I’ve not been on the Internet much other than to twitter about how I was abducted by aliens, tortured for their sick amusement and had screws twisted into my thumbs. (It’s true.) I may have also tweeted about seeing an abominable snowman and how I grew ice cubes for ass cheeks as I was strapped to a cold metal table with freakishly long scary needles inserted into my abdomen.

It’s hard to blog under those circumstances.

I had a lot of time to compose my inner thoughts and myself during my alien abduction Christmas break. I reflected on all the things that happened to my family and myself over the course of 2008. As with every year, there were highs and lows. New friends found, old friends lost and the circle of life continued onwards.

Because I’m slightly tipsy lazy hitting a creative brick wall with the force of a watermelon being dropped off a bridge, I thought I’d review my year for all my readers my one faithful reader who has stuck with me during my dry spell. 

2008 started off with a bang. The shit literally exploded when it Jack Frost froze my sewer pipes. In my bathroom. Which meant sewage was not going down my toilet and into the sewer but rather, coming up into my bathtub.

I had my own little cesspool mere feet from where I lay my head to sleep at night.

The year was off to a shittastic start.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh crap!!!

How a real redneck rings in the new year. Yeehaw.

February rolled around and things started looking up. Or at least, my sewage was going down. That was an improvement. I was starting to get slivers from my love affair with my plunger.

(Whoa. That came off way dirtier than it sounded in my head.)

As I shivered out in the sticks of Alberta others were keeping warm across the country by fondling my image. 

You know you’ve made it when Her Bad Mother tries to lick you.

My husband likes to think this is art imitating life. He’s a wise guy like that.

By the end of the evening I was feeling a little dirty. And I wasn’t even there. Damn.

When I turned the calendar page to the month of March, my luck started to turn. To my incredible surprise and total shock, I won a bloggy.

 

Sweet niblets. I didn’t think it was possible.

I may have jumped around and acted like a complete idiot  I had just won the lottery. It kinda felt that way. I finally had some leverage to justify my Internet addiction to my husband. 

Not that I’d ever need to because he is a supportive and loving husband.

(I totally managed to type that with a straight face. That is emotional growth. So my therapist says.)

April brought even more unexpected surprises along with it. After years of begging for a truck my husband finally listened to my incessant harping and bought one for me. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

A lesson in how to be careful about what you wish for.

I soon learned that it doesn’t matter what the truck looks like on the outside, if one goes 4×4′ing out in the back forty and isn’t careful, U-joints will still break and husbands will be annoyed. 

In May I had the opportunity to visit some of the bloggers who did indecent things with my pictures, as I was none the wiser.

Katie was overjoyed to see me. Pictures never lie.

Catherine tried to use her pregnant mammaries as an enticement to let her lick me. She wanted to recreate our photographic love. However, I’m not that type of girl. If any one is going to do the licking, it’s going to be me. 

After a wild night of debauchery which included meeting a dream team of Canadian bloggers, we all put our boobs away, rolled up our tongues (or is it more accurate to say put our tongues away and rolled up our boobs???) I toured Toronto with my lady friends, including my beloved Assertagirl and MamaTulip. 

Then June rolled around. It was a bumpy month.

The hubs *just* had this fixed. To the tune of three grand. Merry Christmas to me. Sigh.

It was a good thing I had BamBam to cuddle because Boo wasn’t really in a cuddling type of mood.

When July came around I escaped to San Francisco. There, under the guise of going to BlogHer, I got naked with my lady friends and discovered the true meaning of friendship.

The true meaning of friendship: being able to shed ones clothing as well as one’s inhibitions and still be able to look one another in the eye afterwards.

It got a little wild. Boobs were everywhere.

Nothing says ‘Welcome to a Professional Blog Conference’ like french-kissing another blogger.

Soon my reputation as a boob-grabbing, beer guzzling Redneck was spread far and wide. Funny how that happens when one goes on television announcing her lunacy for the entire world to see.

The high I rode during the month of July quickly crashed as August rolled around and my world was dumped upside down. I licked my wounds while I floated in my pool and tried to drown my children.

I tried to teach my nephew, Worm, to swim. He was more interested in letting me bob him around like an apple in a barrel of water.

I spent most of my time in the pool. It was safer to play with the kids in the water than on the trampoline. Ask my bladder. She’ll tell you.

While I didn’t write a lot on my own blog during August, I did manage to drag my pruned and shriveled fingers out of the pool long enough to write a guest post for a friend. After years of blogging about my own vagina, I took advantage to finally talk about another woman’s. It was a magical cooter moment. 

With September came my birthday. 

I celebrated a lot.  With whipped cream. One doesn’t turn 33 every year, after all.

In October I had the pleasure of introducing the world to Gay Ray. I didn’t want to have to spill Shawn’s dirty little secret, but he left me no choice after he tried to pull a fast one on me.

Never advance the age of a Redneck woman with a blog and a wicked sense of humour, peoples. Especially if that Redneck woman has friends with too much time on their hands and a twisted bent to their personalities. You never know what type of revenge I’ll she’ll dish out.

Photoshop fairy dust was sprinkled far and wide over the internet during August and it wasn’t long before I was morphed into a gun-toting, moose-shooting bikini clad Redneck.

Making Rednecks everywhere proud.

In November I had the opportunity to kick back and show a Polly Pocket doll fellow blogger my roots as a Redneck as we sat back and enjoyed a few brews in a local Albertan honky tonk.

While I love Ali to itty bitty pieces (heh), I could do with out feeling like I was a thundering giant.

Finally, December arrived and with it, embarrassing and poorly sung Christmas carols, more chocolate consumed than a body can absorb and personal revelations as I came clean about our adoption journey.

It was enough to drive a gal crazy.

Happy New Year everyone. May the new year bring us more joy, love and happiness than we all can stand. Or at the very least, may we all win the lotto jackpot so we can start our own personal communes wherever we choose. Where the boobs and the booze flow freely.

(Hey. You run your commune how you choose and I’ll do the same.)

In the meantime, I’ll be here, holding my breath as I wait for a commune invitation.