Old pic, but everyone could use a little goose of Moose, right? He sends hugs, and asks how your folks are doin’.

Denver is cold. Damn cold. So cold, I thought I was back in Kansas yesterday!

(art by nataliedee.com)

So I’ve been out of the blogging world for over a year.  Now I have no idea what’s going on.  What are all these new-fangled services such as Stumbleupon and Digg?  Damn, last time I was around I couldn’t even understand RSS feeds and now you want me to learn all this?  It’s like studying for the SAT’s!

When I had Rant-O-Rama going, at the peak of its popularity the blog was getting almost 500 unique hits a day.  Even The Drunken Lagomorph had over 100 unique hits a day.  I really didn’t try to publicize either blog much; I might have joined a few blog rings (remember those?) or whatever.  But readers weren’t hard to get.

And I’m certainly not in this for the readers.  Focusing on others is when you start censoring yourself, and then your blog becomes uninteresting to read.  But I made some good blog friends with Beermary.com, Rantorama.com and drunkbunny.org.  Fun times man, fun times.  It would be cool to have that back again.

Am I trying to recapture a golden age of blogging that is gone?

Or am I just not knowledgable enough on how to use all of these new Open ID/Technorati/WhatTheHellDoesThisDo services?

COOL PEOPLE, FIND ME AGAIN PLEASE!

Yes, it’s a new tradition! Random Crap From My Hard Drive Monday!

I’m a disturbed woman. But I’m not afraid to show it.

Exhibit A:

This is a pic of my beloved dog Harley. She is very much alive in this picture, just rollin’ in the grass. She died about 9 months after the pic was taken. I made the changes to this pic and posted it to threaten someone on a message board into doing the right thing regarding an animal (apparently; I don’t remember).

Exhibit B:

Well he is!

Exhibit C:

It’s not like I bid on it or anything!

Exhibit 9:

If I wasn’t getting cremated, this would be my dream casket.

Exhibit Delta:

And to cap it off, Moose as a puppy.

OK, I had too much fun with this. If you do a RCFMHD Monday (or any day you want), leave a comment!

Wirthy over at Drunk and Crippled has a great post re-capping the SAG Awards. It was written especially for people like me: the ones who don’t give a rats ass about the awards, but would never pass up a good chance to make fun of celebrities.

I can’t stomach awards shows. I know many people love them and that’s cool, but I don’t understand the appeal. I haven’t watched one since 2000 when I tuned in especially to see Robin Williams perform the song Blame Canada from the South Park movie (click for video).

I can’t even watch an awards show that is hosted by sexy, sexy Jon Stewart. To see stars falling all over themselves, patting each other on the back for doing a job they get paid very well to do… ugh, it just reeks of conceit.

Here’s an example (from Carpetbagger). Josh Brolin, upon accepting his award, said: “I’m taking my time, man. This is my fricking moment,” never mind that he was accepting an ensemble award.

Josh Brolin, newly-won ensemble SAG award in hand, assaults some unimportant actress from said ensemble that had the nerve to try and steal his fricking moment.

So Wirthy, I admire you for sitting through a whole evening of the SAG Awards, armed with nothing but a single-serving bottle of champagne, so that you could bring us a funny post. You took one for the team!

(I thought EVERY bottle of champagne was single-serve.)

I called my mom right upon leaving work, knowing that listening to her talk would be a good way to kill some commute time.

Forty-five minutes later, she’s still going strong. Having not said even one sentence the entire time, I interject: “Well, I’ve just pulled into the driveway…” She continues to talk as if I hadn’t just given my graceful call exit segue.

So, I unpack my car. She’s still talking. So I let Moose out for a walk. He pees twice, mom is still talking. Then Moose takes a huge dump. I’m holding the cell phone in one hand and trying to pick up the poop using a plastic bag with the other hand. At last - an excuse to get off the phone!

Me: Mom, I have to go now.

Mom: So then I sold her the Mary Kay Raisinberry lipstick, which looks good on everyone! And she said…

Me: Mom, I gotta let you go.

Mom: She is going to come back next weekend and buy some moisturizer. Which would bring my open house sales to around $400…

Me: (Thinking: If I cuss, it will startle her into listening to me.) Mom, I’ve got to go! I’ve got a steaming pile of shit in my hand.

Mom: *pause* Oh. Well, your father and I are going to have chicken for dinner.

Me: What?? No! I’m not talking about dinner! Obviously, I’m not going to have shit for dinner!

Mom: Why aren’t you going to have any dinner?

Me: What? I am! I’m just not going to have shit for dinner.

Mom: You said that. Why aren’t you going to have any dinner?

Me: (catching on) - I’m going to have dinner eventually. But right now, I have a steaming pile of Moose’s shit in a bag in my hand, and I have to get off the phone. I told you this, and for some unknown reason you started talking about what you were having for dinner.

Mom: I thought you were talking about what you were having for dinner. That’s why I was talking about what your father and I are having for dinner.

Me: Well of course I am not having shit for dinner!

Mom: This again. Why aren’t you going to eat?

Eventually I got off the phone, but to this day I don’t know how.

If I spent half the time writing content for this blog, that I do tinkering with the layout, I just might get some visitors.

But how much do you love the lime header? Mitch Hedberg fans will recognize the “buoyancy of citrus” line. We miss you Mitch! 

“(Remarking about his drink while onstage) Look at all the limes in this god-damn thing! This fuckin’ thing is tropical! Look at the limes, how they float. That’s good news man. Next time I’m on a boat and it capsizes, I’ll reach for a lime… I’ll be water skiing without a life preserver and people’ll say ‘What the hell?’ and I’ll pull out a lime…and a lemon too. I’m saved by the buoyancy of citrus.” - M. Hedberg

So if you walked out to your car and saw this post-it note on your car’s mirror, would it cause you stress?

Please call me about your car! 303.296.0809 [signed] MB

Well for a lady named Kristi, who did get this note on her car in a darkened parking garage, she thought someone had run into her car. (That would cause ME stress, I’ll tell you that!)
Here’s what she said on her blog:

So I paused thinking, “did someone hit me and leave me a note? Is my car THAT dirty that I didn’t even notice?” So, I got out. Did a little inspection. And nothin’. No dents, no dings, no damage. Why would someone leave a post-it note if nothing bad happened? Oh geez, is my car about to blow up? Is someone trying to warn me of something? I start freaking out and thoughts of every intense thriller movie with car blow-up-scenes started going through my head. I call James. Then, I call the number.

I get put on hold for 4 minutes! I hang up. I call again. After 4 billion rings, some dude answers. I say, “hey, are you the person who left a post-it note on my car?”. The dufus on the other end basically tells me that one of his guys probably did. I’m like, “who are you?”. He tells me he is from some auto glass repair place and they would like to fix my cracked windshield. WTF!? Since when did people start soliciting via post-it note?

Smart Glass, you truly do SUCK! How DARE you pull shit like this?

So let’s fight back, eh?

From Marketing Punk; found via Jack’s blog.