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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
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Hey, kiddies -- three quick blog-related notes for ya:
First and foremost, it's once again Blog It Forward day, as decreed by Buzz. For those of you unfamiliar with this little game of 'Spin the URL', it's a chance for each of us bloggy type of folks to give mad props and a shoutout to someone else's blog for a change. Hey, if you've got a blog of your own, you can play, too. It's like Marco Polo, or Jell-o wrestling -- the more, the messier merrier. The more, the merrier. Sorry about that.
Anyway, my choice this time around doesn't really need my help, but I'm gonna give it, anyway. I'm giving love to Shampoo Solo, if for no other reason than I'm just so damned pickle-thrilled to have her back, after a several-month hiatus.
(And no, I'm not exactly sure what 'pickle-thrilled' means. But I'm pretty sure it requires lubrication of some kind... maybe even with pickle juice! Look, let's just let this one go, all right? I was saying something important, here.)
Back to the 'poo. Go check her out -- she's as witty, funny, snarky, and outrageous as I said she was when I feared she had left us for good, and wrote this post, lamenting the loss. So you can imagine my joy when the cardboard finally came off her windows a few days ago, and she dusted off the walk and re-opened for business. I'm still all tingly over it. No, really. Just look. Goosebumps.
And it's not just because Shampoo was nice enough to interview me, either, when I asked her to. Nor is is simply because she's taught me and others so much. It's not even because she's got (reportedly, anyway) the best boobs in the world.
(Well, okay, really it is mainly that last thing. I mean, c'mon -- in the world? The whole frickin' world? That's pretty impressive, people.)
So go check out Shampoo Solo, and tell her I said 'hi'. (Or tell her she should show me her boobs. What are the chances she's gonna kill the messenger, right?) But especially tell her that it's good to have her back. It hasn't been the same without her.
Look, just go vote, okay? I'll consult my notes and eventually figure out what the hell I meant just now. Don't wait for me -- go vote now. Me Tarzan; you vote. Shoo.
If you happen to be the lucky 10,000th customer here at the blogge shoppe, and if you further have a blog of your own, and still further, if you have a wishlist on that blog... well, I'm going on record as offering to buy you something scrumptious off that list for you, just for stopping by and being the right person in the right place at the right time. Easy, eh?
Now, of course, that's a lot of 'furthers' up there, and it strikes me that it's fairly likely that the person chiming in with the big one-oh!-oh!-oh!-oh! (c'mon -- it's funny if you've ever seen Office Space; gimme some love here) might not meet all the requirements, as listed. So, I'm willing to bend a little. (I'm even willing to bend a lot, for the right incentive, but that's probably not something you need to know about. Let's stick to one 'prize' at a time, shall we?) So, if I can successfully identify the ten-thousandth caller, then I'll get in touch with him or her, and try to work something out. It'll be fun -- it's like Christmas in... um, well, in December, actually.
(Of all the rotten fucking luck -- the one time I decide to use that stupid saying, and it's fricking December. What are the odds?
And, so help me, if you chime in with 'About one in twelve', I'll pimp-slap your ass right back across the Internet. If you're gonna be a smartass around here, you're gonna have to be more creative than that, people.)
So, that's the scoopage. Go see 'poo, vote at WizBang!, and keep coming back for a shot at fabulous prizes. How's that for a 'Friday Three'?
(What? It's 'Friday Five'? Well, dammit, that's it -- I'm never using any of those cute little sayings again. Who makes this shit up, anyway?)
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Man Charlie, it's a shame to see what's happening over at the Wizbang. (Hmm...when you say it like that, it sounds kinda dirty, doesn't it?) Here's letting you know I'm voting for ya as much as I can.