Yipeeee is Monday. Monday is Potluck. Potluck is Monday. Therefore, Potluck is Yipeeee. Let’s all dance around in my circular reasoning.
*attention*
*attention*
This is a blog list alert. This is not a test. This is an actual alert. If you are on my blog list, please stand by for important information:
Janet posts her blog at midnight. She would like to be on my blog list when she visits between 7-9 am CST. I am requesting that all but 24 of you refrain from posting between the hours of midnight and 9 am CST so I can accommodate Janet’s schedule. Thank you.
*this concludes the blog list alert*
I received a visitor from the search “over the toilet table”. Another visitor was Nirvana bound from the search “stick figure drawings for the bathroom by donna”. I have no idea who Donna is, but I like her style. And then I begin to wonder if the first visitor might be looking for Donna…
What is up with Holly’s coccyx?
Alrighty, can I just admit to being embarrassed by carrying around a donut/toilet seat thingy? It is conspicuous. I have to sit on it or I am in tears. So I have decided to design a better mouse trap, or a better donut. My first prototype is being crafted at a foam manufacturer now. I am sure this is not the last you will be hearing from me about this endeavor. Now I need to go search to see if www.paininthebutt.com is already taken…
And now let’s see who is this week’s Peep of the Week!
The winning comment was in response to this portion of the fierce camping story:
The cowbell was never properly explained as a device for protecting young women. It works like this. Cow bells, of course, attract herds of cattle. When they are summoned, they serve to distract natural predators who are unlikely to pass up on all the tasty beef for thin prey in sleeping bags. And the cattle work for young men as well. As they approach the sleeping beauties, evil intent in mind, they will be so distracted by the prospect of cow tipping on a steep hill that they’ll be no threat to the young women. Cow bells are largely underrated as a defensive device.
Thanks to Ron Davison for this cowbell insight. You are Nirvana’s Peep of the Week.
Everybody is wondering…
*shout it together*
What is in Holly’s fruit bowl?
A faux beaver and a faux snake.*
*not properly put away after Friday’s picture extravaganza.
(Whew. That was WAY better than nothing.)
HOLLY’S BLOG TALK**
**Holly’s blog talk will conclude with a photo of her child(ren) which will be a signal that Holly’s blog talk is over. This is because Holly has come under some criticism from readers who do not blog that Holly might be getting a bit too technical *insert Holly-who-can’t-figure-out-her-fancy-phone’s laughter here* and sometimes slant her writing toward readers who blog. Holly is hypersensitive to criticism this issue and hopes that if you agree with this feedback that you will skip ahead to the photo. Holly will not be taking any complaints from people who were warned, yet read on…
Here at Holly’s blog talk I am all about
I love feeling like an expert.
AND then StumbleUpon sent me 361 visitors. HELLO 361? Ya 361, that 361 is 361 like 361 major 361 around 361 here 361.
If you would like to join the StumbleUpon alter call…please just head over to my page and be my StumbleFriend.
We can StumbleSkip through the StumbleFields of StumbleDaisys with StumbleCrowns of StumbleDandelions upon our StumbleHeads.
**and this concludes Holly’s blog talk**
So hypothetically speaking, if you were hypothetically grandparents who were hypothetically traveling in hypothetical Switzerland and decided to get hypothetical gifts for your hypothetical 3 grandsons and these were your hypothetical choices…
Hypothetically, the polka beaver (yes, ironically a beaver) might be more annoying then a cowbell. More annoying then a cowbell? You decide:
To get that out of your head you can meditate on this cowbell…
Happy, happy Monday!
I’ve never read anything about a cowbell on any blog before, and here you have two different mentions of cowbells. That’s mad skilz!
I sort of forgot about stumbleupon. I first clicked on it when I suddenly got two thousand hits in one day. I did a post called “child labor,” and someone thumbed up it, or thumbed it up or whatever, and then it got listed with political topics for the day. I probably got about three to four thousand hits from that one.
And of course they all became regular readers.
YOU CAN’T MAKE ME WATCH YOUR BEAVER. No, you can’t. I don’t like watching beavers, so I’m not watching.
And you can’t make me.
Stumble??? Um, it that like plurk, twitter and the like?
So, does that mean I’d be plurking, twittering, blogging, buzzing, and twittering??? I’m so tired . . .
help, i’ve stumbled and i can’t get up…
Is that beaver holding cigarettes?
Those are some lovely beavers. Where can *I* get one? *hee*…
Stumbleupon sounds rather tempting . . .
but not as tempting as that beaver. I think giving somebody that thing is like people who give toddlers noise-making devices in order to make the parents deranged. I should note I am one of those people.
I’m not sure that the beaver gift is any worse than my pants. Although it IS more annoying, so you win.
I have that cowbell. Someone must have gone to Switzerland when I wasn’t looking.
That cowbell is impressive. Kind of looks like a German decorative kinky bondage instrument. Not that I would know anything about bondage or kinky. Or German kinky.