Several people have asked me (okay, only me talking to myself) if I should host a web page. My first thoughts are where do I invite one? Would the web page like to come to my house? Would it have time to spend an evening with me? I imagine that when I would invite the web page into my home, I’d take off its coat and put it on the bed, have it sit down, get it a drink and have some sparkling conversation capped with a rousing game of Catch Phrase™ and a light dessert. We’d then wind things down and I’d hand it the recipe for the cheesy ranch dip my wife had set out as the snacking medium for the evening. As the web page would leave, Carrie and I would wave through the glass door until it would turn the corner. With a sigh of satisfaction and a buzz of good cheer, I would think that I hosted that web page fairly well.
I would awkwardly usher in the web page and tell it “Just put your stuff anywhere. . .No, not there! There!” and then leave it to return to my television viewing schedule for the evening. The web page would shyly follow me into the room and stand. On the second commercial in the break, I’d say “You can sit down, you know.” Then quickly and nimbly it would sit down stiffly and stare at the television. Maybe the web page would try to initialize a conversation. “Say, those Battle Bots are something else, eh?” I would then generate a “mmph” sound from somewhere around my head. All immediate hope for the web page would then vanish. As the show would end, the web page would look over at me for the next “phase” of our evening only to be answered by a continuous cycle of channel surfing. “A bloopers show was suppose to be on . . . let’s see here . . .” The phone would ring and I would pick up and it would be an old college buddy and we’d talk for a long time. Most of the conversation would come from the other end so that the web page would have not a hint about what was being discussed. After I’d hang up near the end of a “Hee-haw” reunion show, I’d remember something vaguely about someone talking and look around. I’d see no one, shrug my shoulders, and fall asleep during “JAG.” That is being a bad host of a web page.
So here, I've come across this. Yes. A place to post ...things. Things that have come across my fuzzy head and would like to share.
And I give you a ...
100% Clean Guarantee
That's right. No cussin' here! Nosireebob! And nothing inapppro- inappropi- rude either. You can come in and relax and I'll probably have something posted once a week to make you smile. That is, attempt to make you smile - on the inside at least.
And if you want a cheesy snack dip, you can email a request. Meanwhile, I'll try to be figuring out these dohicky web things.
Eric of Sillybear