Ordinarily, resignation letters start off saying something to the effect that “it is with a heavy heart”, or, “this has been the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make”.

Not this one.

After 6,053 posts over the past six years — and that’s not even counting the entries at my other three blogs or at Pajamas Media — I’ve reached a point where I no longer feel the least bit interested in spending my days online.

Truth is, lately I’ve found myself wondering why I felt compelled to blog in the first place. To change minds? Hah. I’m not so naive as to believe that one blog entry, or even a slew of them, has any meaningful influence on someone’s political persuasion. To communicate with others? Well, sure. That was the fun part… until “social media” like Twitter, Facebook, et al., turned interaction into a nonstop slew of mental diarrhea streaming live 24/7.

Looking back, I realize that dissatisfaction with my own life was the greatest impetus behind my blogging. Because, let’s face it, my adventures with Venomous Hubby provide an endless source of snark-filled fodder.

Or so I thought.

In the past two months, as I’ve spent increasingly less time online, I’ve discovered something profound: it’s not that I was dissatisfied with the life I was living, it’s that I was living too much of that life online.

Staying away from the computer on a regular basis has given me the time and mental energy to appreciate my loved ones, to accomplish projects I previously believed I didn’t have time for, and to simply take pleasure in being without feeling the compulsion to share every detail of my existence with the online community. (It’s also helped me shed 17 of the far-too-many-to-admit-in-public pounds that I’ve put on in the past 6 years as my life dwindled to the space between my bed, fridge and laptop.)

So, dear blogosphere, it is actually with a very light and happy heart that I am writing this to tell you of the easiest decision I’ve made in quite some time. I’d wondered how to quit you, and now I know: it’s just a matter of turning off the computer and seeing that the world, indeed, keeps going.

To all of my Venomites, I want to thank you for your loyal readership and witty comments over the years. Were it not for how much I know I’ll miss you, I’d probably have reached this decision quite some time ago. As it is, I appreciate your support and understanding, and please know that I’ll miss you, too.

I may be back. I may not. When I sit here thinking of my future it doesn’t involve blogging. It does, however, involve a whole lot of time unplugged from the online world and tuned in, instead, to my own life.

So, until we meet again:

Vaya con Venom,
VK

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We have a winner for the Hope and Changey edition of the Caption Contest.

Congratulations to Steve whose caption “God, I Wish I Knew How To Quit You” takes first place, earning him a Moleskine notebook in which to record his witty thoughts, along with all of his other ones. (Steve, be sure to email me your snail mail address so I know where to send your notebook.)

That said, there were a few other entrants who were so clever they almost made me pee. Since I only have one Moleskine to send out, y’all will have to settle for seeing your name in hyperlinks:

Second place: Linoge with “So, do you want me to reach around or not?”

Third place: Kevin with “Yes sir, economic decisions are most difficult. I suggest you try ’scissors’ this time.”

Thanks to everyone for playing!

As some of you may recall, I spent the day after the presidential election listening to Peggy Lee and wondering “is that all there is?” As I said at the time:

“I truly do feel like I just don’t care all that much. We get what we ask for, and apparently the majority of the country asked for a change that had never been clearly defined.

That’s fine. I’ll go along for the ride. I am, if nothing else, good at seeing the forest (while occasionally slamming into the trees), and love nothing more than to see people get EXACTLY what they asked for.”

In response, long-time Venomite Will Wallace made a prediction that halfway through Obama’s first 100 days his supporters would emit a collective gasp as they realized their Wunderkid was, indeed, just another politician full of hot air. But let’s hear it from Will in his own words:

I’m predicting that if you step outside about 10:16 am Eastern Time on March 18, 2009 and listen very closely you’ll be able to hear a multitude of Obama voters saying, in unison, “What the F***!?!?”

This election reminds me of the ‘none of the above’ polls that are so common early in primary races.

Candidate 1 gets 27% of the vote
Candidate 2 gets 19% of the vote
and “None of the Above” gets 54% of the vote

And while it appears on the surface to be a rejection of both candidates- if you forced the 54% to identify who they would vote for- it’s probably a mix of 70-100 people none of which would garner more than 8-10% support.

Obama- with the help of a criminally negligent press- was able to run as ‘none of the above’; or more accurately he was able to run as all things to all people.

And so while he won the election- whatever policies he enacts are sure to offend a portion of the people who supported him. By the time March rolls around and his supporters realize that:

• the fairness doctrine is much more likely to silence left wing radio than right wing radio (right wing is financially viable enough to go satellite or even off-shore while left wing struggles in most markets)
• that tax cut they’re hoping to see will disappear faster than a 747 on a David Copperfield special
• national security will be tested until we respond- and if there are three words that go together to form a triangle of inadequacy they are: liberal- military- quagmire
• being black is no more a qualification than it is a disqualification.
• the reason congress’ approval ratings are so low is because they’ve been trying to do many of the things that Obama champions.

Remember March 19- 10:16 am- take a moment- walk outside and listen as an entire block of young idealistic voters gets their grades back from their first political pop-quiz.

It’s a relatively soft lesson- traditionally zealots are the first to be lined up against a wall and shot- they’re just too hard to keep in line.

So, how’d Will do?

This time, the winner gets a Moleskine notebook paid for out of my own pocket. So you’d damn well make it GOOD, folks.

Winner announced Monday.

UPDATE: Due to my mother’s visit, which lasts until Friday, I’ll be a bit too busy for blogging. Ergo, I’m going to keep the contest open. Winner announced Sunday.

In honor of the 7th annual Eat an Animal for PETA Day, we at the Venomous Household will be having roasted loin of veal with foie gras and a cherry-grape red sauce.

Why, yes, I did have to plan ahead by ordering the roast from the butcher and the foie gras shipped overnight from Amazon.

But, hey, it’s worth it to get not one but two — count ‘em, TWO — burrs under PETA’s saddle.

With the economy growing worse every day, it’s increasingly common to hear about people not only working a regular full-time job (if they’re lucky enough to still have one) but also looking for home-based businesses they can run in their spare time.

Well, here’s an idea: why not throw a boutique party? You know, like the Avon parties of old, only featuring apparel and accessories instead? It’s surprisingly simple to do, assuming you’ve got a bit of money to invest up front.

1. Plan the date Simply come up with a list of friends who’d likely be interested in attending and pick the date of your party. If your list consists mostly of mommies, go for weekends so they actually have the time to get away from the kids. Then be sure to encourage your invitees to invite their own friends to attend, too.

2. Select your wares: As we all now, the ultimate rule in shopping is to never, ever pay retail. That goes for a boutique party, too. Here’s where providers of wholesale apparel come in: their fashionable merchandise comes in reasonably-priced bundles of 6 containing an assortment of sizes (usually 2 small, 2 medium, and 2 large) for as low as $30.00. That’s $5 out of your pocket for each blouse, but since you’re throwing the party to make money you’d obviously want to mark the price up a bit.

3. Accessorize: Want to expand your appeal? Offer an assortment of wholesale jewelry, too. With attractive, layered-look beaded necklaces going for $12 for a pack of twelve, that’s just a buck a pop out of your pocket which means you can mark them up as much or as little as you like.

4. Lay out a nice spread: Don’t just offer piles of shirts; display them attractively — perhaps paired with accessories — just like you really are running a boutique. Yes, that means you’ll want to have a bathroom or two set aside for those who want to try things on. But don’t limit your spread to stuff for sale, either; these are guests, after all. Put on some music, offer a nice variety of appetizers and beverages, and encourage people to linger and mingle since that will increase the likelihood they’ll buy something.

5. Treat it like a side-business: If you’re smart about it, your opportunity to make money doesn’t stop when the sale is made. Print yourself some business cards and encourage everyone to take a few. Draw up a nifty tag with your phone number and attach it to each item. Do the same with paper shopping bags. You’ll get your name out and, if you’re lucky, you’ll be invited to throw other boutique parties at someone else’s house where they can do the cooking and cleaning while you just rake in the cash.

Electric Venom turns 6 years old today! Why, it seems like just the other day I was sitting at my laptop worried that I’d somehow break the internet if I pushed the wrong button and wondering if I’d get in trouble for typing “fuck” on the internet.

For the first time ever, I’m not going to celebrate this blogiversary by promising to stick around another 6 years. Frankly, when I look back at all the hours and days that have passed by unnoticed for having existed beyond the confines of my monitor, it makes me just a bit blog weary. Or maybe that’s constipation. Hard to say.

At any rate, thanks to all of my readers for making life online far more interesting over the past few years than the stuff that’s happened away from the computer. You keep doing what you do so well, and I’ll consider doing the same.

With VH still overseas — and my mother arriving in 14 days — I’ve been absolutely swamped with that annoying thing called “life offline”. So, yes, I realize I haven’t been posting here much. Guess what? I’m not going to be posting here much for a little while longer.

It’s either take time off from blogging, or resent the hell out of blogging for feeling like an “obligation” instead of the fun distraction it’s supposed to be. So, I’m taking a break for a few days.

How long? Well, let me put it to you this way: ElectricVenom.com turns 6 on March 10. My son turns 9 on the same day. I’m pretty sure I’ll be clamoring to get back online shortly after the excitement and the sugar high from his birthday cake wears off, leaving my son asleep early and me, completely and totally bored… which is pretty much what led me to start EV in the first place.

See you then.

I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.
I will not watch scary movies when my husband is out of town.

Damn you, Alfred Hitchcock. Thanks to you, I’ll be showering with one eye open for the rest of my life.

Blogging will be light tomorrow for reasons that are none of your damn business. (I mean that in the nicest way.) I just have a lot of crap going on, and I’m not yet ready to discuss it with the Interwebs, m’kay?

So, what say we play some Word Fugue, that annoyingly addictive little game begun here at EV. A game which gets under your skin and works its way down into your belly like a bad memory. A game which, let’s face it, gives you both a reason to think, and a reason to stop thinking.

Oh, don’t mind me.

If you’ve never played it before, here are the rules:

1. I start it off with a word.

2. You look at the most recently posted comment.

3. You leave ONE word that comes to mind upon reading the most recent comment.

4. You may play as many times as you like, but you may not use the same word twice.

5. Don’t leave links. They’ll only send you into comment moderation.

6. Word Fugues that wind up in comment moderation will get deleted.

7. The game continues until you bore me, at which point comments are closed.

Ready?

Here’s the word:

survival

Your turn.

With VH out of the country for what seems like an interminable future, I’ve been struggling for ways to keep The Big-Eyed Boy entertained. After school today I informed him we were going game shopping.

As I previously explained, we finally got a Wii. Oh, how I love that thing. If you’d told me a year ago — heck, even a month ago — that I would wake up in the morning looking forward to working out, I’d have told you to step away from the crack pipe. But here it is, just a few weeks later, and I can’t get enough of my Wii Fit.

But watching Mommy workout is even less interesting to the Big-Eyed Boy than watching Mommy’s toenail paint dry. Go figure. And that’s precisely why I’d thought that one of our best household investments right now would be a smattering of Nintendo Wii Games.

Unfortunately, in my glee to find something — anything — to engross the child (and thus buy myself some peace and quiet), I failed to factor in the hassle of having a somewhat small yet very loud kid demanding that I let him have a turn on the Wii.

So, back to the store we went in search of something that he could play without booting me off the Wii, and preferably play on his own. In his room. Or, at least, in any other room besides the one I’m in. Of course, the first thing he spied was the XBox 360, conveniently displayed beside its version of Guitar Hero.

Since that’s one of the Big-Eyed Boy’s favorite games on the PS2 — which we already have — I just couldn’t see myself buying a top-dollar console plus XBox 360 games that are basically carbon-copies of ones we already own, but for another gaming system.

Besides, even if I’d bought the XBox he’d still be begging to play on the family room TV, requiring me to abandon my Wii time (Mii time?), and thus entirely defeating the purpose of our shopping trip.

Fortunately, right next to the XBox display was a bright, shinny array of Nintendo DS’s, something my son has been begging for since he could pronounce “Nintendo”. And I, being the softy that I am (read: determined to beat level 2 of “Bunnies Love To Dance” on Rayman Raving Rabbids) agreed that he is, indeed, finally old enough to have a DS system.

That’s right, I bought my kid a Nintendo DS — and three Nintendo DS games of his choosing — so I could have my Wii all to myself.

But — when you compare that to the cost of hiring a babysitter, calling a cab, and spending a night out drinking — it’s worth it.

My apologies for the silence around here lately but between feeling like death warmed over for most of the past week, and VH’s trip to Korea leaving me (once again) to parent solo, I’ve been more interested in screaming into my pillow than reading the news, much less forming a semi-intelligent opinion on it.

Which is not to say that I haven’t been blogging. I have, just not here. So here’s a sampling of what I’ve posted elsewhere which you’ve probably been too lazy to look into:

At I Think Therefore I Blog:

…And Then It Dawned On Me. An excerpt:

All weekend long I could not escape the feeling of impending doom. You know the one I’m talking about: that tickle in the pit of your stomach, the tension in the back of your throat, the pressure bearing down on your shoulders, the certainty that the ceiling above you — and the sky above it — is bearing down on your helpless ass.
In other words, my mother’s visit is a mere 29 days away.

Also, Rinse and Spit Please.

At Chubby Mommy:

Lessons from the Wii Fit. An excerpt:

You know how exercise is supposed to give you more energy? I’m still waiting for that part to kick in. I’m tired! Every morning when my alarm clock goes off, I am so tempted to hit the snooze button and go back to sleep. The only thing stopping me? My arms are too freakin’ sore to move quickly enough to reach the dang thing before that incessant buzzzzzing wakes up everyone else in the house.

Also, Eau de Moi.

At Queen of Snark:

Like a Bookmark in Your Poop. An excerpt:

So. I’d just finished scrubbing, pre-soaking, washing, drying and folding a load which consisted of nothing besides his underwear. Boxer-briefs, in case you’re curious. And while I folded one pair I noticed the crotch area is getting a little thin… as in, I could see the floor through some of the holes.

(Yes, God did bless my husband in that general vicinity — which might explain why I put up with as much as I do — but, honestly, I don’t understand how the man wears out 3 pairs of his underwear in the time it takes me to wear out one of mine.)

Also, Sign Language.

And, of course, there’s my Pajamas Media column asking Can Starbucks Really Offer “Value” With A Straight Face in response to which the rabid PJM commenters accuse Your Venomous Hostess of being obsessed with what other people think of me.

To quote my favorite cartoon duck: “Dey don’t know me vewy well, do dey?”

So, as far as blogging goes until Monday, the-the-the-the-the-that’s all, folks!

Given the 1,079 pages of mind-numbing legislation, it’s no surprise to learn that the President didn’t read the economic stimulus bill in its entirety before signing it yesterday. As Kim points out, who has time to read something that long? In fact, the thing is so notoriously chock full of various allocations and spending items that it borders on unintelligible.

That, of course, would ordinarily be a ripe source of commentary and quips for comedians were we living in a country when it was still okay to make fun of politicians.

But such jokes are now verboten because they’re racist, don’t you know? No, really: just ask the folks at HuffPo who have their hemp panties in a wad over a cartoon in today’s NY Post which visually makes that very point. (Note the dead monkey.)

Yeah, it could never be a funny reference to the infinite monkey theorem, could it? Oh for the days when late night comedians, talking about this bill, could have quipped: “You think it takes forever to read the stimulus plan? Think about those thousand monkeys who had to slave* around the clock at their typewriters to come up with it!” (That’s how Gizmodo gets their blog entries, apparently.)

*Aw, gee. I just typed the word slave. I’m not supposed to do that either these days, am I?

UPDATE: Chris Muir explains how President Obama managed to read the bill in its entirety, line by line. (Drink alert.)

I’m no economist. In fact, I can’t even claim to have taken an economics class. So if the following seems clueless and simplistic, please (nicely) help me see where my reasoning is wrong.

See, I’ve been thinking about how our childrens’ children will wind up footing the bill for this stimulus plan. And that got me to wondering… by the same logic, doesn’t that mean that WE have been paying for the FDR deals that helped our grandparents out of The Great Depression?

If that’s the case, perhaps there’s some kind of tie between being burdened with a previous generation’s debts and a tanking present economy.

In other words, did yesterday’s signing of the economic stimulus bill essentially seal the deal guaranteeing another, possibly greater, financial crisis for our grandchildren?