Blogging is a funny thing. It allows you to not only reach out and socialize with other people you would normally never interact with in your own circle of reality but it gives you the freedom to morph into the high school rockstar you always wanted to be and could have been if there weren’t those pesky social stereotypes and gigantic geeky green glasses your parents bought for you and made you hide behind.

Not that I’m speaking from personal experience or anything. 

Heh.

This social media platform has morphed geeks everywhere into cyber rockstars. No matter how large your readership is someone out there is reading your words and thinking you are badass.

It’s a powerful, heady thing this blogging power.

Until you are nominated for a blogging award.

And suddenly, you are crushed back into reality, your internet fame dissipated with every vote not cast your way and you are back to being the quiet kid in the back of the class with the big ass green spectacles that have taken over your face, fervently hoping the cool kids don’t use you as their target for spitballs that day. 

The cool kids, (in my case,) a passel of freaking political blogs, mock you and your Redneck blog name and wonder why you thought you were worthy enough to play in their sandbox. You are a mommy blog they sneer at you. You can’t seriously hope to be crowned Prom Queen of the Canadian Internet what with your posts about dead kids and feelings and sex talk, they hiss at me.

But I persist, knowing the true power of blogging. Everyone is a rock star, even a lone mother out in the middle of the vast Canadian prairies who puts herself out there to share with the world the power of battery operated toys and the meaning of life. 

Sure I don’t write lofty words of wisdom and I don’t sharpen the intellects of the masses by yammering on about the dreary situation of Canadian politics; but I give the world something else. My boobs. On a silver platter. There is value in that, no?

Apparently not enough value as I wasn’t just defeated in the 2008 Weblog awards, I was crushed. By a bunch of pencil chewing, dry as dust, informative and educational political blogs.

Nipple rings and bendy mothers aren’t as cool as progressive blogging and talk of economic reform. 

The axis of my world suddenly turned upside down typing that sentence. Seriously, Canadian politics? SERIOUSLY?

So this pathetic mommy blogger loser cool kid is taking her rockstar behind to the nearest candy store and going to self-medicate herself with more chocolate than her dimpled, jiggly arse needs and take a moment to lick her wounded pride, while offering her sincerest congratulations to which ever political blog it was that she has never read nor heard of that whooped her tiny blog’s ass and crushed her fledgling ego with it’s intellectual superiority and won the category of Best Canadian Blog.

As I lick the melted chocolate from my gooey fingertips, I will vow to myself that I will be back. I’ll blog harder, be funnier and maybe even blow the dust off my dictionary to occasionally toss in some fancy words to smarten this place up and give all those political blogs a real run for their money next year. 

Like Sanjaya, I will not be defeated by the overwhelming votes of majority.

Because the 2009 Bloggies are quickly arriving, and as the reigning champion for the title of Best Canadian Blog, I’m going to ignore the public’s cry for more blogs with actual intelligent content and do what I do best. I’m going to defend my title with all means available.

That’s right. This means more boob talk peoples. No more playing nice mommy blogger.

I’m letting the girls out and these betches are taking names. 

So heads up all you Canadian political bloggers and all you others *cough*Her Bad Mother*cough* who are thinking of wresting the title of Best Canadian Bloggie away from me. 

I’m a rockstar in my own mind and me and my big arse green glasses want to win. I may even sing like Sanjaya. You know you want me to.

***I love you Catherine. Don’t beat me.***

***This post brought to you entirely tongue in cheek. I may or may not be riding a sugar high right now and am looking for ways to avoid scrubbing toilets.***

***I love politics. Really. So Mr. Prime Minister, call me. Let’s go watch some hockey together.***

****And a big squishy hug to everyone who did vote for me. You guys rock and help inflate my ego each and every day. I am truly honored that I was nominated and it doesn’t matter how the votes fell, I am just glad I was able to use my picture of Sanjaya. Wink.****