Pleasant Funny Stuff

I love this blog for it's therapeutic benefits and ability to make me feel somewhat productive, despite the fact that it only garners a readership of about 5 (love you mom!).  It's sort of like talking to yourself - it makes your ideas more exciting when you hear them out loud.  So most of the things I write here, I write regardless of whether or not anyone reads them.  But I recently discovered a folder of "unmoderated" comments that I never knew existed.  And boy, have I been missing out!  There is a wealth of insightful and supportive comments by a tremendously loyal follower who goes only by "Anonymous" that I've been missing out on...

On my blog where I presented Lainey's first book, my mystery fan left this wise little gem: "You cannot judge a tree by its bark."  I'm not exactly sure how it pertains to a random assortment of preschool drawings, to be honest.  And also, I'm pretty sure you can, in fact, judge a tree by it's bark - it's species, it's age, if a bear has peed on it recently.  Lots of info.

On another post, there was this: "each time i uѕeԁ tо rеаd smaller poѕts which aѕ well сlear theіr mοtіve, and that is also hapрening with this ρost which I am reading at this place."  And if anyone knows about clarity and motives, it would be THIS person!

This compliment was found on my post about Owen and the strange underwear: "fantastic post, very informative. I wonder why the opposite experts of this sector do not understand this."  I'm trying to figure out just who, exactly, would be considered the opposite experts of the sector - people who advocate for clean underwear with a very specific location of origin?

"Every weekend i used to visit this web site, for the reason that i wish for enjoyment, since this this site conations in fact pleasant funny stuff too."  Pleasant funny stuff, get your pleasant funny stuff here!  All that you wish for enjoyment!

"What i do not realize is in truth how you are not actually much more well-favored than you may be now. You are very intelligent. You already know thus considerably with regards to this topic, produced me in my view believe it from a lot of various angles.Its like men and women don't seem to be fascinated unless it is one thing to do with Girl gaga! Your personal stuffs excellent. At all times deal with it up!"  I was really warming up to this person, with their obvious good taste in finding me well-favored and intelligent, but then they started talking about my girl gaga and my personal stuffs and it got. really. awkward.  I guess I will try to deal with it up, though.

"A role-playing game (RPG) is a game by which players assume the roles of characters in a fictional setting. This is mainly because you may be playing in a level, doing very well, convinced you will be conquering the video game, you can all at once obtain a combination of Tetris pieces that will not work well collectively. The gameplay other than the ghost piece is basic with two modes in the marathon and 40 lines timed for single player. If the blocks reach the top of the screen, then the game will be over."  Um.....what?  I saw the word Tetris and, being a child of the 80s, thought perhaps if I read it again I might be able to comprehend.  Turns out...still no.

"These are genuinely enormous ideas in about blogging. You have touched some pleasant factors here. Any way keep up wrinting."  First my personal stuffs and now I'm touching pleasant factors?  I sure hope this isn't the gamer nerd from the last comment, because I saw a Lifetime movie like that once and it was *super* creepy.  Also, for the record, the genuinely enormous idea in blogging that they were referring to was my photo of Owen's string of drool.  I guess baby spit has the power to change the internet.

I'm glad that Anonymous enjoys my "wrinting", but unfortunately I have no desire to follow the link to their websites about pet insurance and miracle pills, so I have declined to publish their helpful comments.  Plus I feel like I need to be more diligent about safeguarding my girl gaga from here on out.  But everyone else is welcome to continue enjoying my pleasant funny stuff - maybe you have some enormous ideas of your own to share that I wish for enjoyment?

Blame the Groundhog

I was already over winter way back in November, before Mother Nature went all "Day After Tomorrow" on us...now, I have a snow drift that looks like the Swiss Alps in my backyard and my kids have used up all of their days off school on account of it being -245 degrees outside.  And we aren't even halfway through yet...  Sometimes, when I hear the weather forecast, I feel like I'm Bill Murray and I keep waking up to the same thing over and over and over again.  "Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don't forget your booties because it's COOOLD out there..."

Ahh, but today IS Groundhog Day!  Maybe that squirrel-looking pillow pet will bring us some relief, right?
Sigh.  Groundhog Day.  Of all of the holidays - and I'm using the term "holiday" VERY loosely here - Groundhog Day has to be one of the most pointless.  International Waffle Day?  That just makes sense.  But I don't generally rely on rodents to predict anything except the likelyhood that the crackers in my pantry have been eaten.  Come on, the thing is scared of it's own shadow, how smart can he possibly be?  But regardless, today, in front of a crowd of around 20,000 people who have absolutely nothing else going on in their lives, "Punxsutawney Phil, the most famous (and, I would argue, the only...) groundhog in history, emerged from his burrow early Sunday morning and with the help of his handlers declared that he saw his shadow."  Yes, you read that right - he declared he saw his shadow.  If you imagined that declaration being spoken in a chipmunk voice, you aren't alone.  But how, exactly, do we know if he saw it?  Did they teach him a secret squeal or growl or whatever the heck noise groundhogs make?  Does he push a "YES" or "NO" button?  He probably just came out, saw the giant piles of snow and the swirling polar vortex of coldness and said "To hell with this, I'm going back to bed!"  That's exactly what I did this morning, except my audience consisted of a 4 year old who had his pants on backwards.  And unlike P Phil, I have to work more than one day per year so I had to get up regardless of the winter-that-never-ends.  I read somewhere that in the 128 years that they have been holding this groundhog ceremony, only 17 times has the critter ever not seen his shadow.  That's like...some really small percentage, which only proves that the groundhog doesn't really know the secret squeal after all and just wants to be left alone for another 364 days.  Obviously, the fame has gone to his head.

So, six more weeks it is.  We will continue driving our cars on an ice skating rink and trying to find our mailboxes while Phil sits in his nice warm luxury burrow with toasted chestnuts and lettuce.  Yes, such a great holiday indeed...