I have a confession to make.

I have been cheating on all of you. About a month ago, I met someone else. Her name is Kelby. We instantly fell in love. Kelby asked me out, and I accepted, and now, about once a week, I wash out my potty mouth and put on my Responsible Outfit and my hot shoes and I go hang out with her.

Last week, without you knowing it, I shared with you one of our exchanges. And you know what? None of you threw rocks at me, no one mentioned the fact that I went one whole post without dropping an F-Bomb. In light of that, I have decided to come clean.

I am blogging somewhere else. Somewhere called Type A Mom. Somewhere where I use my real (first) name and actually attempt, however pathetically, to offer advice. About pre-teens. Yes, that means No Springing the Poop on You. No pictures of my kid in black face. No baby talk at all.

Turns out, writing a mommy blog without talking about toddlers is hard.

I am trying anyway, and, well, um, no one is reading it. It’s a fairly new site. We are on Alltop, though, and if you haven’t checked out Alltop yet, you really should. It’s Guy Kawasaki’s new project, highlighting the best of the best of the blogs (and mine, pity link) and Guy has Excellent Taste in blogs. If you want it, it’s there. Check it, yo.

Anyway, maybe you wouldn’t mind popping in occasionally and telling me to shut the hell up or threaten to call Child Services on me or something? You can find me in the Pre-Teens section. I’ll be waitin’….

So, yeah, I broke up with Blogger. I haven’t actually told Blogger this yet, so keep it on the down-low, K?

Andy at World Wide Rant cleaned out a closet for me, and Judith Shakespeare kindly let me hit her in the head with my stupid-stick for a month or so, and though the curtains aren’t quite up yet, we do have toilet paper and beer, so come on over…

Whiskey in my Sippy Cup. Dot COM, baby! Take 4. I swear I’ll stop moving.

Um, I can’t blog right now. I have to go chain up a girl so I can eat her kids.

Or maybe I could duct tape the kids together and make out with the girl.

Either way.

Before I go, I just want to tell y’all that you rock. You are funny. You are cracking me the hell up with this contest. I let my husband read my blog for the FIRST TIME EVER to show you all off. Also, a few of you need to talk to me more in-depth about what it is I am actually looking for in a one-night-stand Valentine. Lastly, a couple of you can expect restraining orders in you mailboxes soon.

The NEW CARPET is coming in 40 minutes, so we don’t have a lot of time this morning. I wanted to run a few things by y’all, though.

One: This right here?

.Canadian Blogger’s Awards. All you have to do is click a button. If I win, everyone who votes, at the request of Kelly, gets an autographed pair of my undies!*

Two: I am knee-deep in the throws of building my new website. It’s gonna be ready really soon and my blogroll doesn’t have its moving buddies. If you should be on my blogroll and you are not on it, please leave me a comment and I’ll fix that this weekend.

Happy Friday!

*No one is getting an autographed pair of my undies.

UPDATE: Yes,the carpet dude is here. Yes, the new carpets are half way in. And hey? Are you missing summer? Dreaming of Hawaii? Well, come on over. ‘Cause, see, the carpet dude needs the horribly insulated basement to be warm in order to stretch the carpets properly and apparently the only way to achieve that lofty goal is to crank the heat up in my house from Cozy Warm to Fires of Hell. I’ve lost 3 pounds already.

I am screwing with the blog again. This time, however, I brought in the big guns. I hired a professional. A hot professional. More on that, and her, later.

In the meantime, I have to figure out how I want this thing to feel. I most definitely want to add a FAQ section, in the interest of cleaning up some clutter. The problem is that, aside from some incomprehensible Tron conversations and a rather embarrassing round of emails that included fetishes, handcuffs and vertically challenged Americans, no one has really ever asked me a question. Like, ever.

This is where you come in, dear readers. I want an FAQ, I need and FAQ. So here’s the deal. You get to ask me any questions you want. Any. I don’t really have personal boundaries, per se, so ask away. I will do my best to dance around a straightforward answer as humanly possible. The most inappropriate frequently asked ones will get slapped in my fancy new Frequently Asked Vaguely Answered Questions section.

Sounds totally awesome, doesn’t it? Get crackin’, kids.