Neglect.

My poor little blog has fallen by the wayside as of late, ever since I got a job.

(*GASP!* Did you hear that? She got a job!")

Okay, not real job in the sense that it requires me to show up for 40 hours a week, smile politely at people while writing passive-aggressive notes and sticking them in the breakroom, or wearing a bra, but a job in the sense that it's something to break up the monotony of saving my kid from smashing her head onto the hardwood floor YET AGAIN, or smearing fingerprints all over Daddy's VERY EXPENSIVE LCD TV, and I get money for it.

I can't tell you where, per se, but I am a "guide" of sorts for a text-messaging service where people from all over the country text in random questions and guides such as myself answer them. I'm a professional Googler.

I've been doing this for about a month now, and it's addictive. Every question I answer, I make about 15 cents (some categories are worth more than others, 20 cents being the highest). I gotta say, it's not a bad rap, considering I spend a good four hours on the computer, and it's this or I sit and read Perez Hilton for hours on end. And you can only look at pictures with cum paint-shopped onto them for so long before you start picturing it on the faces of everyone you encounter throughout the day.

For the most part, I keep busy answering sports scores (because I'm a sports guru and it's one of my specialities), but for some unknown reason, I am also frequently bombarded by questions from adolescents wanting to know how to deal with the awkward relationships that create the cruel joke that is the pre-teen years.

Which really, I'm hardly one to give advice on. My pre-teen years were awkward at best, hell on average. I had one boyfriend in that time frame, Cory Jones, whom I dated most of seventh grade and he broke up with me in health class the same day we were doing our CPR certification tests, so I was choking on snot and tears while trying to revive a plastic dummy. No amount of alcohol swabs could clean that dummy off for the poor soul forced to use it after me. But yeah, he was the new kid in school and basically I nabbed him up before he could realize that I was a pathetic loser who was obsessed with the Spice Girls and stuffed her bra. (He never did discover the latter. We never rounded first base, thankyouverymuch.)

So now here I am as a 20-something, trying to pass myself off as confident and socially adept just because I got married and spawned, and trying to give relationship advice to 13-year-olds. And really, the only way I'm capable of dishing out such advice (and being paid for it, no less) is with a couple glasses of wine, or shots of rum, in me. Because 13-year-olds are so horribly awkward and socially retarded anyway -- the best advice they can receive should come from a 23-year-old recluse drinking herself to a sunny buzz while sitting on her couch wearing the same clothes for a third day in a row. I KNOW BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN THERE, DAMNIT.

My favorite question I was asked, which I must say I was pleasantly swimming in my third glass of wine, was, "What do I do if my parents catch me fingering my girlfriend?"

I pondered this for a minute. Sat and swirled my cheap box chardonnay in its glass, pondered life for a minute, then responded, with my sage wisdom: "Remove your finger."

This is pretty much the norm for what I get asked. Lots of relationship questions, such as, "What do I do if I just had sex with my father?" (Answer: "Incest is illegal, and if you are under 16, it is also child molestation.) and explaining every sexual position from 69 to the Wobbly H. Wanna know? Because I know and I will tell you. So help me God, I will get drunk and I will tell you.

Other questions that I have saved in my top 5 for this week:

Q. Can a 13 point 5 in dick kill a girl?"
A. Most vaginas are only four inches in length, so chances are the girl may feel discomfort, but will not die from it

Q. Where can we buy 7 pounds of weed in Orem, Utah tonight?
A. The Orem City Police Department is located at 95 East Center, Orem, UT 8407. Phone number is (801) 229-7070.

Q. What if I'm a girl with a penis?
A. If you are a female and have a naturally grown penis, you may have questions beyond what I can answer.

Q. Can I have a line to make me sound smart?
A. I just sent a text to a complete stranger asking them to make me sound smart!

Q. Is it possible to get more than one penis lengthening surgery?
A. Men with penile dysmorphic disorder were particularly likely to be dissatisfied with the surgery's results.

Look for this to become a regular feature of the blog; at least as long as I remember to do it, or until I get legal action threatened, which is how past regular features on my blog have ended.