Sunday, August 17, 2008

Can I ask you some questions, Dear Bloggerdom?

Are we all alone in here? Are blogs "blase"? Are we out-of-date? Is it because no one likes to read anymore? Is my blog of no importance to anyone but to myself? Why is YouTube so addictive?

I can see the reasons behind starting something of the type, video-messaging of sorts; where instead of family and friends emailing pictures, they just set up a video and Voila! Only problem : Everybody that has a computer can possibly find and watch, for minutes and minutes of amusement, your friends and/or family acting either really boring or highly- retarded (usually the latter, and not in a disabled way, I mean just incredibly stupid.)

Either way, unless the posting is set up to block responses from EVERYONE other than said friends and family, there is also the lovely possibility of having comments from not-very-nice-at-all people displayed for everyone to see, like macabre captions under a very under-budgeted B Movie. No thank you.

Yes, I know what you might say ,"But Caro, there are really great vids on there that may never get a chance to be viewed publicly if not for sites that allow anyone to post." Great! No prob! Who am I to argue with "Tunak,Tunak Tune" , and the one with the incredibly flexy boy kicking himself in the head? Hilarious! All I am trying to get across is the idea of someone in another state, or (heavens) in the same town, seeing me try to cheer up a buddy while acting a fool on the Internet does not appeal to me.

And knowing my luck, I would probably not be funny until I do something to lose my balance (as usual), fall over myself, and land either smack on my face or flat on my bottom. Totally not on cue.
Wait, didn't I just see that on there yesterday?

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Yeah we took that picture.

Yes, it's a real picture we took. Isn't it pretty? Don't let her tell you she took it. She might have seen it, said "ooh" and "aah" at it, but WE took the picture. We love digital cameras. Aah.

Oh good she's not looking...

We have some things to confess. First, Caro is a strange person. Sure she's sweet, bubbly sometimes- when she isn't feeling down and irritable- but strange. Even so, she is ours and we must rectify some things before they get completely out of hand. In this case, our hands.
At times, we are so busy we haven't a moment to rest, let alone think about it (despite our lack of a cerebellum). With getting her up, brushing teeth, combing hair, making coffee, getting her dressed, getting jammed into doors (more than once in a while), typing up reports, feeding her, getting chewed on in meetings (will our nails EVER grow out again?)... (sigh- if we could), we never truly get a moment of rest.
When we are not busy with her idea of work, she wanders around her house sometimes, muttering to herself and thinking aloud. She waves us around, as if we are at fault in all things lost, when in fact we only purposely lose a few things on occasion to give her reason to wring us and wonder if she is losing her mind.
We must confess, as her Wandering fingers, that we feel kinda bad, cause we think she is, and it's kinda our fault. We have had our reasons to remain quiet before (the most obvious of course, being that we haven't a mouth to speak with), but maybe it's time we started writing for ourselves.
She likes to think herself a writer sometimes. Pfft. She wouldn't get anywhere without us! But do we even get a half-heartfelt praise for our part? No. Not one bit. Sure we are washed, she has the decency to wash us (else we should reach up and smack her) but we are ignored if she is tired, or worn out, and we haven't had a decent manicure in ages. We have had to wash dishes, scrub the tub, sweep the floors, cook the food, and take out the garbage...Did we mention our nails?
We would just like a bit of recognition. That's all. A bit of the soft touch of slightly-rose scented lotion rubbed on our poor, dry knuckles would be a nice start. Or , ooh ooh, perhaps one of those Lovely Hand-Held Hand Massagers... that would be downright gracious. Perhaps she'll even take us to the parlor and ... well, we shall just have to wait and see and not get our hopes up too high. We can only really hope that she sees this post and understands it is a cry, nay, plea that she start giving us some attention... and not the final push (by our own hands nonetheless!) into insanity. Unless, as we suspect, she is already there, in which case, we are the only sane ones left,...(puppet-like hand sigh).