Six Months of Shit, Leavened by Flattery

Noticed that today is the six-month anniversary of your editor's foray into the web as more than a commenter. Talk about late to the party! We read about this web log thingie in the newspaper several (ten?) years ago, & it occurred to us it might be an outlet of some sort. But we had no devil box until "inheriting" one from our most recent ex-girlfriend's late brother, in October 2003 (four yrs. ago). No high speed access until March 2006. And it still took over a yr. to start crankin' it out. Indeed, had we not submitted a comment to the Huffington Post (or "HuffPo," as we in the in-crowd say) that they noticed & put in their "Eat The Press" section, & had we not sent the link to a few friends, one of whom replied: "Now that you have been cited, I assume you will find the ego rush irresistible. Boufblog cannot be far in the future," we might still just be leaving comments. Thanks for the suggestion, Brick! Still took about two & a half months to start. Note very first item. Note different typeface (font, to you goofy young people). Note early use of the first person singular. Note not having mastered the art of spending hours looking for an image at least vaguely connected to the subject. (Not that it would've been so effing hard to find a shot of Sally Field.) That's about it.

Above: An exercise in self-flattery.

Well, two other things of notice. Three different comments today, two of them from people we know but haven't seen for a while, one from someone we may have met 30ish yrs. ago, all three complimenting us on the product here. Well, fair enough, they're all looking for something, but none of them had to say anything flattering. And right on the six-month anniversary (if you want to call it that) of this humble mess. Takes long enough to get any damn respect.

And, we're seeking abuse (as well as handing it out) @ Firing Miss Megan. Same pseudonym, but first person singular, as there are several of us, & your editor wouldn't want to appear to be speaking for anyone but ourself. And that's no big deal, just an open invitation we have the time to engage in. Not as if we were specifically invited or are paid. Still, they haven't told us to fuck off yet.