We all must try to learn the blogging way from the great Dustbury. I voted for you. Good luck!

Well, since I didn't, that makes one so far.

First of all, the "best of" thing is stupid.

If I were going to vote, which I'm not, I would definitely vote for Dwayne the Canoe Guy, as opposed to the man who accused someone near and dear to me of being a stalker, something some of us don't find particularly funny. Men claiming that some woman is stalking them because she posts on their thing is rather pathetic and falls under the category of wishful thinking most of the time. I do appreciate Mr. Canoe man NOT calling me a stalker over on his thing because I posted something. A big breakthrough. I'd also like to point out how refreshing it is not to have some man tell me
that I rub people the wrong way, mostly because
that's too bad but I don't particularly care, and second of all, I have no intention of singing Rubber Ducky to anyone here.
I have sung Rubber Ducky before, but I don't have any intention of telling you who I sung it to, or where we were. Bathtime was fun tho, and I recommend it, with candles and something nice to drink.

One of the reasons I wouldn't vote for you is you always seem a little smug. That sort of turns me off, not that you'd care, but I thought you might find it amusing on some level. Also, I'm sort of sick and tired of hearing about your sewer line problems. I hate the word blogosphere and even though some guy on the "tv" said the blogosphere was "magical", I haven't really gotten that "magical" thing going on yet. Also, I'm still waiting for an answer about gorgeous male librarians not wearing miniskirts, and can only hope you'll do the right thing and answer the question. Who knows? If I had gotten one earlier,
I may have voted for you, but I doubt it.

Also, everyone is so sickeningly sweet in the okie blogosphere that it gets a little sickening. Everybody seems so "palsy
walsy" that it's just a little too cliquey here, unless
of course you like cliques, but that's hard to believe since it's sort of apparent how people especially in Oklahoma feel about anything French,
which I guess takes away from our rampant patriotism. Knowing of course just how many people would want to leave France and live here, reassures me of France. And nobody needs to remind me that we have a French contingent here in OKC who like La Baguette and bread. I got it.

I do like the bird though.

Well, that's how I avoid the sickeningly-sweet stuff: by being smug.

It's not working.

I did like your use of the colon, though I'm not
convinced a semi-colon would have been fine too.

By the way. Thanks for the reply. It beats checking back about the male librarians in miniskirts thing(I'm a proud contributor to your hits parade, your welcome) that I'm assuming you're never going to answer.

Also, thanks for not posting something nasty, like,
why are you posting something in the afternoon, don't you have a life? I was bracing myself for that one.

Let me be specific. I posted something in the afternoon because I felt like it and, plus, my internet service provider hasn't told me yet to only post between 12am and 3am in the morning unlike a previous provider which will rename nameless.

And no, they weren't the ones who told me that things don't work when it's too sunny.

And, no, they weren't the ones who told me that
I should feel happy to live in a country with freedom, which is why I was receiving disgusting filth in my email, something I was only too happy to learn might stop at some point after Sen. Charles Shumer was quoted as saying that his daughter was getting some bad stuff in her email and that just wasn't going to cut the mustard! Yes, that was a happy day, knowing that someone was coming to the rescue. Of course, we're not all daughter of senators, but it's nice to know that someone counts, only it's a little discouraging to note once again it's not me or anyone else who wants to buy a teacup on eBay.
But, we move forward just like we're supposed to,
knowing that if we have faith long enough, someone, somewhere will be in charge of something.
It took me an awfully long time to realize that Congress seems to always be playing that game that used to be played at birthday parties called Hot Potato, something that I was never good at, and
I still remember the feeling after playing that hideous game called Musical Chairs, and caught on pretty quickly that I needed to be the one in charge of lifting the needle off the record instead of trying to push myself onto a chair with some girl named Cindy who wouldn't be happy until she annihilated anyone who tried to sit in the chair she had chosen. She usually also turned out to be the one who kept screaming that she wanted an
icing rose off the birthday cake. Yes, we remember her well.

It's nice to finally have discovered that
life is really one big child's birthday party,
especially the part where you've figured out why
some parents don't pick their kids up on time.