If life is a buffet (or a buffet is a buffet, for that matter), then I believe one should heap as much onto one's plate as possible. Even if it's such an irresponsible amount that you wind up missing deadlines, cheating yourself out of sleep, and dropping a trail of overboard pasta salad on the way back to your table. What's happening to this metaphor?
What I'm getting at is that I signed on to be one of a group of 30 fantastic writers (wait, that makes it sound like I'm saying that I think I'm fantastic) contributing to a blogging collective of sorts. Don't make me tell you what it's called.
Okay, fine. It's called Pooping Rainbows. No, I had nothing to do with the title.
Each blogger gets one day a month to post. Mine is the 27th... which is today! So check me out, and all of the equally amazing (there, I did it again) writers.
Oh, and I wrote one last month on the 27th too that I failed to mention. Whoops. (If you look for it, it's posted by "Peter." Don't be alarmed. The side-blogging is the extent of my secrecy. There is no male alter-ego.)