HELLO I AM SHERI 49. Or Sherrie. Or Shery.

I welcome you to my "web log" or "internet web site."

My "posts" are below.

I'm writing an e-book which will go into the "humor essay" category on Amazon. "Humor" is widely known to be the toughest genre of all. "No one will buy a humor book by a non-professional comedian." I hate those fucking naysayer know-it-alls and want to prove them all wrong, don't you?

A View From My Window

As I’ve said, we live in a beautiful area called Hideola Estates. It’s pretty swanky. And we live next to one of the most elegant homes in the subdivision. The Shithole.

These photos were taken yesterday.

First up. You know, I’m sure, that it’s always good to have a ladder handy for home “improvement” projects and the like. This ladder has been on his roof for at least five years now. I see it from my office window and it inspires my writing, my mood. Every day. Behold:

A ladder should always be stored away from inquisitive children, who could be injured playing with it. The roof is a surefire way to keep the youngsters away from your ladder collection.
A ladder should always be stored away from inquisitive children, who could be injured playing with it. The roof is a surefire way to keep the youngsters away from your ladder collection.

Landscaping. People just settle for the “green moustache” hedge around the house. Or a tidy lawn. Perhaps a pot with flowers near the front door.

BOR-ING.

Our neighbor thinks outside the box AND is eco-friendly about it as well. It’s genius. He knows that sometimes it’s best to just let nature do its thing. Some of the most remarkable vistas in our world are entirely nature-made. For example:

Flowers. They are pretty. Just growing out there all free and untended.
Flowers. They are pretty. Just growing out there all free and untended.

Neighbor, thinking out loud: “What if … I let nature infuse the actual DESIGN of my home? BRING NATURE INSIDE?”

He's incorporated nature into the actual design of his home in a clever and eco-friendly way.
He’s incorporated nature into the actual design of his home in a clever and eco-friendly way.

TOUCH OF WHIMSY. There is nothing so dull and cliched as something like a small sun dial or bench in the garden, so our neighbor created “PVC-HENGE.” It’s only become more lovely over the decade. Mainly, though, it’s a real ice-breaker when visitors come to our front door. We all stand about, awkwardly. “Welcome to our home.” Yadda yadda. Thankfully, someone will inevitably glance over at the neighbor’s place. It breaks the silence and fake chitchat.

“What the fuck is that?!”
“Oh, yes. That’s PVC-Henge.”
“WTF? It looks like PVC just sticking out of the ground next to that house. DEAR GOD THAT IS WEIRD AND UGLY.”
“No, it’s whimsical.”
“It’s not whimsical, Sherry, it’s fucking garbage. With weeds all around it. Can’t you complain to someone?”
“Oh we did, years now. It’s a whimsical garden ornament. The county said so. So did the HOA.”

A fun, creative garden ornament -- PVC-Henge -- delights the senses and engages the mind.
A fun, creative garden ornament — PVC-Henge — delights the senses and engages the mind.

Inspiring Post That Will End Up In The Dustbuster Of Internet History

Hey people, just FYI …

I’m in this, uh, contest. I could win stuff, I guess, but that’s not why I’m in it. I’m only in it for the brief attention it might bring me. Sheer ego. No one knows I exist and I want to kick Amy Poehler off the charts on Amazon someday soon. The contest is How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life (hosted by Positive Writer).

LeeAnn: OMFG, H!!! Get in here! Sherrie’s site’s been hijacked! She’s being held captive and can’t speak for herself. We must act. After dinner.

H: Held? Captive? How can you be certain? Did another of her not-so-appealing-when-still-attached-either body parts arrive in the mail today?

LeeAnn: No but she’s posted on her blog and she’s used THE DURESS PHRASE as a signal, per our arrangement.

H: Ah. Of course. “Positive influence.” I am alarmed indeed. But who would do such a thing?

LeeAnn: It looks like someone is forcing her to write about “the positive influence writing has had on her life, so as to inspire others.” Obviously the real Shery would never write about that. So I conclude that Cherry’s captors are intent on destroying Sherie’s reputation as premier purveyor of the Faux Outrage With a Side of WTF genre of ‘humor’ writing.

Oh just everyone STAND THE FUCK DOWN. Contest, yes. But how? you ask.

I followed a link that led to a link that led to this MUST-CLICK LINK, you know? I was here. Then I was there. Everything went black(er).

Ya know, you reglurrs here have missed an important point about me all this time: I’m widely known, revered, as a positive-thinker. I’ve long been the torch-carrier for all positive thinking for decades, on the internet, and in my writing career in general.

As a young writer, Positive Chery looked nothing like this and would never be smiling at the beach. She was attacked by a jellyfish and told to PEE on the sting to get it to stop, per quaint local custom.
As a young writer, Positive Chery looked nothing like this and would never be smiling at the beach. She was attacked by a jellyfish and told to PEE on the sting to get it to stop, per quaint local custom.

Nah. I write snarky, non-PC crap that’s pretty much rife with four-letter words. Done this all my life. Which is why you’ve never heard of me.

Time now for a LIST. A listy list of positive things that writing has done for me, over the decades.

1. Writing has kept me from killing people.

2. As a by-product of that, writing’s kept me out of the criminal justice system, which as you know is pretty nasty, what with prison overcrowding. Although, I would definitely be running the place after that first encounter or two in the shower. You know I would.

3. Writing has kept me from killing people.

4. Writing has given me something to do when I’m not busy spreading my message of positivity and hope worldwide via my personal empowerment action network, “SHERI 49’S FUCK IT, JUST ZAP THAT IDIOT NEXT TO YOU IN LINE WITH A TASER AND WAIT FOR THE POLICE.”

Say. Reminds me. Did I tell you about how I was surfing around and found all these hugely successful websites telling you how to blog?

HOW. TO. BLOG. Because “blogging” is this mysterious thing, and you “could” be mastering it if only you were clued in.

Internet User 1: Gosh, I would love to TRY blogging, but I just have no idea how to do it.
Internet User 2: I know. If only there were people who could TEACH me. A “community.” A network of bloggers. Something like that?
Internet User 3: Crazy talk. Wonder if there are any bloggers who would sound just like me, who write using My Special Voice that appeals to a massive readership?
Internet User 4: Yes, Internet User 3, you have a unique style that is reminiscent of that of Internet User 2.

Pay me and I WILL TEACH YOU THE SECRETS OF SUCCESSFUL BLOGGING. Join my forum that I don’t have but I would make if you paid me. And sign up for my newsletter and get your trucker hat and key chain. I WILL TEACH YOU the SECRETS of how to find readers and keep them ENGAGED and coming back for MORE of your CONTENT, and blah blah blah … HOW IT IS ON STAINS?

I like pie.
I like pie.

Holy crap. Who buys that shit? A lot of people, apparently. This is why spam still happens. FACT: SOMEONE IS STILL CLICKING ON STUPID SHIT. IF THEY WEREN’T, SPAMMERS WOULD STOP. FACT: the Gen Pop are idiots. As I may have pointed out before. At the risk of tarnishing my positive-outlook gig, I’ll be blunt: to me, the whole writing thing has become this ugly, homogenized, “marketing and content strategy” scheme. I see those sites and I can’t read past the first three words. The “content” is ALL THE FUCKING SAME. FAKE PEOPLE! SMILEY FACE! Yawn.

At least with me, you may not know 1) what the fuck I’m talking about; and 2) you may be frightened and offended by my writing and never return. But I won’t be FAKE. I’m me, and consistently inconsistent. I write what I like and that changes a lot. So you get the frothing about nothing and the repetition and the ALL CAPS. I do this because I hold out this weird, naive, hope that there are a few like minds out there and WAIT A MINUTE THIS IS WHY I WRITE — trying to locate the others. The others in my landing party. I must find them so we can do the secret handshake and mock the rest of the Gen Pop. That is fun, and fun is why I write at this stage in my life. It’s certainly not for money, is it? NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID BLOG SHERRY. Oops, may have slipped out of my positive thing briefly there.

Most of the truly creative writers, IMHO, labor in relative anonymity and that (spoiler alert) “irks” me.

I bet I win this contest!

Wow writing that actually caused me physical pain.

Faux Outrage and Confusion

I have been in a “What the fuck IS IT, EXACTLY, that you want me to write for you?” back-and-forth with the main chick who runs a huge conglomerate of humor sites, for a few weeks now.

The back and forth emails between us always begin with a profoundly surprised and apologetic, “Did I drop the ball or did you???” and ends with neither of us getting at all upset about anything, because we TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND SHIT. So we just go back to the beginning “initial contact” demeanor — complete with re-introductions and general getting-to-know-you greetings. Again.

I like her. You know, she’s probably writing on her personal blog (I don’t know if she has one), right now:

I’ve had it with these flaky-ass wannabe contributors. Got this one, goes by the name Sheri 49. WTF kinda name? Anyway, she emails me and says we were talking about something or other, and I have no idea what she means but I play along because, internet stranger danger and all. I try not to feed the trolls.

She may be reading this now, too, so everyone please behave. I would really like to get the job. They would pay me something. She says “not much,” but it’s the idea of being paid for whatever the fuck this is that I write that appeals to my inner grabby-hands serial-killer anyway, to be honest.

I think this woman may be near my age and thus she is equally as forgetful. The two of us will probably just do this back and forth “query and response” thing a few years, ‘til one of us succumbs to death. Which brings me to my next point.

Someone, at my funeral, please, say this: “… AND IN CONCLUSION … it was a life well-lived. She answered all emails. Tried to write things. Talked a great deal about writing something, in fact. We will miss not knowing what it was that she would have written.”

I want very badly to use this particular ampersand, so here it is.
I want very badly to use this particular ampersand, so here it is.

(Sorry about the ampersand non sequitur, but I’ve had that thing on my hard drive for a year or two, thinking “I gotta use this somewhere.” So here it is. Maybe I will put it in posts, just randomly, here and there, with no explanation after today. Someone will eventually write about it somewhere. “That blog that had that ampersand showing up in random posts. WTF?”)

Back to the funeral. Someone should break down and pound the ground with their fists repeatedly while screaming, “IT WAS A LEAGUE GAME. THERE WERE RULES.” Grief-stricken and all. But then look accusingly at the other two attendees. A long accusing stare.

Oh. Must tell you of still more Important News. I was just emailing with a “friend” — seriously??? — and he says I need to “document the Rebeccas of the world” for you few who seem to enjoy reading that sort of thing. The question I had posed, earlier in our fourteen-year-long correspondence, was, “Well what the fuck IS it that I write, exactly?”

I’m always asking people that. No one has an answer. Even the publishing-empire woman I’ve been emailing with, the one mentioned above? She isn’t helping me figure it out. Keeps asking me what I want to write. I think that is at the root of our contorted efforts at communication. That, and the all caps distracts us, but WHO ARE WE HURTING, NO ONE THAT’S WHO.

Me: [deep in existential quicksand] What is it I write? I honestly don’t know what I can write for you. For your readers.

Woman: DID I DROP THE BALL? OR DID YOU?

Me: I forget. HA! HA!

Woman: Were you giving me a list? Was I giving you one? A list? HA! HA!

Me: A list of what I write! HA!

Woman: Good talking to you, HAVE A FUCKING GOOD WEEK!

Me: You too! Same thing, NEXT FUCKING WEEK! WITH MORE CAPS!

Woman: YES! MORE FUCKING CAPS!

I’ve been asking everyone I run into to explain, if they can, WHAT is it that I write, exactly? How would you describe whatever this is that I write? If you had to put it into a single Pulitzer category, I mean.

Is there a non-fiction genre called “Faux Outrage”? For that matter, is there a category on Amazon for crappy cheap e-books full of whatever it is that I write? Because once we know the answer to that, then we will know my MILIEU. Please note that I have now clumsily worked in the word “milieu” and used that ampersand in one post.

So, to sum up. I write. There’s lots of confusion. And repetition or, as I like to call it, emphasis on oft-overlooked nuance. Here’s my internal dialogue as I struggle to think up something to write here, or anywhere:

Sheri 49: I know. Got it. I can do an … exposé of some sort. Investigative reporting. I really was a reporter, you know.
Sheri 50: You covered a chili cook-off.

Yes, it’s short like that. I save most of my words for email.