Tuesday, February 15, 2005
 
War Eagle!
Congratulations are in order to the person who found this blog by entering the Yahoo! search words: my right foot ran over by minvan about year and after ran over my foot change color. I'm not going to lie to you people, I have no fucking idea what the person searching could have possibly been after. Are they saying that happened to them or they are indulging some kind of foot-injury fetish? I'm a little afraid to guess. All I know is that the Bucket was #9 on the search results list. I've never been more proud.

Today's actual post begins now.

I work hard for you people. I really do. Each and every day (minus Saturdays, the one day per week I set aside for forced, awkward family together time... but I'm thinking of you, Reader, the whole time I'm with them, I swear) I sit here in front of my keyboard, completely naked, crack open an ice-cold Tab (careful not to spill) and set out to entertain the nearly dozen of you who read this every day.

What you usually get is a lengthy exegesis on some random topic of my choosing, overblown and tortured for every ounce of personal entertainment I can wring out of it in the faint, faded hope that somehow, someway I might bright just a glimmer of hope and joy to the lives of people procrastinating in front of their own computers when they should be doing something else. No, I don't judge you for reading this. Although I will say it speaks volumes, people. It speaks volumes.

As for me, what do I have to show for it? Yes that's right, a handful of pretend blog friends who don't even know my real name. Don't misunderstand, you don't know my name because I don't want you to know my name, mostly because I can't afford the extra security. Motion detectors aren't free.

According to my Sitemeter, after seven months of blogging, I'm up to 7,805 visits to my site. Believe me, I'm truly grateful for each and every visit, for every second spent ingesting the chaotic festering swill that fills the Bucket each and every day. I know all of you are out there, investing the time, thinking to yourself "this is going to get good soon, I know it".

There are two cruel truths I feel obligated to share with you. First, like any book by John Grisham or fantasy hack Terry Brooks, this is never going to "get good". I know, you've put in the hours and you want your payoff, but sadly, this blog thus far has represented me working at my optimum level of competence. Sorry. Believe me, I know how you feel. I read all four of the Scions of Shannarra mini-series of novels. Yeesh.

Second, I've come to the realization that for a measly 7,805 visits, I'm working way way way too freakin' hard. As fulfilling as it can be to mildly amuse a select few bored internet users waiting for their donkey porn or stolen Bay City Rollers MP3s to download (you know who you are... as does the FBI, by the way), this is no way to become a blog-star.

I'm obviously doing something horribly horribly wrong. I mean, look over at Sugar, Mr. Poon?. That guy writes like five lines a day and he's got nearly 100 times the web-traffic this piece of crap draws. That's what I call efficiency.

Screw you people and your joy, I want to be famous.

I could stand to cut my time involvement on this thing down by a factor of ten as well.

Keeping that in mind, I've decided that I'm going to try a one-day experiment. I'm calling it the Democratic Presidential Candidate Strategy for Blog Success. Just like John Kerry or Al Gore, I'm going to pander shamelessly to every imaginable demographic. And we all know how well it turned out for those two.

If you're new here, drawn by some of the search-words you find below, please disregard all the above nonsense and start readiiinnnnnnng...

RIGHT NOW!

Hello! Welcome to my blog.

I only have a few minutes to write between classes here at the college I go to. Man, class sure is boring. I do like to drink a lot and have casual sexual encounters though boy, let me tell you. All my professors are terrible and awful and ugly and stupid except my Psychology 104 prof who is, like, totally hot.

I'm exhausted right now though. Yesterday was a long day. My significant other and I attended the joint GLBT Respect Our Rights/Hands Off Our Guns Second Amendment Rally on the lawn in front of the administration building yesterday. The demonstrations were very peaceable, believe it or not, and even though I can say I strongly disagreed with the side that I disagreed with, we had an open and frank exchange of ideas that led to greater mutual understanding.

Chris and Pat were there and they brought Pat's mom's famous tuna salad to the picnic. Pat shared the recipe.

2 cans of tuna
1/4 cup of mayonnaise
2 hard-boiled eggs, diced
4 cups Manischewitz wine
1 teaspon tarragon

I think it's the tarragon that makes it so good.

At the afterparty, these two girls were dancing together and then totally started making out and taking each others' clothes off. I heard pictures could be found at www.mythofthehotlesbians.com. Some people were offended I think and they said they would prefer www.peoplehavingsexinthemissionaryposition.com and still others suggested I try www.nopornwhatsoever.com. I think you can totally guess which one I chose. The other two are of no interest to me whatsoever.

We went back to the apartment later and watched our absolute favorite TV show ever, Lost. Or was it Alias? Or maybe it was X-Files, Star Trek, 24, Buffy, FarScape or Hannity and Colmes. I forget. Anyway, could you believe it when that guy did that thing? It totally blew us away.

Then we turned the TV off and did some knitting. As we did, we kept Jesus in mind the whole time.

We tried to get some sleep, but then the new baby kept us up. Man, it's hard to be parents in this day and age. I tell you.

And um... uh... picture of a puppy:



And one of a scantily clad famous person:



Enjoy, America! I will sit back and watch the Sitemeter smoke.


This post on the Narcissus Scale: 8.8


Pops

Comments:
Awwww, puppy! (Cat pictures get bigger hits, but no where near Naked Barbies, btw.)

It's spelled tarrAgon.

And your comment about Sitemeter smoking only leads me to believe that you are behind the untimely demise of the piece o'crap formerly known as the clothes dryer. I KNEW you were not to be trusted.
 
Oh, and one more thing re: the new Blogger comments:

Why can't we choose to have ANY identity? Have the folk at Blogger given any consideration to the fact that I just want to be Jennifer Garner (pre-Affleck) for a day? Inconsiderate bastards, I KNEW they were not to be trusted.
 
The puppy picture gets my vote. And just how do you propse to become famous...anonymously? If this is what stay-at-home parenthood does to you, I don't want any part of it.
 
HFB: What? It's spelled just like that with the extra capital A right in the middle of it? That doesn't seem right to me.

Also: I spelled "Manischewitz" wrong too.

No comment about the other thing.

Jess: Puppies are not for eating. Don't you know? Liberals eat BABIES, not puppies. Sicko.

Jennifer Garner: I totally agree, Blogger sucks.

Steph: It's not real fame, it's BLOG fame. Two totally totally different thing. One, for instance, comes with no money or groupies.

PusBoy: You have to earn search-engine hits like that, by the way. Congratulations.

Also, just noticed the link to me over there at your lovely site. Appreciate it.
 
I had something to say, and it took so long to get to the comments page I forgot. Oh yes. Well, I have been blogging for about 2 years now and my current site has only about 2000 visits (it's only been up since like, August..). So you're doing better then me. And I'm a coward because? (From yesterday...)
 
K: You want me to remember something I said from yesterday?

Er... um... lemme see... uh... oh yeah! I think it was because you refused to comment on my highly controversial choice of topic.

You regret asking now, don't you? Come on, admit it...
 
Pops -- This might work, but you know you won't be satisfied with Blogger fame. Next you'll want real fame. Call me when you achieve that...
 
Pops, I don't know why my woman wants to leave you comments. I haven't been bloated in months.
 
War Eagle (yech), but I am impressed that you, Californian from another world, would know the ongoing rivalry of two SEC college football teams in a state where there is nothing to fucking do. Very nice, Pops, very nice.
 
No, not upset for asking. It's all good. It's the trading of insults that brings me back to this blog every day. Hrm. Or not. I don't know.
 
No, he's got the knitting. It's right after watching TV and right before thinking about Jesus. What a way to attract people.
 
Wholly mother of Affleck spawn, but that's a BIG freakin' blog title.
 
Jen: So what you're saying is I can't call you before that? I thought we had a nice time. Wow, one and done. That's cold.

Ben: The frequency with which you get bloated interests me less than Gigli. Hack.

SJ: Don't forget, I once lived in a trailer. I'm fluent in redneck.

K: You shut your face!

Yoli: I'm trying to appeal to the masses, man. I have to speak their lingo.

MPH: Man, I knew you only pretended to read my blog! You've cleft my heart in twain, sir.

K (again): Aw, I knew you'd get my back. You're my favoritest commenter.

HFB: Heh, I guess not everyone is running at 1280x1024 resolution. It looks nice and appropriate on my screen. Does it at least fit on one line?

I am quite enamoured with the new title font, though. It's very pirate-y. Har.
 
Gee, one would think I'm just sitting around here, refreshing every 10 seconds to see if you've replied to my comment, eh? I am doing no such thing. I'm sitting here, refreshing every 10 seconds to see if Ms. Garner is commenting again. Anyhoo, the blog title fits nicely on my screen ... it's just very larrrrrge. And it seems to be changing from black to green ... like one larrrrrrge bruise.
 
Arrrr.
 
Well HFB, it's possible that my new masthead is merely strikin' her colors, matey. It's also possible that it might be defective as I found it lyin' in Davey Jones' Lockerrr.

Avast!

Har.
 
Whatever. I'm thinking she's not coming back here. Actually, I'm having my doubts that that was even her. I'm going to take my meds now, and go to bed.
 
I though I was so cool when I got a search hit for "sex photo" even though my blog has nothing of the sort. But you are the master of unintended search traffic.
 
HFB: Again, you can't keep calling 44 ounces of Wild Turkey and a fistful of quaaludes "meds".

MPH: Sorry, I couldn't stop laughing at "I'll be fucked". Poor lonely giant...

Bill: I don't publish the really really horrible search results that bring people to this blog. I really need to start watching what I say.
 
Ha! And now being that I am your "favoritest" commenter, you actually came to my blog. Wow. I feel special.
 
Oh yeah, and what new font? It looks just like it used to. I can't see it...
 
K: Sorry about that. When I was messing with the HTML I learned that not everyone would have that font on file, so I made the backup visible font the same as the old one.

And I've been to your blog many many many times, I just never comment. It's not because I'm not intrigued, I just have nothing of import... OK, interest to add usually.
 
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