Limb Stepping

This is scary but I’m doing it anyway. If you’ll notice I’ve got a new widget on the side of my blog that lists my most commented on blog posts in history. You’ll then notice that the top one has 107 comments. Back then there were more people I knew blogging. Back then there were more people commenting. These days comments are few and far between.

What’s that? What’s that I hear? Is that a challenge?

You’re on. You’re on like applesauce.

Lets see if we can break the odds, lets see if we can break 107. Is that possible? I realize I’m asking a lot. But the challenge has been made. I realize I’m asking us all to sacrifice. So lets make it easy, here are some suggestions, some ways that I think we can make it happen and also a few rules:

  • Just give a shout out- Tell me you’re there if you’ve never commented before
  • One idea is to follow suit of a status update from facebook and start a story by writing one line that the next commenter then adds to
  • Don’t comment 107 times in a row please, that would cheapen it a little bit
  • Share the love and invite a friend or two to help me reach this goal
  • Say whatever you want and just have fun with it…I know I will.

Oh, and one last thing…if I don’t get my comments I will be humiliated in front of all my friends.

E is for Encouragment

After reading my wifes response to Jen’s blog where Jess said why she sucked I found myself wanting to respond by telling everybody what she’s good at. I don’t like when my wife tries to make people think that she sucks at many things ’cause the truth is that she is actually one of the most talented people I know. Seriously, she is a woman who is in high demand because she is so incredibly talented.
Anywhoo, I thought I’d give everyone a chance now to leave comments doing one of three things: 1.) tell us all what it is that you do well (imagine Martin Short in Three Amigos). OR 2.) Tell us what someone else you know (maybe someone whose commented on our precious blogs, maybe not) is really good at.

Here’s the only rule: No lying. Seriously, I’ll know it’s a lie if someone says that Tabitha grows great Fuji apples. Lets keep it real here alright?

On Being Sick

Last night I spewed old food like six or seven times. Today I’ve been lucky enough to feel a little better, though the fever has persisted.
I hate being sick. It’s pretty miserable. Movies are fun to watch, but when you’re sick they’re just not nearly as good I think.
Anyway…
…So today, while I was laying on the couch ready to spew my guts out I tried to toughen up and ask my wife if she’d like to play a game with me. I wasn’t feeling all the way better, but I thought I’d give it a chance.
We played Yahtzee. It is our game of choice. We have our own rules on how to play. Some of them go as follows:
– You can’t scratch anything. Instead you are allowed to take “boobs”. (instead of scratching a category or putting a zero, instead you put two zeros, thus creating “boobs”). For example: Common, common just give me a three…Crap, no three. I guess I’ll just have to take boobs on my ones.
– To decide who goes first you each roll all the dice. You then determine whose first by a poker count. You know, whoever rolled the better poker hand wins and gets to go first.
– The first task of the game is to give yourself a name on your score card. Names suck as “scooter McSquirts” or “Tiny Tim Wears Rubber Boots” or “Wiggles” or what have you.

Anyway, we played a game or three and here are some of the things that she did to me during these three games:
– Got three yahtzees in one game!
– Rolled a yahtzee on a single roll (thats like statistically impossible or something)
– Laughed and giggled at me (the sick boy) ’cause I’ve gotten so chubby I now have armpit fat! I didn’t even know that armpit fat existed, but there it is on my body. I’m ashamed. Ashamed and over weight. I’m the fattest skinny guy I know and it’s pathetic.

In conclusion, I would hope that the rest of you will treat your spouses with more respect when they’re sick. You know, letting them win Yahtzee, not making fun of their fat pits, not rolling statistically impossible rolls of dice…you know, all the usual things.

…though, on second thought, I guess my wife does take good care of me asside from that short list. She makes me soup and gets me movies and rubs my shoulders and stuff. It’s just hard to think of anything but her pit fat comments right now. It hurts you know?