Of Course I Love You, Baby. You're My Blog.

This blog has been sitting neglected for the past week like a red-headed stepchild. And I'm sorry, baby. Of course I still love you. Even though I was stupid enough to create you in Blogger two years ago instead of Wordpress. Even though I use you to annoy people, find homes for roaches and tell far too many dead prostitute jokes. You're my one and only, and I love your little blue, green and orange ass. No I don't think you're a baboon. You're putting words in my mouth now, baby. Shhhhhh.

No you did NOT see me at the movies last week with Squidoo. That is so over. What do I have to do to prove it to you? Add another bad radio program to the sidebar? How about another guestmap, would you like that? More news about my leaky roof? I've got it - another piece about how rainy it is this summer? A picture of my cat? How about another joke about how I'm going to die alone beside a trunk of DVD porn? I haven't used that one in a while. What's it going to take?

And... SCENE. This week PITF turns two years old. To help you fathom how unlikely it is for a blog to ever turn two years old, that's 14 in dog years, - and about 672 in blog years. I'd be giving myself a pat on the back, if I weren't already giving myself a pat on the back. In honor of this miraculous occasion, I will be updating the "classics" list on the left hand side for the first time in forever to encourage a little nostalgia. Which is a little like inducing vomit, only less potentially damaging to the esophagus.