(Seriously, I know it sounds like I’m obsessing over this dang conference. I was disappointed about not being selected at first, and then I was all {Kanye shrug} and then when it took over my social media feed I got crazy again. Like in high school when you’d see your ex and then can’t stop thinking about how he’s  doing it with that ho lettergirl now. Please add this to the list of why I’m really glad social media didn’t exist when I was a teen.)

One of the bloggers posted some information  about giving your most engaged readers the most love. Another picture suggested giving blog fans a nickname like Lady Gaga calls her people “Little Monsters.”

That sounds like probably the dumbest thing in the world to me for a few reasons:

1. This is a blog where I shill my brand of nutso and I’m not gonna wear a meat dress just to make people talk about me. (Mine would be made of goat cheese and pinot grigio, which would cause lots of meltage problems in summer months.)
2. What in the world would I call you? Sparkies? (Nopey, and don’t call me that, either. I won’t answer.) Screaming Bitch Banshees? (That’s what I’ve been lately. Still getting adjusted to new meds and my kids are GAAAAAHHHH with Frat Boy The Younger and the stripping of the clothes and the showing off of the poopy diaper at Frat Boy The Elder’s swim lesson, and the aforementioned Disney conference all being up in my social media feed grill = what Frat Boy The Elder calls “Mad Face.”)
3. It feels egotistical and against all of my southern sensibilities to think that I/my blog has fans and/or that I should admit that I care.

However, since the fairy dust goddesses say this is a good idea, who am I to disagree?

Though I’m usually against dueling giveaways (you can enter the one for the Swag Bag from Tracy Beckerman’s book party here), the two are related and I’m dying to start, so I’m gonna.

The Palm Gifts is offering a personalized boat tote and acrylic cup with a top and straw, and Tracy Beckerman has generously provided me with an additional copy of her hilarious book. Consider it a summer beach read package. If you put and adult beverage in the cup, it will be a summer party beach read package. I vote for the latter.

Here are the stipulations:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

And as always, thank you for reading. I truly do appreciate it.

The post I was ornery so you get a prize appeared first on Southern Spark.

Drunk zombies are really good at coloring themselves with Sharpie.

The post My kids are drunk zombies appeared first on Southern Spark.

Two little demons right here for you, Imagine Dragons.

Over on Aiming Low, I wrote about the Top 6 Ways You Are Annoying on Social Media. Please read, commit to memory, and stop doing those things.

And if you haven’t yet, enter to win a swag bag from Tracy Beckerman’s book party. You’ll be really excited when you win.

And I’m spent. TPO out.

The post You are annoying appeared first on Southern Spark.

~The entry period for this giveaway has ended and the winner has been notified.~

The other day I wrote about how I attached myself like a barnacle to Anissa until she let me be her friend. I did the same exact thing to Tracy Beckerman, because I’m a shameless fangirl I recognize quality people when I see them.

Tracy is one of the kindest, honest, and hilarious people I know. She’s also a syndicated columnist, and is currently on tour promoting her second book,  Lost in Suburbia: A Momoir. Because Heather, Susan, and I are amazingly fun parasites, Tracy insisted to her people (she’s so fancy – I want people!) that the book tour stop in Charlotte. We were so glad she did, because it gave us a chance to see our friend  whom we otherwise only get to see a few times a year at blog conferences.  Tracy lives far, far away in the fabled land of New Jersey, and has the accent to prove it. She wrote about how we (book) party in North Cackalacka here.

Picture shamelessly stolen from Cupcrazed’s Instagram because I like it. Thanks, Heather!

Even though she lives in Jersey, her story of “How I got pregnant, lost myself, and got my cool back in the New Jersey suburbs” is an omnipresent one. Anyone who has felt their “cool” slip away after children were born, regardless of  where you were living, will love this book. And then you will want to be friends with Tracy because she’s that awesome.

Since I will fight you (and win) for Tracy’s affections, you can have the next best thing, which is a copy of the book and a swag bag that was given out at her book party in Charlotte. It includes:

• Tracy’s book, Lost in Suburbia
• A pillow case from the Living Fresh Collection
• A Thermaderm Clinical Skin Care gift pack
• An Office Candy gift pack
• An Ann Taylor VIP shopping card for 25% off any full-price purchase
• A coupon for a complimentary skin care consultation from Charlotte Plastic Surgery and $25 off your first Therapon Skin Health product purchase of $150 or more

There are only three easy-peasy requirements to enter this giveaway, because complicated giveaways are for suckers.
a Rafflecopter giveaway.

The giveaway period will end on Thursday, May 16, 2013 at 11:59 pm. Winner will be chosen via random number generator and will be notified via email.

~The entry period for this giveaway has ended and the winner has been notified.~

If you would like to purchase Tracy’s book on Amazon, you can do that here:

The post Giveaway – Tracy Beckerman’s book and some swag appeared first on Southern Spark.

When I first saw her coming down the hall the hotel at Type-A Con 2012, (Shameless plug: Click here for a 25% off coupon for Type-A Con 2013.) I literally hid behind a pillar. Heather and Susan laughed at me, because in general I’m wide open and not skeert to approach people. However, Anissa is different. Her honesty and irreverence inspires and terrifies me.

She liked me because we share thieving tendencies and aren’t afraid to tell the internet.

So I did what any other groupie would do. I harassed her until she let me write for her.

I’m so proud to present my first contribution to Aiming Low. I’m also humbled and honored to be a part of such an amazing group of writers. They are all funnier than I am, but only a little bit. So you should read their stuff too. But still like me better, because I’m territorial like that.

The post I write for Aiming Low. In the words of the great Liz Lemon, “SUCK IT, MONKEYS!” appeared first on Southern Spark.

Huge thanks to Maureen (you can “Like” her facebook page here) for giving me the opportunity to be on her regular Monday evening segment, “Stretching Your Dollar” on WBTV News last fall.

It was worth every penny just to get this shot.

The post That time I was on national TV. No biggie. appeared first on Southern Spark.

Perhaps it is because my blog is small and I don’t depend on it for income, the WSJ article didn’t bother me. Some people do attend conferences because they want to get away from their families. I won’t lie and say that it isn’t a perk for me to escape the tedium of the day-to-day when I attend conferences. They are fun. They are supposed to be. They are essentially recruiting experiences for those who decide to treat them that way.

However.

I’ve learned so much from the conferences I’ve attended about how much goes into turning a blog into an income-producing business. And right now, I’m in an odd place with the “business of blogging.” It seems that my most popular posts are those in which I don’t hold back. When I share exactly who and what I am, people respond. Sometimes, I curse in them. To be honest, that’s how I talk in real life. Of course, I have some sense. When I’m on the news, out in public, or with my children, I don’t generally do that. But my true authentic self, which everyone in the blogging world seems so hung up on because it creates great content, says ‘fuck’ quite often.

Oopsie. Said a bad word.

I’ve had people tell me that I’ll never get hired or be allowed to write for them because of that. But really? If that keeps some raggedy yogurt brand from hiring me to write about their shit ass yogurt I don’t really care about anyway, then that’s okay with me. And even when I was on my best behavior, I still wasn’t being chosen for the opportunities I really wanted. It makes me think I ought to consider going in a different direction with the blog. Then I know I’m right, when something like this happens. It makes me know that I’d rather save my pennies and go to Disney on my own terms. Pandering is not something I suffer gladly.

But for those people, especially someone I admire, like Katherine Stone, who felt her comments were taken out of context in the WSJ, I feel badly. Katherine is an advocate and an amazing force in the blog world. She wrote an apology, which I didn’t feel was necessary, but it was heartfelt. She didn’t deserve to be lumped into the swag whore group looking to get dump their kids on Grandma. She’s much better than that.

And so am I. Eff bombs and all.

The post On swag whoring and mommy blogging appeared first on Southern Spark.

While I was glued to the news on Monday, I was scared that there would be more explosions. Frightened that it was a 9/11 follow up. And as I watched the runners, spectators and the safety personnel rush to save those they could, I thought about how we’ll know eventually who did this. Maybe not why, but who. There will be documentaries filmed and books written. But even if we know both of those things, it won’t be enough. It will still hurt. The evil will still be unfathomable.

The anger in my stomach and the fear in my cheeks feels familiar. I had it a few months ago when the bad guy killed the people in Newtown. At a school. Children and educators. Before that I felt it in when another guy shot the people who were watching a movie. And before that and before that …

Feel free to use this as your facebook cover image. Design courtesy of kippypdesigns.com

And now this. Children and families and friends, cheering on people who ran for hours for the sheer exuberance of the journey and crossing a finish line. A momentous achievement of the human body and spirit.

The darkest of voices whispers to me. Tragedy is hunting you. It wants to gobble up your babies and snap their bones with pointy teeth. It wants to destroy everything you hold dear. So you bitch every day about how you can’t stop eating too much or your kids broke the lamp again and your dog sheds like a mofo. Keep your pitiful problems so the bad guys won’t know you are happy. Because they are coming for you. They’ll rip your joy apart with their evil talons as soon as you let it. Don’t go outside. Hide. Forever.

But I will not hide. I tell that voice to FUCK OFF. Because life is sweet and I owe it to the victims of these massacres, my family and myself to hold the beauty and love of our world close and share it with those who need it. It makes me want to do better. To be better. No matter what, we’ll be brave. Even though it’s terrifying, we will not let the bad guys steal our joy.

The post Processing fear. It takes me a minute. appeared first on Southern Spark.

So much that I look forward to seeing her every year.

She has cared for me through both of my pregnancies and told me I could have c-sections if I wanted to. I did, and have never regretted it. She’s a parent, too, and her kids are a little older than mine. It’s nice to have someone in the “parenting trenches” with me.

I spotted this mama possum in the tall grass with her babies hanging off of her yesterday morning. I know how she feels.

When I  cried all over her yesterday during my annual appointment when I explained my depression medication needs adjusting, she didn’t even blink. It made me wonder if it happens to her a lot. Considering how many people I know who deal with symptoms similar to mine, I’m guessing so. It also makes me wonder why it is I socialize with so many people who have chemical imbalances. It takes some crazy mofos to appreciate other crazy mofos is my professional opinion.

When I mentioned the Law of Crazy Mofo Attraction to one of my private facebook blogging groups, Stephanie suggested that there should be Zoloft-infused vodka in the world. Crazy and brilliant mofos are my favorite. And since Abbie says she has been known to google “vitamins that make moms scream less,” I know it will be a hot seller.  (Also, Zoloft vodka idea trademarked, intellectual property copyrighted, registered and dibs called on already. Don’t even try to steal it.) Perhaps we should start adding SSRIs to the water system in all suburban areas like they do fluoride for the general wellness of the public. Though vodka sounds like a lot more fun.

That awkward time when you’re just chillin’ in a gown waiting for the lady doctor to come check out your girl parts.

— Tricia Oakes (@SparkReviews) April 11, 2013

My gyno’s office also provides fabric gowns instead of paper ones. It makes me love her all the more. Though I think it would amazeballs for us to be friends, I think it would be weird for her. Notice I said it would be weird for her. She has regularly seen my girl parts and I’ve willingly let her cut me open and pull babies out of my belly while I was awake to smell the skin cauterizing. You’d think we’d be pretty close. However, it might be a violation of HIPAA or ethics or something, and I love her so much I don’t want her to get in trouble for fraternizing with crazy people. But I bet if I invited her over for a Zoloft Vodka Porch Sit, she’d come.

The post Perfectly Pinnable: Zoloft Vodka Cocktails appeared first on Southern Spark.

John and I took the Wee Frat Boys down to Myrtle for a few days to break up the week of Spring Break. We normally go to the Charleston area because we prefer and it is closer, but finding an affordable place to stay just for a few days that has an indoor pool is tough down that way. So I booked a one bedroom suite for a decent price in a hotel in Myrtle Beach that boasted heated indoor pools and a lazy river. It also has a Starbucks in it, and any hotel with a Starbucks in it is on my Good List.

The view from our new-fangled high rise hotel of the old school Myrtle Beach hotels like the ones I stayed in when I was high school.

The hotel itself was good enough. Nothing fancy, but for the price I was happy with it. It was the clientele that shocked me a little bit.

I saw no less than three people swimming in their bras. Which were under their bathing suits. Now I know how tough it is to find a suit with good support and coverage when you have boobage of the larger variety. But never once have I considered wearing my bra under my suit. Not seriously at least. It must be the snob in me.

I saw two other people swimming in their clothing. Which didn’t look particularly clean. Again, snobby. I know.

I also saw people engaging in what I’m pretty sure was full-on penetration sex in the hot tub. I fear I now have chlamydia from being in the same room with them. And also athlete’s foot.

I still don’t get this look. Be a shirt or a skin. You have to choose.

We went to a pizza place nearby that had good yelp reviews, but they weren’t able to serve us because they were busy setting up for the official Myrtle Manor viewing party. I would’ve liked to have stayed because I have a problem with wanting to have my picture made with people who have been on reality shows, but they wouldn’t have had food ready for at least 30 minutes. The Wee Frat Boys wait for pizza from no man, so we moved on.

There was also the typical line up of teen boys sitting on benches and walls along the main drag, hollering at girls and fussing at them when they wouldn’t stop to talk to them. Those interactions were punctuated by boys in trucks with giant wheels cruising by with huge rebel flags flying off of the back of them. I’m not a fan of the whole “Heritage not Hate” mantra that many of these ignorant fools hiss, but the line of guys who were talking foolishness on the street to all of the passerby mostly happened to be black. Instead of starting a fight or screaming nasty things at the flag-bearers, one of them consistently yelled “WHITE POWER” in a pretty good Dave Chappelle impersonation. (If you aren’t familiar with the skit click on the video below for an education. NSFW or kids.)

When I told Andrea, who is one of my best friends from junior high and high school, about the silliness I witnessed and that I hoped we acted better when we were high school spring breakers, she responded, “Oh, I don’t think we did.”

Back in the day, my high school friends and I used to rent the shoddiest hotel rooms and beach houses we could find in the Cherry Grove area of North Myrtle. They were cheap, and when you pack 20 girls with limited spring break funds into two rooms meant to sleep 10 people, shenanigans ensued. Add most of the rest our classmates and much of the student bodies of other Charlotte high schools down there in similar housing situations, and there’s a week of drunk high school students wandering the streets and the beach, meandering from house party to house party. I also recall one evening where we committed grand theft auto by packing 10 girls into a convertible. I’d call it “borrowing,” but we took a car that didn’t belong to us without permission. We gave it back, though, so I guess we at least have that.

Don’t be jealous of my Nine West t-shirt.

I also recall several arrests (NOT ME), drunk crying over boys (possibly me), fighting among roommates (also me), drinking Everclear mixed with Gatorade (puke), and lots of drinking Zima and watching reruns of Saved by the Bell during daylight hours (definitely me). We were our nation’s future, taking a break to enjoy being just that.

It was so much fun.

But I’m still not going back to Myrtle Beach again. This snobby girl knows the days of the Sunny Ledfurd lifestyle (not that she ever really lived one) are over for her. She snobbily accepts it.

They actually have cleaned up the former Pavilion area. This is the view from the Sky Wheel, which my kids loved.

The post What I caught on spring break in Myrtle Beach appeared first on Southern Spark.