Thanks to all seven of you who played along with my attempt to gain more readers via a dig button. The experiment failed miserably and we are all the lesser for it. So, yep, great, fantastic, etc.

Not for nothing, but how hard is it to click a button? Not very. Unless of course you have no thumbs, but I don't have any thumbs and I clicked that dig button at least four times yesterday, so that's no excuse. I hope all you privileged thumbed people are happy. Tell me, is it as great as I imagine, having thumbs? I bet you go to big fancy "thumbs only" parties and hobnob with the liberal thumbed elite. I bet you eat scallops wrapped in bacon and laugh and laugh and laugh. I love scallops wrapped in bacon, but can't eat it because it's a finger food. Oh, the irony!

The only thing that makes me feel better about this fiasco is holding out hope that the main reason you didn't bother to "dig" me was that you don't want to share me with the rest of the world. You like that it's just you and 13.72 other people who know I exist and you want to keep it that way. You want to keep me locked up in this ivory tower, far away from the rest of the world. I'm yours, all yours. Is that it? Well, whatever. I guess I'm flattered. But let me tell you: I ain't growing my hair out just to look pretty. One day my golden locks will be long enough for me to toss down to that handsome prince who comes around singing sea shanties every other Tuesday. I'm not a fan of sea shanties, but he's better than nothing, and soon he will climb up my hair and rescue me from this prison of torment. Then people from all over the world will learn of me and my ways and I will be famous and more awesome than ever and you will feel bad, like a little baby who lost its rattle or has been forced to smoke weed by its 17-year-old uncle. Or something.

I just wish my hair grew faster because these lice are driving me bonkers.

This post is dedicated to Gortex anything.