar. 

***Addendum, Disclaimers, ETC.***

The weirdest thing about all of this? It wasn't a fundie conspiracy to shut down my blog!
Also, I found out that some of you really DO love me. THANK YOU!
Lastly, my husband thinks I'm cute when I'm stressed out.

 But I'm really not interested in looking cute again. ANYTIME SOON.

And now that you have proof of my clinical insanity, why not join the fun by subscribing to my blog? :)

A Handy Guide to Being Annoying on Twitter {from someone who is annoying on Twitter}

1. Use a shot of your cleavage as your profile pics. Extra ewwwwww points if you're a married mom.

2. Send auto-direct messages to all your new followers. C'mon, are you really "super excited" about getting to know each new follower?

3.  Retweet everything.

4. Plug your product/book/blog incessantly.

5. Write chipper, cheesy, inspirational platitudes all day.

6. Share what you ate for lunch. Everyday.

7. Swear nonsensically. If you're gonna swear, it at least needs to make sense. Otherwise? Boring.

8. Pretend you're doing something we all know you're not really doing; ie. *baking a pie from scratch while tweeting this!*

9.  Be a celebrity like Demi Moore-Kutcher and post bikini and in-bed shots. (Oh, wait. I follow her! Nevermind! Tweet on Demi! Tweet on!)

10. Everytime there's an earthquake, predict the End is Near. Quote Scripture.

11. Take yourself very seriously.

12. Never reply to anyone. Just talk to yourself all day.

13. Ignore your direct messages.

14. Be all poetic and mysterious.

15. Be Mark Driscoll.

****MASSIVE DISCLAIMERS!****

• I am annoying on Twitter
• I take myself ver-wee, ver-wee, sewiously. Don't mess.
• Sometimes I ignore direct messages. Because sometimes I'm busy. Go figure.
• HOWEVER, I have never used a shot of my cleavage as a profile pic!
• FULL DISCLOSURE: because I have no cleavage.
• i plug my blog incessantly
• frankly, I don't know HOW THE H-E-double-hockey-sticks to use Twitter without being annoying
• but I like to pretend I know
• in other news, my 6th grader still wants to go to the dance.
• Help! What do I do? For reals! I was raised fundie! Dancing led straight to fornication! How do I do this???
• shall I chaperone with a loaded rifle? 

****ADDENDUM TO THE DISCLAIMERS!****

a.) there is no addendum, I just like that word.

***P.S. I love you** (wasn't that a great movie?)** also, I do love you!

DISCUSS!

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A Handy Guide to People Crapping on your Blog

Greetings, beloved. Since my time is limited today and I can't reply individually to each gracious, loving email, here are my answers to your burning questions! [NOTE: I am culling from multiple emails and deleted comments] 

1. Why did you delete my comment? I dunno. Maybe because it's my blog which means I get to delete whomever I want, whenever I want. Oh, da pow-ah!

2. Why DIDN'T you delete that comment? Shocking as it may seem, I actually have a life outside my blog. Also? I sleep at night. I get to the comments when I can. AND I DELETE--see #1. 

3. Oh, nice. Way to delete comments you don't like. Dude! Damned if I do, damned if I don't. But you're right. It's pretty unfair that on my blog I get to choose which comments I like and don't like. Next time, I'll ask for your permission.

4. I'm taking the time to write this email to tell you that you suck. Thanks for using your time so wisely.

5. I'm so disappointed in you, I expected more of a "Christian blogger." As my therapist says, expectations are a b!tch. They always let you down. One thing is true: as a "Christian blogger" I'm an #epicfail.

6. How dare you call names? You hypocrite! You moron! It's not over until somebody calls me a Nazi. Or a heretic going to Hell. 

7. You Nazi heretic! You're going to Hell! Ah, there we go!

8. I've read every single one of your posts for YEARS. I know ALL about you. Um. That's just CREEPY.

9. You disagree with me? You let OTHER COMMENTERS disagree with me? WHOSE THE BULLY NOW? HUH? HUH? You're perfectly right. People disagreeing with your position is EXACTLY the same as having your private, intimate moments streamed live over the Internet. Silly me.

10. I'll never, never, NEVER read your blog again! UNFOLLOW! So next month when I get another email from you about how much you disagree with me? I'll just pretend you only read my blog in your dreams.

11. You suck! Have a nice day. Ouch, my neck. Whiplash!

****disclaimers***

1. some of these excerpts have been changed to protect the guilty
2. I enjoy americano coffee--totally off-topic, but just thought you'd like to know
3. maybe I should start a sex advice column or something. that'll make peeps happy.
4. i've never claimed to be a "Christian blog." I'm a Christian who blogs. i fail at both. daily.
5. lastly, 
6. do you prefer cream or milk in your coffee? I'm trying to switch from 1/2 + 1/2 to 2% milk and DUDE, it's like almost impossible. I always feel like I'm missing out.

***FINAL DECREE****

as the sole, totalitarian owner of this blog, all comments are subject to meeeeeee!
DEAL wid it. 

 

Christian Zombie Bestsellers

Last night I was browsing through that rapidly vanishing species--a real bookstore--when I came across a book called: "Pride & Prejudice & Zombies."

I was all: Yeah, right, that'll never sell.

And then I saw "NYT bestseller" stamped on it. I almost fainted. Because WHO KNEW all it took to have an NYT Bestseller was to add the phrase "& Zombies" onto the end of a classic? So discouraging.

And yet. SO INSPIRING.

So, I got home and logged onto the Twitter. I started tweeting. And other people jumped in and we came up with this whole list of possible bestsellers! Christian bestsellers.

CHRISTIAN ZOMBIE BESTSELLERS, yo.

Dudes, you have to admit: this is pretty dang awesomeness.

Here are my top 20 favorites (my contributions don't have my name attached):

1. Created To Be His HelpMeat (from @Barbylynne)

2. I Ate His Left Behind (from@BrianMerritt)

3. The 5 Zombie Languages (from @Jennivieve)

4. I Kissed Purpose Driven Zombies Goodbye (from @mksteele)

5. The Cost of Disciple's Hips by Dietrich Brainhoffer (from @stevenguymcdade)

6. 7 Habits of Highly Effective Zombies

7. Desiring God & Zombies

8. My Utmost for His Hindquarters (from @BrianMerritt)

9. I Kissed Dating Goodbye But He Came Back From the Dead (from @3lisays)

10. Brains that Demand a Verdict (from @n8wide)

11. A Generous Zombiedoxy (from @wwabbit)

12. The Zombie Letters by C.S. Chewonus (from @n8wide)

13. Mere Zombieanity

14. The Zombie Conspiracy (from @tmorizot)

15. Ragamuffin Zombies (from @lorencklein)

16. Zombie, Thou Art Loosed! (from @lorencklein)

17. Fresh Flesh, Fresh Fire: a Zombie Pentecost (from @3lisays)

18. The Prayer of Jabez and Zombies (from @lorencklein)

19. Velvet Elvis Ate My Brain (from @cowpunkmom)

20. Are You Hungry, God? It's Me, Margaret (from @BrianMerritt)

You guys, I am SO re-writing my book. I'm calling it:

Eat, Pray, Love a Zombie:
how growing up inside a fundamentalist cult turned me into the walking dead

NYT bestseller, yes?

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subscribe. because i like brains.  

Tweeting For the Glory of God! {a handy guide to Biblical tweeting}

Dearly Beloved, we are gathered today to promote Biblical Tweeting on the Twitter. We believe in bringing every tweet captive to the mind of Christ. Additionally, we believe that every man must give an account for his tweets. (Women shouldn't even be tweeting because it usurps authority over a man, so we'll just ignore those Jezebels for now).

As is fitting and proper, all Bible references come from THE ONLY AUTHORIZED VERSION, the KJV.

1. Back up every tweet with a Bible verse. For example: "Time for family dinner! 1 Cor. 11:33 'when ye come together to eat, tarry one for another.'"

 2. Try to make it obvious that you're a narcissistic fame-monger; ie. "I challenge ANY church to match the spiritual maturity of any 500 members of my AWESOME church!"

3. Over-sell your upcoming worship service; ie. "This Sunday is going to be a profound, life-changing example of how God is moving in our church!"

4. We all know your children are wonderful examples, and it's needful to brag about them; ie. "My daughter choose to do a report on the book of Doctrine I wrote. PTL for godly seed!"

5. If you have a bazillion followers, quit ye like men and act like a martyr when you lose one or two; ie. "When people unfollow me, I know they're not disagreeing with me but with God."

6.  Please remember that you and Jesus are like totally the same; ie. "When people forsake my church, I know exactly how Jesus felt when His disciples forsook Him."

7. Threats of damnation are exceedingly useful, anything to get 'em into the kingdom, amen? ie., "If you struggle with p*rn, try putting a fire-hose in your face."

8. A hot, submissive wife who can find? Her Tworth is above rubies! ie., "Ladies in denim jumpers are hard to resist, so happy is he who has one!"

9. Give the impression that you think upon edifying, inspirational quotes all day; ie., "Feeling down? Attitude is everything! Rejoice in the Lord, ALWAYS!"

10. Send super-spiritual automatic direct messages to all new followers; ie., "Super blessed you followed me! Can't wait to encourage you in your walk! Buy my book?"

We, the trustees of Biblical Tweeting, do sincerely pray these suggestions edify and encourage you. Come back next week for: Biblical Twomanhood: a God-fearing woman's guide to Holy Tweeting.

**disclaimer! all tweets are fictional and any resemblance to real tweets by actual people is a STRICT coincidence. No, seriously. I'm serious. For reals. (Don't kill me, Pastor Mark Driscoll, k? I got mad cage-fighting skillz, yo)***

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The audassity of false advertising

Really, Arby's? Really? Because I was totally digging the picture of your juicy, pastrami sandwich until I saw the tagline: "Arby's: the healthy alternative to a burger."

Don't lie to me, Arby's. It hurts.

Because if a pastrami, bacon and cheddar sandwich is the healthy alternative to a burger then I'm the healthy alternative to an idiot.

I knows when peeps are trying to mess. And telling me a fat pastrami sandwich is a healthy alternative to ANY.THING. does not make me feel better about eating it.

Fact is, it makes me feel worse.

It's the same feeling I get when I go into the store to buy myself a shirt and the sales clerk falls all over herself exclaiming how hot are you in that blouse?!?!?!!!!!!, coincidentally, the MOST EXPENSIVE blouse in the store.

Do I really have SUCKER stamped on my forehead? 

This applies to people, too. I'm wary of folks who give an awesome first impression. I prefer stony indifference to hyped up niceness. It's more honest, somehow.

I can't tell you the relief when I visited New York City and was like: finally! A place where I don't have to smile and wave at every single passerby!

When some cab driver yelled GET THE $&%^# OUTTA DA WAY I just about fell to my knees in grateful tears and was all: Thank you! Thank you!

I've been bred to be nice. It's my default mode. It's just that sometimes, seeing people's true colors is refreshing.

It's probably the introvert in me that freaks out whenever extra-nicey people invade my space with their overwhelming gregariousness. I get all fidgety and suspicious because I can't help but think they want something from me.

I mean, I have good social skills. But I get all confused when extroverted people make false promises like: "I'll call you!" and then they never call. What does one do with that? 

I feel like raising my hand and asking: "Just for clarification? Did you mean that literally or figuratively?"

The same thing happens when random cashiers at the grocery store ask me: "How are you?"

This is when I try to remember that they don't mean that literally but sometimes I forget and over-share. Over-sharing, I've learned, freaks people out. Which is weird since WHY is a grocery clerk asking me how I'm doing, anyway?

Isn't that question supposed to come from my therapist? 

I dunno. The world is all kinds of disorganized.

Which I guess is why Arby's can get away with advertising it's sandwich as healthy and people like me have also given up on the audassity* of hope.

*dear grammar people: the mis-spelling of audacity is intentional. Just thought I'd save you the email. :P

**dear snark-haterz: if you don't like what I write, why do you read every word?

***dear hate mailerz: try not to add "God bless" at the end. It's a buzz-kill.

****dear people who are still reading: would you like to subscribe now? It's fun!

The American Patriot's Bible & "Christian" nationalism

The American Patriot's Bible, published (disappointingly!) by Thomas Nelson, claims to be the first Bible that contains "America's Christian heritage and the Holy Bible woven into a single volume." Because God, of course, is proud to be an American.

So much for those "Not of This World" bumper stickers. 

Also, so much for, like, Canadian Christians. Or African Christians. Or wherever-else Christians. Stinks to be you!

I guess this "niche Bible" is pretty popular. Is it any coincidence that The American Patriot's Bible rose to #5 on Amazon's bestsellers list after the general editor appeared twice on the Glenn Beck show? No coincidence. That's just how Thoma$ Nel$on $pell$ profit$.

It is amusing to see Christians aligning themselves with Glenn Beck in order to "take back the country." For one thing, most evangelicals I've ever met insist that Mormons aren't even Christians. But I suppose for "patriots," orthodoxy plays second-fiddle to nationalism because America, they say, needs to "turn back to God." 

Whose God we're turning back to is not entirely clear. But no matter. My God, your God, everybody's God-God. 

(As long as He supports the pledge of allegiance)

(And tax cuts)

(And belief in American exceptionalism)

Heresy shmeresy.

NUMBER FIVE ON AMAZON! That'$ what matter$, yo!

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H/T Burnside Writers' Collective for a much more insightful (and less snarky) article about this topic

Mopping in High-Heels

I like a clean house. Unfortunately, I suck at keeping it clean. Mostly because there are 8 million children tromping in dirt 3 seconds after I finish polishing the floor.

Hoping to make my mopping easier, I purchased a Swiffer last year. When I got home I was all: "HEY! Do these things come in different sizes? 'Cause I just bought the one made for my kids' pretend kitchen!"

This mop was so short that the only way I could use it was by hunching over. Still, I wasn't about to return it. That would be like admitting I'd only bought the mop to make my life easier--not to actually clean. AND I HAVE MORE INTEGRITY THAN THAT! So, this is how I mopped for over a year:

Well, at least my chiropractor was happy. He can now send his children to any college he pleases.

I mean, I knew that the mop extended to a longer position, but I could never get it to stay that way. I tried tightening the yellow rings, taping it in place. Yelling at it. Eventually, I came to the following brilliant conclusions:

a.) the mop is supposed to elongate, but the mechanism for locking it in place is defective

OR

b.) indeed, this is a mop for kids and/or Little People

I'll let you guess which conclusion I favored after I tell you that one of my favorite TLC shows is "The Little Couple." 

So, maybe you're wondering why I didn't just buy a new mop? Two reasons: 1. in all other respects, it was a perfectly good mop; and 2. what's a little bodily pain compared to an eternal weight of glory?

Last week, though? I got tired of mopping my way to Heaven. I just about broke down weeping when the twins spilled their juice all over the floor. Through my tears, I noticed a sticker on the Swiffer handle. I'd never seen it before.

"Do not use yellow rings to tighten handle."

WHAT?!

"Tighten by twisting the chrome handle in opposing directions--simultaneously."

YOU MEAN THIS MOP IS NOT DEFECTIVE?!

Indeed, the only thing defective around here, obviously, is my brain. 

But I don't mind because I can now mop with ease. My happiness is complete.

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You know he loves you if he shops for your, uh, Feminine Napkins

A few weeks ago the cargo-sized vessel of tampons I'd purchased at Costco had---shockingly!--run out. I sent my husband to the store with specific directions and a color-coded map. 

He called me a few minutes later. "What does the box look like again?"

"A blue box with a yellow stripe. LOOK.FOR.THE.YELLOW.STRIPE!" I felt like I was giving morse code for some super-classified, high-level, undercover ops. Undercover. Heh. Indeed.

"Yellow stripe, yellow stripe," he intoned and I imagined him ticking down the Feminine Hygiene aisle scanning the plethora of flowery boxes.

"GOT IT!" he crowed. "Wait. Regular? What does that mean?"

"Yes, regular," I said. "That means Regular sized tampons. Or Regulier if we're speaking French."

Because you know tampon boxes always advertise their wares in like three different languages. So helpful.

"Don't forget I need pantiliners, too," I reminded him.

"Yeah, I got those already. The box with the red flower on front, right?"

"Indeed."

Later, I was re-arranging my toiletry cabinet and suddenly noticed, like, how downright weird the pantiliner box was. 

I mean, I never noticed before. I'm more of a HEY LOOK, IT'S THE RED FLOWER BOX and I grab it off the shelf. But have you ever really looked at a pantiliner box? Let's ponder this. Take for instance, the bar-code side of the box:

Yes, friends. Not only does Kotex offer IMPROVED PROTECTION! and AMAZING COMFORT! but it also offers Latin lessons.

That red flower on their box? It's not just a Lily, you know. It's Clivia Miniata. Which makes it sound so much longer and, I dunno, important. Because in Latin, everything has more gravitas. You take a simple, 2 syllable word like Lily and suddenly, in Latin, it's practically a paragraph. 

Talk about bang for your buck-itas.

Moving on. The Lily, the folks at Kotex tells us, is "symbolic of three qualities: majesty, purity and splendid beauty."

BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY HOW I FEEL WHEN I'M ON THE RAG!

There's nothing like my period to make me feel majestic, pure and pretty much bursting with splendid beauty.

Dear Kotex, you picked the wrong botanical. Try a Venus Fly-Trap next time. That'd be closer to the truth.

Now, when you look at the other side of the box, you discover the various fits and sizes of pantiliners Kotex has to offer. Because Kotex, you see, has "a le produit qui repond a vos besoins" which translated into boring English means: products to fit your individual needs.

Dude, I hate how everything sounds so unsexy in English.

But I'll tell you what's more unsexy: pantiliners for THONGS. Yeah. Chew on that for a moment. Kotex offers THONG pantiliners. I'm sorry, but that just freaks me out.

Who wears a thong while she's on her period? Am I missing out on some super fun times women are having while they're menstruating? I guess I just assumed that every gal had her Period Underwear and her Pretty Underwear. Am I totally uninformed, here?

I mean, yeah, I do enjoy a pretty thong, but you couldn't PAY ME to wear my pretty thong with a thong pantiliner--not even if Kotex promises it has BONNE (good) coverage. Or buena cobertura if you speak Spanish. Oh, yeah. Kotex definitely se habla espanol. Don't tell Arizona.

Which begs the question, if the purpose of a thong is SANS coverage, how can a thong pantiliner promise BUENA coverage? 

So, not only is the pantiliner box weird, it's also totally oxymoronic. 

Now that's ettonnant.

Or as we unsexy English speakers say: uh-mazing.

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ISN'T IT TIME FOR SCHOOL YET????

In retrospect, not packing my summer schedule with scheduled activities was my stupidest idea ever.

Not having scheduled activities means that I've had to come up with new ideas every fifteen minutes.

NEWSFLASH: I'm out of ideas.

Worse, I feel like strangling anyone who throws fun, educational ideas at me. No, I do NOT want to make a homemade slingshot using only Q-tips and peanut butter. No, I do NOT want to spend more time at the local library. No, I do NOT want to pack a picnic for a lovely afternoon at the park. WE HAVE DONE ALL THAT LIKE 18 MILLION TIMES!

All I want is to send these children back to school. Where they belong.

And I want to send myself to solitary confinement.

[I can't wait to see the flood of unsubscribe emails that come after I publish this post!]

Well, since school is still a month away, I've resorted to sending them off to do hard manual labor. The kids come ask me what they should do and I'm all: GO EMPTY THE DISHWASHER! SWEEP THE FLOOR! MEND MY SOCKS!

My goal is to make them so sick of summer vacation that they'll start pining for Ye Old School Days of Yore.

Mwah-ha-ha.

I've even considered buying a little whistle that I can use a la Captain Von Trapp to summon everyone. From now on, I'm parking myself on the couch and blowing on my whistle to boss everyone around.

Look, I don't know what I was expecting but this summer has been anything but a vacation for me. There's no sleeping in. There's no lazy, breezy summer afternoons.

My days still start with a bang at 5:45 am. I'm up cooking and cleaning and chasing naked toddlers before most people open their eyeballs. You know you're a mom of 8 million kids when starting lunch prep at 8:15 a.m. sounds perfectly reasonable. Unfortunately, starting my day so early means I'm a raving lunatic by 2pm.

My long-suffering sherpa/husband calls 2pm-5pm The Red-Zone. He has proof, too. The text messages I send him from 2pm-5pm read something like this: AAAUUUGH!! I'M DYING!!! I HATE EVERYTHING!! HELP! HELP!

Frankly, I don't know why people talk about solitary confinement like it's a punishment thing. That sounds like a vacation to me.

I got so desperate the other day that I hauled everyone out for 8:30 a.m. Mass. They were like: "Why are we going to church on a weekday?"

And I was all: BECAUSE IF MOMMY DOESN'T PRAY, THE WORLD IS GOING TO END!

They all behaved so well that afterwards I felt all apologetic and took everyone out for (overpriced) bagels. James was like: "Well, I guess since we just spent half an hour praying we don't even need to thank the Lord for our food."

Yes, friends. I'm doing a bang-up job of passing the faith on to the next generation.