Howdy! I hope it’s not too late but I just submitted one of my blobs to a Consumer Cellular essay contest for grandparents. If you will be so kind, please vote for my entry every day between now and August 10. You can vote on it once per day until midnight Eastern time on August 10.
It doesn’t cost anything and it’s super-easy to vote for it or to click a link for the URL to your Facebook or Twitter to ask friends to do it. And remember, voting is patriotic! It’s the American way!
The 100 entries with the most votes will become semi-finalists. Then the Consumer Cellular judges will take over, selecting 50 of those as finalists. I have to tell you, though, that due to my proclivity in always being a day late and a dollar short, my entry doesn’t have a chance in hell of winning. This is because
1. the contest – and the voting – actually started on June 1st – about 7 weeks ago. So there’s only 17 days left to vote,
2. my essay may too irreverent for the readers’ or the judges’ taste,
3. the prizes involve traveling, but my handlers never allow me to go outside the house,
3. and, darn it all, I don’t own a cellular phone, a disparity the contest rules claims not to hold against me, but that’s a likely story!
You may remember the blob. It was number 12, posted last September 17, 2010. Titled “Grandmother Dearest”. Look for my name – Patricia Ford – no, not Octo-woman. Octo-woman is way too genteel to participate in such vulgar stunt.
Here’s the link. Please vote today and every day so as not to embarrass me any further than necessary.
We’ll be friends for life.
Here, in case you didn’t read it or don’t remember it, is the blob as it originally appeared on goingon80.
Title: GRANDMOTHER DEAREST
I just love being adored. It’s definitely the high point of grandparenting 14 grandchildren.
It’s so sweet how granddaughter TT (short for Teresa) always refers to me as “Grandmother Dearest”.
TT says she’s going to use that as the title of a book she’s planning to write about me. She seems grimly determined to work on this project. I can hardly wait to read it. Maybe I’ll become famous. Maybe they’ll make a movie about me.
Her mother, my daughter Gretchen, isn’t impressed. Terror-stricken would be more like it. But I said to her, “Look, Gretchen, it’s okay. A good life story can’t just talk about the laundered stuff — It’s gotta show warts and all.”
And it’s true. TT can’t just brag about the heroic stuff — like how fast I can chase cars, or about the time I stepped on the attack spider who was going to bite her cousin Joy and the rest of them were too cowardly and powerless to do battle. Or the time I forgot to feed TT’s tropical fish while she was at camp, and then adroitly replaced his corpse with a goldfish from the pet store in case she wouldn’t notice.
No, if she brings up my achievements, she should touch briefly, at least, on my fluent lying and petty thievery. I can accept that. I certainly don’t want TT’s readers to get the impression that I’m perfect, like Mother Teresa or Oprah. I’m not even “almost perfect”. I’m just kind of semi-perfect. Like my home-popped popcorn – almost tasty, but kind of burnt.
For the past three weeks, TT has been in Costa Rica studying Spanish. I wanted to go too, but she said that she was tragically devastated to learn that grandmothers are never allowed in Costa Rica – EVER.
She’s supposed to get home on Monday. If she still remembers how to speak English, we’re going to have to have a sit-down to discuss her plans. No way is that kid going to keep all those royalties for herself. No way in hell.
Well, I guess that’s all for tonight, children. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.
From Grandmother Dearest