The Fabled Versatile Blogger Award

What is a Versatile Blogger Award?  Apparently, it looks like this:

and is given to bloggers by other bloggers.  What a lark!  This information was unknown to me until I was nominated (Thank you Sweet 16's Country Kitchen!) and I became aware of the existence of blogger awards.  I'm loving the awesomeness of bloggers who want to support each other, hence the passing around of awards from one blogger to another.  Pretty sweet.

Oh look, rules!  How droll.

1.  One must thank the blogger who gave the award and link their blog.
2.  One must share seven things about one's self of which the general populous may not be informed.
3.  One must give this award to a maximum of 15 other bloggers and include links to their blogs.
4.  One must comment on said blogs to inform said bloggers of said award.

Okeydokey...

The Seven Hithertofor Unknown Truths of My Majestic Self

1.  One time I had this plecostomus fish and it jumped out of the tank and got all dried out.  Later on I found it on my bed, where it had landed, in a pile of small animal figurines, and I thought it was a toy.  I was a little grossed out when I realized the erroneous nature of my assumption.  Ick.
2.  I have a pet snake.  His name is Bob.  He would like to kill me, I think.  But he's not big enough to fit my head into his mouth.  He never stops dreaming, though.  Maybe someday, SOMEDAY, he'll be able to swallow me whole.
3.  I don't always wear a blue shirt, contrary to my (lying) illustrations.  I actually own a whole closet full of clothes.
4.  One time I found a decomposing (think, still has a tongue) deer carcass by the side of the road.  I made my dad stop the car, jumped out, put my foot on the deer's ribs and wrenched the head off by the antlers.  I then proceeded to bring the thing home, dangling it by the antler out the car window.  That was an interesting day for other motorists who passed us.
5.  I do girly things like knit and sew and stuff, despite my often disturbingly-strange behavior.  In fact, a lot of my hobbies are quite normal.
6.  I have an actual, for-real job.  In an office-type place.  And I have a desk and a computer and stuff.
7.  I am on Team Oxford Comma.  As in, you should write "Bacon, orange juice, and toast" rather than "Bacon, orange juice and toast" because option B makes it sound like you poured your orange juice on your toast.  Which is totally fine, if you actually did that.  I'm open to diverse eating habits.

Now, I stroke my imaginary evil beard and twirl my imaginary evil mustache, contemplating my extreme power and my ability to nominate other bloggers.  Maybe I'm having too much fun with this.

1.  Art by Amelia Kay
2.  Colours & Things
3.  A Place of Quiet Rest
4.  The Selfish Seamstress
5.  Peneloping

It's like a plague of nominations.  A good kind of plague.  Like, a plague of daisies or secondhand clothing.  Pass on the plague!  Nominate blogs!  And go to thrift stores.  Although that won't do anything to help support fellow bloggers...but you can't go wrong with secondhand clothes.  You know how it is.

A Sordid Little Story: Timmy Gets a Job

See Timmy.  Timmy is a human teenager.

See Timmy enjoy the fruits of an irresponsible existence and mediocre high school grades.  See him feed on the success of his parents, more or less like a leech.  See him using his anterior suckers and a combination of suction and mucus to attach himself for feeding.  Watch him secreting hirudin, an anticoagulant enzyme, into the bloodstream of the host.  Timmy is disgusting.

Look, here comes Timmy's high school diploma!  Timmy is now a jobless graduate with no purpose in life. 

Here come Timmy's parents.  Run, Timmy, run!  Too thick-skulled to sense the impending danger, Timmy is coerced into an office job requiring endless menial labor.  

See the effects of work and responsibilities catch up with Timmy.  See them stalk him and take him down like the grim reaper or some sort of joy-killing wraith.  Watch him crumble from the inside out.  Watch his soul evaporate and his hopes and dreams form a puddle on the floor.  

See Timmy hang himself with his own tie.  

Look, here come Timmy's relatives!  Watch them squabble over Timmy's secondhand clothes. 

See Timmy's father.  See him look at Timmy's suicide tie.  The tie is made of silk.  It is an expensive tie.  Timmy's father wants it for himself.  See him abscond with the tie.  See him wear it himself, with one of Timmy's shirts.

See Timmy's mother.  She is annoyed by the funeral arrangements, but at least now she can go back to school and get a degree.  See Timmy's mother and father slow-dancing in the living room.  

See Timmy's picture, forgotten in a box of Aunt Maude's chinaware and discarded knee-highs.  Watch everybody forget about Timmy.  Such is the fate of all slacking teenagers unhappily thrust into employment.

The End.