I hate yard work. I really don’t care what my yard looks like. I like having one so the dogs can run around, but they don’t care if it’s grass or dirt. My home owners association (aka Yard Nazis) seem to care so I cut the grass just enough not to get sued.
Cutting the grass is annoying. To help pass the time, I pretend that my yard is a fancy major league ball park. Cutting the grass at a stadium seems to have more of a purpose. But then after I’m finished, no one comes to the stadium (yard) and that seems more of a bummer than just cutting the grass in the first place.
Now I know how the Washington Nationals feel.
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Does the elevator know that when I get on and press the button for my floor a hundred times quickly that I’m in a hurry and want the doors to close immediately or does the elevator think that a hundred are all getting on in rapid succession and all want to go to the same place and it’d better keep the doors open so they can all get in safely.
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I’ve been reviewing and tinkering with a few stats and analysis programs to see when or if people are actually reading this blog and I found out… you are!
That’s pretty cool.
Here are some interesting factoids:
22 people subscribe to this site via Facebook’s Network Blog tool thing.
15 people subscribe to receive e-mail notifications about new postings.
Despite Russian spam and ads for Canadian drugs… I have no readers in either country.
My domestic readership looks like this (based on traffic this week):
41% from Maryland (Rockville, Princess Anne)
30% from Virginia (Bristow, Arlington, Herndon, Winchester, Charlottesville)
6% from Iowa (West Des Moines)
6% from Utah (Salt Lake City – ISP: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints… that was a surprise)
5% from North Carolina (Wendell, Winston Salem)
3% from Washington (Seattle)
3% from California (Mountain View)
2% from Arizona (Tucson)
2% from South Carolina (Beaufort)
2% from Oregon (Portland)
Thank each and every one of you for your readership. I do this because I enjoy doing so. One day it would be nice if I could ever make a career out of it, but right now it’s just for fun. As always, if you enjoy reading the nonsense I make up here, please tell your friends about the site. If you hate it, please tell your enemies. If you’ve got a web site and feel so moved, a link would be awesome. If you want me to link to your site in return, I can do that.
But most of all, keep reading.
Also, next week… I’m awarding a prize to a dedicated reader. Is it you? Maybe. Odds are probably not… but maybe. What is the prize? A free car? A year’s supply of Valvoline? A coupon for buy-one-get-one-free dental fillings? An old biscuit? All of the above in a wicker basket wrapped in foil? Who knows?
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I’ve spent the vast majority of my life stuck in traffic. I-66 in Northern Virginia is a soul sucking wasteland that makes “The Road Warrior” look like a day at Disney World. Most of the time on that road is spent fretting about my tardiness or coming up with new, creative ways to curse the people obstructing traffic. Every now and then though, I see something that almost (almost) makes getting stuck in traffic worth while. Today I saw the most outlandish thing I’ve ever seen. Keep in mind, I’ve seen some pretty bizarre stuff out there. I’ve seen the Oscar Mayer hot dog bus. I’ve seen a truck made of giant Hershey’s kisses. One time I even saw a truck towing a massive Eddie Murphy head down the street. (Seriously, it was like a two story replica of Eddie Murphy’s head. I found out later that you could even crawl around in it.) I’ve seen a car v. car water gun fight (no, I wasn’t involved). I’ve seen a band tour bus throw a cooler out the window. None of that prepared me for what I saw this morning.
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I thought this would be common sense, but as soon as I hear myself utter the term “common sense” I instantly realize that common really means moron. I’m not an elitist. I don’t think I’m better than everyone else. I do think I’m better than some people. Go to www.peopleofwalmart.com and you’ll know what I mean. My goal in life… well it’s more of a mantra than a goal (what’s a mantra? I don’t know, what’s a mantra with you!)… is to not negatively impact anyone else, to not get in the way of their ability to do whatever they want. I expect the same in return.
So here’s the big guffuffel; Do Not Poot in the Elevator.
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