Times Square can't shine as bright as you…
Like most of you, I spend a good amount of time checking my visitor stats for my blog. Probably even more so on days when I don’t post anything. The reason being that I feel guilty about not posting.
I think things like, “Awww. Person from Bristol, Connecticut, you came all the way up here and I didn’t even post anything!”
It actually bothers me.
(Yes, it has already been clearly established that I am all sorts of nuts.)
And, while I have nothing to blog about today, I’ll hit you with a few quick thoughtlets. You know, just so your visit wasn’t a total waste.
My e-mail addiction may be worse than I previously thought.
Item the first: When I got up at 4 o’clock this morning for a drink, I checked AND REPLIED TO e-mail. I shit you not.
Second… item: As I was slowly waking up this morning, my mind was wandering and, as I completed a thought, I mentally hit a “send” button to finish the process.
(The thought? “I think it would be fun to have a pen pal, if my handwriting wasn’t completely illegible.)
Also this morning, I learned this on CNN Headline News:
“When cruising for men in a public washroom, it is important to keep your base wide. The person in the next stall should be able to see the edge of your foot. Then you slowly tap your foot to indicate interest.”
God help you if you are a fat dude listening to his iPod.
Late last night, I decided that I would try to write my next post for Burt Reynolds’ Mustache — you should be reading DAILY — which is due to be posted on Saturday. Instead of something even bordering on funny, it turned into either a short poem or the beginning of a bigger one. In either case, moody 16 year old lesbians everywhere would be jealous of it.
Needless to say, it won’t be showing up on The ‘Stache.
And, finally, a little exchange between The Monkey and I that might only be amusing to me:
Monkey: Peter, do you have “Hey There, Delilah?”
Peter: I have no idea. I have a lot of songs.
Monkey: You know it. Let me sing it for you.
Peter: It’s ok, I can do a sear–
Monkey sings the entire song.
Peter: Oh, I DO know that song.
Monkey: See?! I TOLD you. Can you put it on my CD, please?
Monkey: And “Ridin’ Dirty!”