Prizes!

Hugs and condolances to all the Pixies suffering this week from: not enough sleep, global warming, family members in the hospital, cats with dubious and stinkerino hobbies, evil girl scout leaders, insurance company rage, headaches, crying, 24/7 bambino schedules, sore nipples, obsessive handwashing, kinda sickness but not enough to take to the bed, too-expensive meds, too much busy-ness to whine, meds with too many side-effects, rain and cold forcast for vacation, misplaced sex drive, coffeeless days, PMS of the offspring variety, battles with schools, battles with banks, itchy spots, sinus infections, green tongues [yuck!], too much of a beloved one who cannot stop talking and demanding attention, oblivious spousal units, too much crying and whining, that fashionable "hell warmed over" look, the fucking cancer, work suckiness, family suckiness, the hideous beepbeepbeep of a smoke detector wishing for a new battery, clueless colleagues, departmental budgetary woes, laptops on last legs, drafty houses and doors that won't close all the way, personal PMS and zit explosions.

Esperanza wins the Remembering What It's All About Award.

Sympathies and a bag of green M&M's to A. Nonnie Mouse, who describes her missing libido as "a shriveled little raisin on the floor" and asks us to save it for her, should we run across it.

The coveted Elevated Risk of Mullet Award to Gary, who responded as follows to Liz's whine that she is not getting enough sleep and the polar ice caps are melting:

You mean if you get more sleep, the polar ice caps stop melting? Dammit,
your bedtime is now 8:30. Don't make me send Al Gore over there to read
Goodnight, Moon.

Gary meant it, too. Liz missed her bedtime, and Mr. Gore took time out of his busy schedule to tuck her in.

The Style Award is once again captured by the fabulous Yankee T, addressing the question of whether WW has outlived its usefulness to readers:

Somewhere, over the int'net,
There's a blog,
Where I can vent all my whining
And not be called a dog.

Somewheeeeeeeeeere,
over the int'net,
Skies are grey,
And we can all kvetch and belly-ache,
Every single "Wensday"

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the whines are far behind me
But til I do that, god knows when
I need a place to whine and then
Here's where you'll find me

Somewhere, over the int'net,
Whiners cry
Whiners cry over the int'net
Why then, oh why can't I?

Thank you all for playing this week! Tune in next week, when Madeleine will be your gracious host.

And thank you for the kind and positive comments in the post below, asking whether you think WW has outlived its usefulness. We plan to keep on with the weekly Brigadoon, rotating hosts. One or two hosts may step down due to the press of real life; some others have not been hosting lately, but plan to as things settle down for them in coming weeks and months.