Mirror, Mirror

I’m gonna need a 12-step program soon.  I have now begun posting this blog on four separate hosting sites.

My intentions were good.  I wanted to post it somewhere for those (few) readers who are MySpace-allergic.  So I wandered over to WordPress and had a look-see.  Nothing fancy, no hoops through which to jump, no “Bambi” or “Sexxxi” trollops to circumnavigate.  Okay, I’ll build here.  I’ll be extremely lazy about it and simply cut-and-paste from this blog, no muss no fuss, done-ski.

Well no, because a few weeks later I’m reading some posts over at ForumGarden and notice that the site provides blog hosting as well.  Nice bunch of folks at FG, why not paste the blog here too?  Cickety-click.  Done.  I actually even have a comment over there already.  From a total stranger, yet.

Last week I was reading another blog and discovered that, if I already have a GMail account I too can have a blog on Blogger! I do have a GMail account, and I can’t tell you why I because I never use it.  I just needed to fill in fields and select this and click that, just to see the final result, I suppose.  It’s a bit like pulling the handle on the slot machine.  This post doth illustrate what happens when I get bored and sit down to the keyboard, dothent it?  You should see my Favorites menu.  I should post it.  Nah, I really should not post it.  Anyway.  Now I have a blog on Blogger as well, but I am not going to post one on Diaryland.  I.  Am.  NOT.

Now that I’ve confessed this, I expect that one site or another will depth-charge the blog due to some TOS thingy I didn’t (and never) bother to read.  That would be okay, of course, unless they form some kind of Blog Bloc and thus cast me from the Interweb entirely.  (I just had a shudder.  No Interweb??  That actually fills me with a sense of dread.  This is sad.   I’ve become my own version of the disaffected slack-tard son I never had.)

Let’s move on.  So far this weekend I’ve done nothing really constructive at all except to spritz a little lube on the bike and tighten a spoke here and there.  That took all of thirty minutes.  The rest of the time has been spent reading or watching television, or trying to wade through Halo (see slack-tard comment above).  That game is a bastard, by the way; game developers are sadists.

One highlight, of course, was having Isabella and her mum to dinner.  Isabella brought along this bubble wand thing that, when deployed, looks like some kind of Klingon weapon if Klingon weapons were plastic and colored purple and yellow.  The thing is?  This gadget makes wicked awesome bubbles!  I kid you not, I made a Rob-sized bubble with that thing and it lasted something like 15 seconds.  Rob: “Dude! Look at that!”  Isabella: “Can I have it back now please?”.

I’m looking forward to getting back on the bike and getting back to the gym.  My new schedule rocks, or will rock now that I’ve kicked whatever rampant protozoa was leading my damned life last week.  Where is that gods-forsaken new-and-improved immune system we ex-smokers allegedly enjoy?  Bah!

What I’m reading:  Starship Troopers, by Robert A. Heinlein (Only the second time I’ve read it; the first was when I was 14.  I remember my young sensibilities being appalled by the seemingly harsh society in which the story is set.  What a difference 34 years makes!  Chapter VIII discusses “civic virtue”; touchy-feely folk should probably pass it by.)

Last Film SeenNotes on a Scandal  (Judy Dench and Cate Blanchett in a tawdry love/hate smack-down.  Loved it.)

I love you (well, I mean I love that you know me),

-Rob

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