For those of you who love Gus, which of course would be all of you (RIGHT?), I have a new humor post up at Her Nashville.
And just as a general order of business, if any of you have time to kill, and a boss who doesn't sneak up behind you and hiss WHATCHA WORKIN' ON every time he catches you on the Internet, it would be awesome if you could log in and maybe leave a comment some time? You know, when you're not busy.
This way the editor of HER magazine will think that I deliver VALUE,see?
Because right now, I'm pretty confident that Margie Newman and my mother are the only people who read my HER blog. Actually, I don't even know if my mother reads it. She probably doesn't.
(MOM: Do you read my HER blog? Circle YES or NO.)
This is why I love Typepad Stats.
Stats tell me that I am not alone out here.
Stats tell me how many people are visiting Blabbermouse and where they're visiting from. And what they're wearing.
I'm kidding, mom. They don't tell me what you're wearing. (Nice sweater. Is that cashmere?)
But with my HER column and the HER blog, I have no clue if people are reading it. And, frankly, IT FILLS ME WITH A DEEP AND PERVASIVE FEELING OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD.
But you know me, always sugar coating everything.
Writing stat-less is like watching a never-ending rerun of the Brady Bunch episode where Bobby and Cindy get lost in the Grand Canyon. So on the one hand, I'm all, it's fine, someone will ride down on a pack mule and rescue them eventually. And on the other hand, I am calling out into the great wide open canyon and can hear NOTHING BUT THE ECHO OF MY OWN VOICE.
Bahhhhhbeeeeeee (bee bee bee bee) .... Cinnnnndeeeeeeee .... (dee dee dee dee dee).
Editor's Note: Do not go back and reread that analogy to see if it makes sense. It does not.
And just as a general order of business, if any of you have time to kill, and a boss who doesn't sneak up behind you and hiss WHATCHA WORKIN' ON every time he catches you on the Internet, it would be awesome if you could log in and maybe leave a comment some time? You know, when you're not busy.
This way the editor of HER magazine will think that I deliver VALUE,see?
Because right now, I'm pretty confident that Margie Newman and my mother are the only people who read my HER blog. Actually, I don't even know if my mother reads it. She probably doesn't.
(MOM: Do you read my HER blog? Circle YES or NO.)
This is why I love Typepad Stats.
Stats tell me that I am not alone out here.
Stats tell me how many people are visiting Blabbermouse and where they're visiting from. And what they're wearing.
I'm kidding, mom. They don't tell me what you're wearing. (Nice sweater. Is that cashmere?)
But with my HER column and the HER blog, I have no clue if people are reading it. And, frankly, IT FILLS ME WITH A DEEP AND PERVASIVE FEELING OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD.
But you know me, always sugar coating everything.
Writing stat-less is like watching a never-ending rerun of the Brady Bunch episode where Bobby and Cindy get lost in the Grand Canyon. So on the one hand, I'm all, it's fine, someone will ride down on a pack mule and rescue them eventually. And on the other hand, I am calling out into the great wide open canyon and can hear NOTHING BUT THE ECHO OF MY OWN VOICE.
Bahhhhhbeeeeeee (bee bee bee bee) .... Cinnnnndeeeeeeee .... (dee dee dee dee dee).
Editor's Note: Do not go back and reread that analogy to see if it makes sense. It does not.
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