I Got Spogged

Today I was just thinking how popular blogs were becoming and that I feel mine has been losing some meaning. With all of the options available, why would someone want to read about me? Lately, I haven't really had anything funny to say, and frankly the photos of me and Jake have to be getting old to everyone.

I was talking this over with one of my fellow bloggers (and friends), Ward, and he was very nice and supportive and all that. Then, he informed me that my blog was spammed. That's right, SPAMMED. What the heck!? I am taking that as a sign ... a sign of what, I am not sure of yet, but getting spammed in a blog, or spogged, as I am now calling it, can't be a good thing. At least it is nothing R-rated like I get at work (not that I draw a huge 12 and under crowd, but I like to "keep it legal").

Meanwhile, I am also a little nervous about my other blog that is in the works right now. I have been holding off mentioning it to anyone because I don't want to build it up and then have it be a huge let down. Anyways, I am going to tell everyone about it because I am a little nervous ...

You see, there is a weekly newspaper in Indianapolis called Intake Weekly. Apparently I am going to have a blog on their web site, and every week I will answer a question for them. I am not the only "blogger" for them, I guess there are nine people or something --- Anyways, they asked me to fill out this bio form and send them a headshot. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't have any head shots laying around my house in case I have an audition for a gig. So, I just cropped a random photo of me and sent it on. Well, apparently, the editor did not feel that was head shot worthy and asked if I could stop by the Indianapolis Star and get an official headshot. I was pretty embarrassed and emailed him back some joke about my headshot not being up to par. He did not think it was funny. I could tell that this guy was not going to laugh at my jokes. Not a good sign ...

So, the day comes that I have to go to get my headshot and it is coincidentally the day that I have the worst head cold in history. I am sneezing and blowing my nose every five seconds. I have developed a very attractive red chaffing under my nostrils from the one ply toilet paper I am using to blow my nose. My eyes are puffy and with bags. At any second I am at risk of snot to come flying out of my nose, with no warning. And, I am off to be photographed for a publication that reaches 50,000 readers.

I try my best to apply powder and lip gloss to the appropriate places. I pinch my cheeks to infuse color into them. I try to calm my huge, frizzed out hair. Dear Lord, I look like hell. So, I march up to the Indianapolis Star building and meet my new editor friend, James. I tell him that I am very sick, and I apologize that I don't look very nice. He kind of laughs it off, and tells me to stand against the gray wall. I do some stupid poses -- hands on the hips, chin up, look to the side -- -and it is done. He tells me how to get "published" in the Intake. He said I just need to be intelligent. I laugh, like being intelligent is something I do in my sleep. Piece of cake!

The time comes when I am emailed the question of the week: Do you attend the state fair? If so, what for? I was on a very tight deadline (20 minutes) because I was gone the entire week before when the question was sent. I tried to think intelligently very quickly. Unfortunately, the only thing that kicked in quickly was my sarcasm. I rattled off some answer about how I had never been to the state fair, and something about listening to Clay Aiken while eating a deep fried Twinkie didn't sound like fun to me.

It wasn't until about 30 seconds after I hit the "Send" button that I started to get heart palpitations. In my desperation I emailed everyone I could think of to see what they thought of it. Jake said I sounded like a "snotty bitch," but it was funny. I think my mom thought it was way too harsh. In one of her classic metaphors she likened me to Kathy Griffin, and the state fair to Whitney Houston.

I had visions of getting email after email of hate mail. The little 10 year-old girl who got her first 4-H ribbon this year, the angry farmer who displays his tractor, the crazed Clay Aiken fan.

To make things worse, what if my response was chosen to be published? I just pictured my horrid mug shot -- big hair, red nose, puffy eyes -- sitting next to my mocking comment on the second page. I could see Editor James thinking, "Her jokes are not funny to me!! Intelligent? Ha! This will show her."

So, now it is Thursday (the day of Intake's publication) and I ran to get my copy. Wouldn't you know, that the copy I grabbed is of last weeks. If there is any mercy in this world, I will not be published this time, and I will make a mental note to be intelligent and kind. Until then, I will just try to clear out all of the spogs.