What the What?

So, I plop my ass down here in front of ye olde blog and, what do I find? My layout has fixed itself? Or maybe all that shit I did under the HTML editor finally worked.

Or maybe my blog is JUST THAT HAPPY that the Vikings throttled the Cowboys yesterday AND we're done looking at Marmalard Phillip Rivers for another nine months. Jesus, looking at that guy's face is like staring at a pig's asshole.

I wish I had something more to tell you. My blog was lost fucked, and now it's found fixed. Well, at least for me. And Pearl, apparently, but that might be because Pearl is made from stuff like Awesome and Fabulous and Upper Midwestern Hardiness.

Okay, so here, I'll share a little tidbitlet of a story from this past weekend. Because I am a dutiful father--and in no way am I trying to make up for laying on the couch watching football and ignoring my children all weekend--I took my daughter for another turn through the neighborhood trying to sell Girl Scout Cookies.

By the way, do you want some? I'll mail them to you. The commercials during the time outs and such on the football games this weekend told me that I can mail them for one flat rate. Email me if you want any.

So, while I'm out walking up and down the streets, alleyways and drives of my neighbors, I kept thinking of Patrick and Spongebob trying to sell chocolate to the denizens of Bikini Bottom. When anyone would come to the door and my daughter would say "Hello, I'm selling Girl Scout Cookies", it was all I could do not to scream "WE GOT 'EM NOW!!!"

But, here's the thing: We were out for about two hours early Saturday afternoon. In that span of time, we walked to about forty, maybe fifty different houses. Of those forty, maybe fifty different residences, we had five people answer their doors. Five. Five fucking people took the time to get up off their fat asses, ignore the Carolina game, and see what the young, blond girl and her dashingly handsome father wanted.

Of those five, we sold to one guy. Score! 20% success rate!

Personally, I blame Liberty Baptist Church for this. If it wasn't for those cockknockers going around, peddling their "Jesus" to people, and asking them, "If you die today, do you know where you are going?", I'm sure more folks would be willing to open the door and see what's up.

Speaking of which...*undoes belt*...those assholes are about due for another emotional scarring visit to my front porch.

Oh, hey, look: The Vikings just scored another touchdown against the Cowboys. Oh hey, look, Keith Brooking is still a whiny bitch. Boo fucking hoo, Cocksuckers.

UPDATE: Fucking thing broke again. I guess I shouldn't have run an anti-spyware scan on my computer this morning.

Bunch of savages on this internet...