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It doesn't take a webbot to figure out that I don't post too very often. What the webbot can't figure out is why I don't post too very often. It's my blog and even I can't answer that. It probably has something to do with my own over-editing and a reluctance to put something, anything, out here that isn't what I consider worthy of bothering other people with.
Years ago, eons before blogs, back when I was borrowing her Brother word processor to type up some of my stuff at her Apartment in the Shadow of the Golden Fried Chicken, Gert described this reluctance to me, as she saw it, like this:
"You're so worried about leaving any trace of proof for posterity that every single thing that ever came out of you wasn't Joe Perfect and it's a shame. You need to get over that."
As is usually the case when it comes to figuring me out, she was right. And that was YEARS ago. And as is usually the case when it comes to working my own wrinkles out, I haven't gotten much better.
But here's a good example of why I finally should just knock it off and stop being so damn me about it. I checked my sitemeter earlier today and found some very interesting stats. Now, I'm a stat rat at heart, so I love this shit, and what I found, I guess, surprised me; though I'm not sure what I was expecting to find.
By leaps and bounds, by an overwelming margin, by, like, a 20 to 1 ratio, the most popular post of all time here on Some Things is....this silly thing.
A little ditty I threw up here without much thought, and more to be able to crow about the victory that was fixing that damn shower. Gert and I had been vice-grip dependent in the shower for far too long at that point for me to not shout its success from the blogtops.
Now, I realize that people are not going back to this post because of the prose. It probably pops up when you search 'shower stems', 'shower handles', 'shower stem socket wrench' and/or 'hardware stores', who knows? And if the people of the interwebnets come looking for step-by-step, Bob Villa-style help, I know they leave disappointed, but, maybe not. Nah, probably they do.
So, true believers, the lesson today (for me, here) is to "...(d)on't think Meat, just throw."
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight...
God Bless Gert and all the things she has done and sacrificed for This Year of Betterment and Future Planning.
Anyone believing that this has been a vacation year wherein she has eschewed all previous responsibilities and connections is so far off the mark, Pluto must still be a planet in their universe.
I had the experience of enlightenment tonight of exactly the toll exacted by what Gert has to deal with on a weekly basis, and it isn't pretty. And it certainly isn't easy.
Being a fly on this rough and tumble wall tonight was, as I said, enlightening. Not in the sense that I didn't believe or give credit for all that Gert had previously explained to me as the goings on at The War Bar. And believe me kids, it is-a-war-bar.
Everyone in this small, aptly described, batshitcrazy town, has a metropolitan sized amount of baggage that they bring through the buzzer-protected door each night. And every bit of that baggage goes through the same HomeTown Security shitass detector each time they hunker down at this warring bar; and they come packin'-each and every one of them. Each with their own specific and age-worn reasons for their hair triggers. And each has a reason to make sure everyone know 'why' they carry their own specific torch, if the assembled doesn't already know. Or worse, thinks they know.
Tonight I looked at the people she rightfully loves and I looked at the people that she rightfully loathes and not one of them, in my estimation, are worth one ounce of the heartache she has endured in This Year of Betterment and Future Planning-but the point is, is that she hasn't suffered any of these fools for their own sake-she has embraced each and every one of them as The Necessary Means To The Ultimate End. Nothing More, Nothing Less.
Sadly though, they have invaded that wide-open heart of hers of which we have all been beneficiaries. And their topical fleecing of her giving nature has, and continues to, strip her reserves of basic human tolerances and energies.
And the ones who presume to think they know her, I mean KNOW her, like WE know her, are the most aggregious offenders of them all.
After what I saw tonight, God Bless Gert Further, and To Hell With Them. All of them.
Posted via BlackBerry by AT&T
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
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