I’ll admit it: I’ve been ignoring the “awards” I’ve been getting. Not because they don’t make me swell with pride and not because they don’t make me feel like my little words might actually resonate with people, but because I’m lazy. Plain and simple. Yep, I admit it.
So, I’m going to fix all this and get my ass in gear. I’ll tell you about the kudos, their rules, and then I’m – gasp – gonna follow them!
I got my first award from The Food and Wine Hedonist less than two weeks after I started. I think I was in utter disbelief. And I’m suck a dick, that I could have sworn it was a chick who gave me the award, but it turns out that there are both a man and a woman who pen the blog (a blog who fully supports my intense love of food and wine, mind you, and which supported my Top Chef Texas addiction this year – woo, good stuff!!).
They write great shit about food, drink, and generally just enjoying the fuck outta yourself.
From those lovely folks I got The Liebster Blog Award . It’s given to up-and-coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers. Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kindly, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.
The rules for the Liebster Blog Award are:
- Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
- Link back to the blogger who awarded you.
- Copy & paste the blog award on your blog
- Reveal your 5 blog picks.
- Let them know you chose them by posting on their blog.
YES> THANK YOU, Food and Wine Hedonist! This made my damn month in December and I haven’t forgotten about it, I’ve just been a dick about it, I swear!
The 5 that I nominate are:
[Oh, shit, some of y’all are gonna get double-whammied.]
Mostly this shout out means to me that I always check your feeds for new stuff and I get a little thrill when I see a new post waiting for me.
Next up are a bunch of TMI Awards. I got this one from no less than, um, lemme see, 3 other writers (God, I hope I’m not missing one – but then again, I’m a dick blogger, remember??). Shocking, I know. I mean, I guess it was pretty unavoidable from Post #1 wherein I chat about pooping on some dude. I’m not even remotely sure how that’s top-able. Anyway…
The TMI Blog Award honors those blogs that discuss everything in detail and do it well. These bloggers aren’t afraid to discuss their most awkward, embarrassing and intimate experiences with honesty, humor and little to no filter.
Here are the rules:
- Thank the person who presented you with the award.
- Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.
- Share an awkward, embarrassing and intimate story in 250 words or less.
- Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
- Present the TMI Blog Award to 5 – 10 deserving blogs.
- Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.
SO> THANK YOU to sage and appreciative, Theo Black; my sweet and dirty object of affection and longing, Bimodal Tendancies; and the always enigmatic, yet loving mother hen, Gillian Colbert. I am honored and touched that you guys enjoy my raunchy, no-holds-barred approach to sharing the most intimate details of my life with the whole goddamned world. It means a lot to me. Really.
Let’s see, another most embarrassing moment in 250 words or less. Hmm. Well, ok, when I was 10 I was in love with a 10 year old boy. I wrote his name on my shoes, on my jeans, and all my friends supported my crush. I contrived playdates with his little sister just so I could go to his house.
I was on a year round swim team then and he was, too. One night during a kicking set (we were on kickboards, so could talk to one another), he says, “Hey, Hyacinth! Can I talk to you after practice outside the girls’ locker room??”
My heart raced as I said yes.
Getting dressed with my friend, who seemed to be closer to my love interest and his friends than I was, was all agiggle with me, wondering what he wanted to say to me and what would I do? Maybe he’d ask me out! Oh my gawd. He’d be my first boyfriend ever.
I dressed in a yellow and white polka dot outfit with matching, contrasting leggings, grabbed my swim bag and went outside the building.
Waiting for me were more than just this boy. There were 10 other kids of varying ages and sexes there, too. I stood in one corner created by the privacy walls and he in the other. Two piles of kids behind each of us.
He begins to rock back and forth on his heels. My heart is about to break my ribcage.
“Hy…” he says, “Will you??”
Oh holy fucking shit, I think. This is it!! I’m about to have a boyfriend! “Yeah? Will I what?”
“Will you go out with me?”
YES! It’s happened! I’m normal! I’m gonna have a boyfriend!!
“Yes,” I say with as much coolness as I could muster.
And then. And then, he smoothly says, “Syke.”
All the kids start laughing, my little girlfriend most of all. I dropped my bag and ran and hid in the parking lot until my parents came to find me. It was a seminal moment in my life. And certainly not the good kind.
How’s that for embarrassing? Not what you were expecting, was it?
Later in 10th grade he had a crush on me. When I rebuked his advances he called me a muffdiver and a dyke. Senior year he confronted me about my outright and vocal hatred of him. I simply said, “Because I fucking hate you for what you did to me.” He said, “But we were 10!” To which I said very plainly, “I DON’T FUCKING CARE. YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE.”
Next is an award from sweet, newly discovered Noodle (she said I could call her that, by the way). I have to add the award to my post, share 7 things none of you know about me and nominate another 7 (ok, this shit’s getting harder now…).
Ok, 7 Things Y’all Don’t Already Know About Hyacinth Jones:
- I have four names. My parents were hippies and my mother never changed her last name. They thought that by giving me her maiden name as my second middle would give me the freedom of choosing a last name later on. Of course it didn’t, but I’ve always loved having more names than most. Unfortunately, Hyacinth Jones is not my birth name. Such a shame.
- I have two other, now retired, sex blogs. That’s right. I was another person out there baring my soul for a while on a different blogging platform. I’d made the enormous mistake of telling some lovers about it and it hobbled my writing freedom. It was during the Troy months and I couldn’t speak freely about how he was affecting me. Whenever I post an “old” memory, I’m pirating from the one that’s still live and then I delete it all together so it only exists here and no one can make the connection.
- I am 5’5″ on the nose, 43″ 32″ 44″.
- When I eat eggplant the roof of my mouth feels like I’ve eaten toasted sourdough bread.
- I’m allergic to all the -cillins and any derivative. It makes for an interesting conversation with every doctor I’ve ever had. “Let me prescribe Z-Pack.” “I can’t have that…” “…”
- My first sexual experience at the age of 7 was with a girl.
- I have only ever been told by one man in my life that he dreamed of locking me in a hotel room for a week to fuck me senseless, taking breaks only to eat (to refuel) and occasionally shower (to see me wet and lathered). All these years, and only one man. And it was today. And, no, it was not The Neighbor. Please, people. We all know he’s a bit behind the 8 ball on shit like that.
Ok, now for my 7 nominees. I’ll pick writers whom haven’t had to list things like this before, so I choose:
I’m extremely interested in the 7 things we don’t already know about you.
Lastly, Love gave me a wonderful shout out on Love, Sex, and Marriage a while back and I’d like to return the favor. Her energy, verve, straight forward and honest writing inspires me every time I pass by her 1s and 0s. She’s also a magician when it comes to fiction, though she rarely goes there instead preferring to educate the lot of us on how to have better sex.
I imagine that if I knew her IRL we’d be a force to be reckoned with. And, who can forget that tantalizing picture of her lovely, creamy white bottom? Delish, I say. So, thanks, sweetie. The feelings are all mutual.
And, with that, I conclude my “I’m a dick blogger” post. I promise to here on out always promptly respond to others’ kindnesses.
Fuck, I’m feeling warm and fuzzy now. Time to go rub one out, I suppose.