Sometimes, you just blog yourself silly. You're feelin' it--you know what I mean ... you're feeling creative, happy, on a roll, and you've got it goin' on. The words are flowing, and it just feels good to express yourself. And I think to myself, "What a Wonderful World."
And then you check your comments.
What's that you hear? The proverbial chirping of the crickets. Except for one. He's yawning.
Other times, you're drier than the dry socket of a wisdom tooth (a-hem). Ironically, that's when your public of 3 faithfuls blossoms to a burgeoning 6, and you've got yourself a regular cheerblock.
Who can figure.
But that's OK, because tonight I got nothin' but some randomness:
My dog poops about every other day instead of every day. I think this is a dogdom anomaly. But her stomach is supposedly the size of half a mandarin orange. Maybe that has something to do with it. Sometimes I think she's saving it up for just the right moment. For me.
I don't like it when companies hi-jack songs from my youth to sell their wares. Right now, Honda is using "Hold On Tight To Your Dreams" by ELO, from 1981, my high school graduation year. Honda is playing on my middle aged nostalgia to get me to buy their car. Not gonna do it, and you just make me want to hear the whole song. That's it.
I just realized today that I created my first Excel spreadsheet when I was about six. I used data from the JC Penney's Christmas catalog to create detailed lists, yes, that's plural because I revised it a couple of times a day, at least, of toys I wanted for Christmas. Fields: Page number, name of toy, catalog number, price. Plus I circled it just to back up my lists.
I choose the worst passwords for my Internet workings. First of all, they all have something to do with my dog, and that gets really confusing. And I make them all too long and try to type too fast, and I have to re-type it, and that makes me cranky. I always have to try two or three times on Blogger just to get to my own dashboard.
I just realized today that in addition to weight, age, wrinkles, career and clothing, that Site Meter has provided me yet another area in which to feel inadequate.
On a lighter note, Marie Osmond was awesome on Dancing with the Stars tonight. It was a 1940's two-step to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, one of my favorite songs anyway. She nailed it and stayed conscious and upright. She is 48. She rocks.
Oprah is having 100 Osmonds on her show this Friday. I'll be watching, but I won't be screaming "We love you, Donny!" like I did when I was 10 at the Indiana State Fair in the grandstand. I'll just be signing it from my recliner.