I used to have a friend who created a version of the NOFX song A Perfect Government that replaced the lyric “cat” in the refrain “how did the cat get so fat” with her older sister’s name. I now think of this often as I have gone from:
In eight short years.
I should really exercise more and drink less good beer, but that is difficult to do. Poverty is good for your waistline; a life of leisure, affluence and frivolity is not.
I am just bitching in order to write something.
I am a reluctant blogger at best. A better way to frame my engagement with blogging is to say that I love the idea and hate the practice. As I write nothing of any consequence and, more frequently, nothing at all, the only comments I receive are from spambots.
Hotlinked Robot (sorry owner)
Some people may dislike spambots and delete their messages. I, on the other hand, immediately approve of spam messages for several reasons:
- It looks as if someone is reading and responding to my blog
- They are often complimentary, feeding into my ego for two seconds or so
- They remind me I have a blog when I get an e-mail that “someone has responded to my blog”
- They are generated to be somewhat related to the posting, unlike most blog comments that are comprised of thinly veiled self-references.
I should probably delete them as they are only creating a distinctive link for Google or any search provider to rank them more highly when someone searches for a lucrative word such as “mesothelioma” that just happened to show up in a posting to which they are now linked. That being said, if spambots didn’t post, who would?
Oh look… I have updated WordPress. It looks no different than the last version… yet they say it is in some ways (I will check later, no really).
Fucking blog. My unrealistic expectations stunt you far more than your insignificance suggests.
I went to get a haircut today while I had the oil changed in my vehicle. It was also inspected to discern the unsettling rattle and squeak emanating from its undercarriage that had begun early last week.
- An exhaust heat shield had become partially unbolted due to rusting (it is an older vehicle, after all).
- Cut the shit off (this was their genius idea)
I was told that the risk from this removal is that if I happen to do some task that super-heats my exhaust such as racing people in my car (as oft occurs, BTW), and I happen to park on top of dry grass, the heat from the exhaust may ignite the grass on fire. This has created a new driving strategy:
- Don’t race people or allow my exhaust to become super-heated
- If I do allow my exhaust to become super-heated, do not park over combustible material
My hair was cut while waiting for my car to be fixed… here is a picture of the fine results (post nap, unbrushed and generally disheveled)
Unbrushed Hair… Although it is Cut, originally uploaded by pressuretobear.
By the way, the red blotch on my forehead is due to my lack of grace leading to a rugburn on my head. I figure I should capture this at least once in order to remind myself at times when I have an over-inflated sense of value and self-worth that I am, at the core, a dumbass.
This picture provides me with three key takeaways (other than I should not have taken it):
- You should look at your backdrop prior to taking a picture and posting it online.
- I need to tidy my bathroom
- I should crop pictures of myself so that my grotesque body shape is either obscured or absent.
It is sad that I have a tag of “auto repair” that I have used numerous times on this site.
I have neglected my blog for far too long. It is a sad state of affairs. By the way. I am lacking any thoughts that are interesting to publish at this point in time, so this is spamming my own blog.