I'm It

I've been blog-tagged, or memed (which I pronounce maimed with mee-meed as my second favorite "don't bother to google it" possibility . . . actually, I did google it earlier, but I can't remember seeing a pronunciation guide, but I digress . . . pretty much for a living) by Steph, and I think it looks like a fun one.

Five to ten courses you would take to fix your life, including one class suggested by the person who maimed you (yeah, I'm just going to change the spelling in a passive-aggressive attempt to make you pronounce the word my way).

I would definitely at least audit Steph's Sleep: It's Really More Important Than Blogging, Even Though You Beg To Differ.

Then I'd enroll in How to Stop Parenthesizing (Because It Really Is a Problem {although not your most pressing one}).

I suppose I could use a refresher in Telecommuting Negotiation: How to Effectively Broker a Work-from-Home Deal With Your Employer.

Advanced Bud-Nipping: Preventing Your Worst Behaviors from Manifesting Themselves in Your Four Year Old could come in real handy right about now.

Maybe the most urgent, if not the most important, class for me would be Putting on Your Blinders: The Lost Art of Preventing Memories of 1980s Saturday Morning Cartoons from Distracting You on the Way to Get Coffee And Endless Other Sidetracking Pitfalls. Really. I have a problem.

One I'd hate, but I need . . . Put Putting Off Until Later Until Later: How to Hit Deadlines Simply by Rescheduling Procrastination for Another Time.

Aaaand . . . Seriously: How to Make It Through an Entire Conversation or Meeting Without Cracking a Joke. I would so fail.

Alright, and I suppose I'll tag people this time . . . here goes nothing. If you don't want to be tagged, forgive me, and please don't tell me. I still haven't taken Social Anxiety 101: Everyone Doesn't Hate You, and Even If They Did, They Wouldn't Tell You . . . Isn't That Good Enough?

Bare
CoCo
A-Ron
Toddled Dredge