First off, clap your hands and say hey yo hey yo.
Clap your hands and say, woot woot.
Clap your hands and say, yeeee haw!
Today we raise da roof, cause honey’s, the haus is back … or at least it’s starting to look that way.
If the haus were to come back, to be New.Improved.AndNowWithLessGas, there’s something you need to know: the format is changing.
In its previous incarnation, Hannihaus was fairly Seinfeldian—it was (mostly) a blog about nothing, unless you are solely obsessed with fart jokes and diarrhea diatribes, in which case it was a blog about everything.
The thing is, I hate Seinfeld. I hate Seinfeld so much that when I flip through the TV channels and it comes on the screen, I keep right on flipping. I flip to the next screen, even if the next screen has some crappy sports show, even if the next screen is a Billy Mays As-Seen-On-TV infomercial spectacular (God rest his Orange-Glo lovin’ soul).
The old haus kept readers at arm’s length, didn’t really let you know what was authentically important to me. Only towards The End did it include stories that were a little less mirthful, a little more truthful. When I refer to The End, of course, I am referring to the end of frantic posting which used to be the hallmark of this well-tended blog. I am also referring to the end of my marriage which, of course, coincided with the end of posting. It was too hard to write about happy when the only way to access a semblance of such things was with a head full of Xanax.
Not so long ago, as part of my New Life, I bought a road bike. It’s pink. Her name is Miss Piggy. Before Piggy it had been many years since I’d ridden a bike. My first time back in the saddle, I immediately fell ass-over-teakettle. The only thing more painful than my banged up buttocks was the knowledge that I’d fallen publicly (at an event) and without grace. If I was being judged, if falling were a competitive sport, my aerial antics would’ve ranked me a “2”.
So here I am, getting back on that metaphorical bicycle. I’m want to start blogging again, I really do. This time I’m going to be more … well, me, whatever that entails. I hope you will come along for the ride.
I promise it won’t hurt … well maybe a little … and only me, not you.
