Happy Day After Thanksgiving, America! And for the rest of the world, Happy Friday! Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving with family and lots of great food. Just think: you’ve got a few days of turkey leftovers to give you tons of energy to help you take part in Black Friday. Ah, yes, Black Friday…the busiest shopping day of the year. When retailers slash prices, and slash inventory, and step back as shoppers basically push and shove and punch their way through the mall to save 50% on a pocket flashlight for Uncle Pete. This is the America I live in, folks.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m probably going to the mall later today, just to take advantage of a Buy One, Get Two Free sale at one of the local retailers, and to make fun of shoppers acting like crazed fools. Making fun of people caving into their worst tendencies is one of America’s greatest spectator sports!
Anyway, I had a very nice Thanksgiving, thank you for asking.
This morning, I noticed this in My Stats:
That’s right: Out Where the Buses Don’t Run now has more than 1,000 followers. When I first started this blog, even just a mere hundred followers would have seemed like an amazing success. The fact that I’ve more than increased my followship (???) by 800% – I was at around 120 on the first of January of this year – really blows my mind. Thanks to everyone for choosing to make this blog part of your reading pleasure.
At the risk of sounding like I’m biting the hand that feeds me, I do realize that not all 1,000 followers do actively read my blog at once. I mean, let’s be honest, quite a few of my followers are counterfeit Louis Vuitton handbag sellers from Jakarta, or travel agents from India or Bangladesh organizing some rather dubious vacation packages. There’s the smattering of webcam hussies, and there’s the proprietors of some shady online businesses. At least if I needed to get some Viagra online, and fast, I now know where to go.
In other words, spammers. They pad my numbers. I’ll take ‘em. Call me a stat whore. Just like A-Rod. Or A-Roid. Oh, crap…I just outed myself as a blog juicer. “I did not take performance enhancing drugs for this blog. Ever!” Ehhh! Wrong!
But then there’s the lurkers, the readers of this blog from all corners of the globe, those who do read, and perhaps “like” my blog, but are maybe a bit shy about commenting. No, please, comment! I don’t bite! I’d love to talk with you! That’s why I run this blog, to meet people from all walks of life, with similar and diverse interests. So if you’re a single mom from rural Kansas, or a history student from Hong Kong, and you like what you’re reading here, let me know!
And to all of you who’ve actively and continually read my blog over the course of 18 whirlwind months, my deepest and most heartfelt thanks for stopping by and making Out Where the Buses Don’t Run one of the blogs you choose to read. Knowing there are millions of blogs for you to choose from and read, the fact that you read mine keeps me humble, and keeps this blog going. So, again, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I feel like I should reward you for your loyalty. I’ll think of something. Maybe I’ll post a brief excerpt of my current work-in-progress here very soon. Or some not-so-flattering photos of me. What say you: how should I repay your loyalty?
Speaking of spam, one of the many benefits of blogging through WordPress is Akismet. What is Akismet, you say? Well, it’s a spam-filtering service that protects your blog site from anonymous spam commenters, peddling everything from discount designer clothing and shoes to Russian mail order brides. I don’t want their wares gumming up my blog comments section.
Thanks to Akismet, Out Where the Buses Don’t Run has been protected now from almost 29,000 spam messages. Not a single spam message has been populated into any of the Comments sections of any of the blogs I’ve posted here. Thank you, Akismet, for protecting me from spamalicious badness.
Still, I like to review my Spam folder from time to time. Akismet may once in a while mark someone’s comment as “spam” when it shouldn’t be; it hasn’t happened often, but it does happen every blue moon or so. But the ones Akismet does block are, to be honest, freaking hilarious.
So I thought I’d take a moment to go through some of my favorites in my queue right now and “reply” back to those comments. Like I’ve done once before.
Dear Helen Marshall Designs,
As opposed to “facts not being truthful?” What part of “facts” do you not understand? And who are these 60 men and women you’re putting back to operate again? Operate on what? What hinky shit are you up to? Who are you, Blackwater? Donald Rumsfeld? Stop reading my blog, now.
You sound a lot like many a woman that’s given me the brush-off throughout the years. Nice to see you’re still the same stuck-up snotty hag that recoils in horror every time a
drooling idiot handsome man like me offers to buy you a drink.
Which one is it? Is Chris Kemoeatu an effective person, or a horrible person? Or both? And why should I care? Fuck Chris Kemoeatu.
Your advice sucks. Who are you, Suze Orman?
Dear The North Face Gotham Jacket,
Thank you for the kind words. Regretably, I don’t do requests. If I ceded to your request, the next thing you know, I’d start writing articles on Justin Bieber, and shenanigans with spam.
I do have a request for you: Please slap your parents in the mouth. Hard. For giving you such a terrible name. “North Face Gotham Jacket?” You must have gotten the shit beaten out of you in school. Hopefully your parents paid for karate lessons. Or psychotherapy. Either way, your parents are the worst parents this side of Kanye and Kim, for giving you such a lousy name. Fuckers.
What was that advice I gave you? Oh, yes…DON’T HAVE SEX WITH TRANNY HOOKERS. BAREBACK.
Look, this blog is a judgment-free zone. I couldn’t care less if you’re a Scientologist or you enjoy sex with transsexual hookers or vote Republican. It’s your right, I’m all about free will, and who am I to tell you otherwise? But, Keith, if you’re going to indulge in risky behavior – and, let’s face it, having sex with chicks with dicks isn’t your run of the mill hump-and-run activity – then it’s best to practice safe sex. Little Keith thanks you. The tranny with the fake 38Ds and the very real 9″ boner thanks you. And Mrs. Keith thanks you as well.
PS: Thank you for having a real name.