Oh My God

I am so damn excited.

Check this out. Yes, that did just happen.  How awesome is that?  An entire day with Martha.  She would be forced to hang out with me all day no matter how weird I got.  How amazing would that be?  I could tell her how she unintentionally cracks me up all the time.  I could tell her about this blog and she could be utterly unimpressed.  Best. Day. Ever.

You need to follow that link and try to win and then give me the prize.

What do you get for giving me the greatest prize ever, you ask?

Well, I’m sure Martha (we’re already on a first-name basis) and I will cook some amazing food, and if you help me win, I’ll send you some.

Also, it will make for some great stories that I can share with you.  Then we can laugh and laugh about how I alienated one of my favorite ladies ever.

To get you excited about what this experience will be like, I have written a rough outline of how I expect the day to go.  You will see my day with Martha from my perspective “behind the camera” (since I’ve never actually been blessed with a day with Martha, this is more specifically my perspective “behind the Googles”).

My day with Martha would start with a tour of her house and grounds and I will feel entirely inferior the whole time.  But, then she will take me outside to meet her chickens and I will get to act all smug and uninterested because I am married to a redneck and therefore associate with many people who keep chickens in their backyards.  I am sure Martha’s chickens are superior to other chickens because I bet she helped lay the eggs personally or something.

My Picture of Martha With her Chicken
My Picture of Martha With her Chicken

But, I wouldn’t be able to contain my excitement for long and would end up rambling in an explosion of words about how chickens are my favorite animal because they are simultaneously fluffy and mean, just like me.  Then I would probably tell her about the Russian Dwarf Hamster I had in college named Lars who was awesome and adorable and loved to bite people.  Then I would go on to say how much I love Lars Frederiksen and that’s where Lars got his name.  And then I’d derail and tell her about the time I met Lars and got so excited I giggled and it embarrassed me.  And how there is this annoying guy at work who always tried to one-up everyone and who’s exploits weren’t very believable like the time he said he met Lars and they got in a fight and he beat him up.  My response was something along the lines of, “Well, my dad can beat up your dad.” and that was the moment he went from “the annoying guy at work” to the guy who was such a tool he earned the nickname, “Home Depot”.

This would likely be the point where she interrupts me and asks who Lars Frederiksen is and I would just stare at her silently and shake my head sadly.

Then we would go hang out and make some paper lanterns out of homemade paper from one of the trees in her back yard and I would start to get comfortable and probably make the mistake of being myself.  I’m sure I would say something embarrassing and not think anything of it until she gave me the “why did you just say that?” face.

Yes, that's the face, I know it well.
Yes, that’s the face. I know it well.

But, because she was required by the agreement of the prize, she would spend the rest of the day with me.  So, we’d make lunch.  I’d grind the wheat from her garden into flour and somehow get it all over me.  She would find this funny because she has never seen anyone actually make a mess just by existing.  She’d laugh.  Like this.

"Silly, Czaja.  You are a wonder."
“Silly, Czaja. You are a wonder.”

This would be the point she would start to warm up to me because, let’s be honest, I am charismatic as fuck.  But, then I’d tell her a joke and it would be vulgar and have the word “fuck” in it far too many times so she would give me the polite smile wealthy white women are so good at.

In her mind she's thinking, "I've got to fire whoever came up with this contest."
In her mind she’s thinking, “I’ve got to fire whoever came up with this contest.”

All in all, I’d imagine my day would go so well I would endear myself to her and she wouldn’t even mind that I was inspired to write a blog about how we are exactly the same person if she were a ridiculous hot mess.  Mostly.  But, she’d probably wave goodbye to me like this.

"Go away, crazy lady."
“Go away, crazy lady.”

And then she’d go to her copper mine and pull enough to hand-make new locks for her entire house and install an electric fence around her property because who knows what kind of crazy I associate with.

Really, I would be doing her a service.  Home security should be more of a priority, Martha.

So, go forth.  Win this for me!

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