Listless Mondays are the most popular regular feature on ABDPBT. Here's how it works: each Monday, I publish a post in the form of a list. Usually it is funny, but sometimes it is just bizarre. Some of the more popular lists I've come up with include:
If you'd like to join in the fun of Listless Mondays, all you need to do is post a list on your own blog, and then swing by ABDPBT next Monday and leave me a comment telling me about it. I'll post a link to your list in the text of my post, and stop by your place to see what you've come up with. If you want, you can also grab a button to show everyone you're participating in Listless Mondays by copying this code:
Please note that the code needs to be pasted into the "html" text input box in Wordpress. I have heard that people using blogger have trouble showing the button in their posts, but it does work on their sidebars.
Lists from other Mondays appear below. Be sure to troll through and leave me a comment if you see something you enjoy!
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The part in the Dyson ad where they show you how the little cyclone things don’t ever lose suction, and make you look at computer-animated dust particles blowing around in a circle.
Whatever meal deal is currently going down at KFC.
Nope. I don’t care what you say — it’s gross.
Steam coming off the chicken. Steam coming off the chicken.
Also anything involving gravy.
The ongoing toilet clogging saga on Jersey Shore.
The entire cast of Jersey Shore‘s makeup and wardrobe choices.
The prank story arc of Jersey Shore, particularly with its recent addition of dogs not being walked on time and being allowed to roam the house at will.
Really, just everything about Jersey Shore, when you think about it.
The witch dragon lady mother of Marisol on The Real Housewives of Miami.
“Mare-ee-sol! Mare-ee-sol! I did not marry a gringo to have paper flowers! I married a gringo, Mare-ee-sol, so I could pour red wine into my dragonlady mouth every afternoon!”
Shrimp specials at Red Lobster.
Law and Order: SVU in HDTV.
Anybody who works as a weatherperson on TV, being filmed in HDTV.
Every time somebody gets injured in an NBA game.
I would add the audio tracks from NFL games, except I don’t watch the NFL, mercifully.
[Another walk down memory lane, courtesy of my hyperemesis! Yay! This post originally appeared on March 22, 2010, but I've added a few updates so that it's reflective of the current state of the hatemail universe. That's right -- from my sick bed, I've done this, so they extra bitter and nasty.]
My hate mail can dish it out, but it sure can’t take it.
My hate mail needs to take a good, long look at itself.
My hate mail must live in a miserable little world of its own making.
My hate mail is the most desperately sad hate mail in a hate mail universe full of sad hate mail.
My hate mail seems to have appointed itself the watchdog of the hate mailosphere.
My hate mail really thinks it’s clever, doesn’t it?
My hate mail is small-minded and petty, but its teeth are pristine.
My hate mail really wanted to like your hate mail.
My hate mail is not a journalist, but what’s sad is some other hate mail might think it is.
My hate mail exploits its children for free trips to Disney.
For every one finger that my hate mail points at other hate mail, there are still three hateful fingers pointing back at itself.
My hate mail signs all of its notes with hugs and kisses — just to fuck with me.
My hate mail eats your hate mail for breakfast. With syrup.
My hate mail saw your hate mail at the mall, and made fun of its shoes.
I saw my hate mail drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic’s. Its hair was perfect.
My hate mail brings all the boys to the yard.
And they’re like, my hate mail’s better than yours.
My hate mail could teach you, but it would have to charge.
My hate mail doesn’t even follow your hate mail back on Twitter.
If my hate mail did ever follow your hate mail on Twitter, it would only be under a fake account.
Or maybe my hate mail would follow your hate mail back on Twitter, but only so it could put your hate mail in its “BORING” column on TweetDeck.
Actually, my hate mail has followed, unfollowed, and refollowed your hate mail like fifty times in the last month.
Finally what my hate mail decided to do was just to not follow you on Twitter, and instead put you on the private list of people it totally hates, but with whom it still wants to stay totally up to date in real time.
Since we are talking about what your hate mail does on Twitter anyway, we should also note that what it might do is obliquely reference a general practice of idiots calling other people idiots. Then it would say that it was too bad that idiots are too dumb to appreciate the irony.
And you would agree with that sentiment, wholeheartedly. More than your hate mail could possibly ever understand.
Although not technically incorrect, you would remain a little uncomfortable with the usage of the modifier ‘delicious’ to describe irony.
Then you would consider the source.
My hate mail always bounces itself off a server in Australia.
My hate mail really knows how to bury an IP address.
My hate mail always steals detergent from your hate mail at the laundromat.
My hate mail sometimes forgets to flush the toilet.
If my hate mail goes to throw something away, and sees that the garbage can is full, my hate mail NEVER empties it.
My hate mail really needs to start a “sour grapes” feature and just transfer about 80 percent of its content to it.
Try as it might, my hate mail just can’t seem to turn that frown upside down.
Who will speak up for the children — my hate mail wonders — if not my hate mail?
My hate mail no longer confines itself to just mail — please ‘like’ it on Facebook.
Sometimes I’ll quote my hatemail to stir up a frenzy among my readers about the outrageousness of it all.
Then, a few months later I’ll quote the hatemail again just to make it seem like it’s a new outbreak of hatemail. But really it’s just the same old stale hatemail that I already wrung my hands about a few weeks ago. My readers never notice this.
If they were to notice, though, what would happen is that I would write a philosophical post about why the hatemail had to be quoted twice in order to be fully absorbed, and then if people objected (they wouldn’t), I would explain that probably they don’t understand because they never started an advanced degree program and never finished.
This, in turn, would lead to more hatemail. Which is the whole point!
Got a list to share? Here’s what to do:
Write a “list” post on your blog.
Copy this code, and paste in the text of your post:
Either comment or email me at anna at abdpbt dot com to let me know you’re participating, and I’ll link you up below.
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ONLINE DATING CHRONICLES
Sure, I eventually met my husband, Mr. Right-Click, through online dating. But not before I had dated nearly one hundred of Los Angeles' least suitable bachelors. Laugh along in my Online Dating Chronicles.
Sometimes I like to muckrake. You can read about it here. Oh, and here too. Listen, if I don't do it, that muck will just keep piling up until we have to call a roto-rooter. So really, you should thank me. You're welcome.
You know, you slave away at blog posts day after day, you try to write fiction, you try to provide interesting social commentary, but at the end of the day, they come for the lists. Check out List Mondays to see what all the hullabaloo is about, because I sure as hell cannot explain it.
OTHER ABDPBT BLOGS
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Tech for mommy bloggers. Or bloggers who aren't mommies, but hang out with them. Or Dads. Whatever.
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This is where I post stuff that I think is cool. Maybe you will think it's cool, too.
If you'd prefer to peruse the ABDPBT archives by month, you can check them out here:
Los Angeles is where I was born and raised. I always thought I'd leave, but for some reason I never did. Sometimes, I like it here. Other times, I'm not so sure. But good or bad, it has made me who I am.
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Sometimes I take the melodrama of my life and twist and turn it until it looks almost charming. I do this because I want you to like me:
Assburger: It's not just a disorder on the autism spectrum: it's also one of your relatives!
On Truth: Sometimes somebody will say something and it hurts your feelings. And then you will write a story about it and your aunt will call it "phenomenal." Everyone else will try to pretend like it never happened.
The Sheer And Unmitigated Power of Bob Mould: Sometimes you spend your formative years obsessed by an unrequited teenage crush, and then one day you realize that person is now an orthopedic surgeon who lives in your neighborhood. It kinda sucks when that happens.
Ben From Madera: For one Halloween, Ben dressed up like a bee, like that kid in the Blind Melon video. That's how I will always remember him.
He is my best friend, even if he uses a PC. And the fact that sometimes he will pretend to be a "Pancake Pirate" is only part of the reason. Arrrr!
His cutie-pie percentile group is off the charts.
If you think this is just about exercise, then you have underestimated how wildly inappropriate people can be when they undergo physical pain in a group setting.
Mini: The Fame
My name is Anna. I like to blog. ABDPBT is a creative effort at understanding my experience as a wife, mother, recovering academic, popular culture enthusiast, satirist, and unrepentant fake American.