faux-ward

So here we are.

In the comments of my last post, a very nice lady that I know named Elise Allen (at www.eliseallen.com) tagged me in a sort of blogger game/honor. According to the link she supplied in her comment, she was nominated for a Versatile Blogger Award. According to versatilebloggeraward.wordpress.com, the rules of this nomination are thus:

• If you are “nominated,” you’ve been awarded the Versatile Blogger Award. (Alas, this rule does not apply to the Tony Awards.)
• You thank the person who nominated you by linking to their blog.
• You select and publish links to 15 blogs that you feel are worthy of being nominated for - and thereby winning - the VBA.
• You notify those blogs of this honor and the responsibilities that it entails.
• You share 7 things about yourself.

And lo, this very web...blah...log was one of the blogs that Elise nominated.

I’m calling it a faux-ward. It’s a word I just coined. It can be used and pronounced in two ways: 

1. when someone forwards  - or faux-wards - you something that is sort of legitimate, very earnestly kindhearted, but still rather baseless, and then asks you to forward - or faux-ward - it on to other people. 

1. an award that’s not really an award. Example: My pal Henry has a  World’s Best Dad trophy that is his most prized faux-ward.  

I do not mean to sound snarky with my word coinage, but in this particular situation, there is some truth to it. Apparently the whole thing is just a way that some random person decided to share worthy blogs with other bloggers, which is indeed a genuinely noble cause, but the nature of it all does not necessarily ensure an automatic stamp of high quality. It’s essentially a made-up seal of approval sent by chain mail. 

And because of this (as well as the fact that I don’t follow 15 or more blogs), I am refraining from faux-warding this to other blogs that I think are worthy of this faux-ward. 

Also, I’ve already shared way more than 7 things about myself in this little canon of posts. So instead, to be a real rebel, I am going to share 8 things about cookies:

1. Cookies are good.
2. Cookies should be made with real, salted butter and tons of vanilla, no matter what the flavor is. Got that? Never make a cookie without a little salt and extra vanilla. You’re welcome.
3. Cookies, according to the more recent episodes of Sesame Street, are a “sometimes” food. Interestingly enough, the cookies that Cookie Monster eats on the show are real, but they are entirely free of any and all oils so as not to damage his fur. Considering their complete lack of fat, I’d say that those cookies are a “not at any time ever” food. 
4. I hated selling Girl Scout Cookies. 
5. I loved eating Girl Scout Cookies. Yes, Samoas were my favorites, but a cash-strapped young me could get the most bang for her buck by buying a box or two of the shortbread Trefoils (with their much higher net weight and content) and a can of chocolate frosting. Sadly, there was no Girl Scout Badge for Creative Eating.
6. Have you ever seen those old cookbooks and magazines that spell cookie as cooky? What made Society suddenly realize they were spelling it wrong all those years? 
7. There is nothing sadder than biting into a subpar cookie. (Or a subpar cupcake. Or a subpar off-brand creme egg.) 
8. One of the first chain mail letters I ever got (back when they were actual physical letters) contained the infamous $250 cookie recipe... but I never attempted to make them, and despite the recipe’s pervasiveness over the decades, I have never known anyone who’s ever tried them. What? You’ve never heard this totally fabricated cookie tale? There’s a fun history of it over at www.snopes.com/business/consumer/cookie.asp.

All that said, I do thank Elise for thinking of me and this little land of mine, and I’ll even put a second link to her here: www.eliseallen.com.

And to those of you who think that I am being disrespectful of this blogger honor, just remember that if I really wanted to be a horrible ingrate, I could have gotten Sacheen Littlefeather to write this “acceptance speech” on my behalf. But Brando I ain’t.

(Brando I Ain’t is just one of my rejected autobiography titles.) 

Yes indeed. Welcome to me.