Blogaholics Anonymous, Anyone?

My name is Rima and I am a blogaholic. So addicted have I become in the past week since discovering this blissful parallel universe of smart, funny women who also dangle precariously on the edges of insanity, that I've let the kids run around in diapers/underwear and Kool-Aid stained T-shirts, watch PBS ad nauseum, and eat Fruit Loops, for God's sake, so I can get my blog fix. How could I have spent almost four long years of lonely, sittin' on the sidelines stay-at-home motherhood before finding this place?

Go ahead and laugh, you blogerati (I looked that term up here) with your RSS feeds (WTF is that?), your chi-chi title bars, your FAQs, your blogrolls to infinity. It's true that I have been living in a cave for the past, um . . . when did this blogging craze start, anyway? I just can't get enough, boomeranging from Suburban Bliss to Breed 'Em And Weep to Dooce as if my life depended on it, which, in a way, it does.

But I fear that this could get out of hand, ladies, (gents?) I mean, the laundry, it is piling up, the dishes, they're a-festering, the kids, they're a mopin' and a-skulkin'. Plus, my tushie's not getting any smaller parked on this here couch morning, noon, and night. Suggestions, anyone?