Feb 21, 2005

Raison d'blogging

One day I will learn to copy everything I write to my blog before I lose it by a fumble-fingered keystroke.

One day I will learn to copy everything I write to my blog before I lose it by a fumble-fingered keystroke.

One day I will learn to copy everything I write to my blog before I lose it by a fumble-fingered keystroke.

One day I will learn to copy everything I write to my blog before I lose it by a fumble-fingered keystroke.

I just spent half an hour writing a nice big phat post for you guys, because I know tomorrow morning I will be up at 4:30 (that's the am, mind you) to be at work for Oh my god it's early, and so blogging will be rather low on Irrelephant's Big And Often Ignored List Of Things To Do, right above Get Hit By A Beer Truck and Have My Head Rammed Up My Arse By A Masochist.

Fortunately for me these lists never get done much past the top three or so.

So I had sat here for half an hour, listening to my wife putter in the kitchen, the sound of Bram Stoker's Dracula wafting in through the open door, and poured my irrelephantly little heart out, expounding five reason (okay, only three) why people (meaning I) blog. I had even started out with a clever little intro saying that I was no more French than French Fries (or was it shoestring potatoes?) and the whole mass of it was lost when I hit the ctrl key and something, some hot key or other that I knew nothing about, desired not, and most definitely did not want to be catapulted forward on the web to somewhere else, thereby snuffing out that whole post.

So I either start over, or go off in another direction.

I'm also for damned sure going to get myself in the habit of often Ctrl C'ing everything every few minutes, because as temporary and ephemeral blogging is, hitting a strange key makes it even more tenuous.

Yup, it's definitely gone. I checked in another window, hoping that somehow miraculously the hotkey I pressed had somehow saved and uploaded the post rather than just rearranging some phosphor dots and such, but it was not to be.

Ah well. 'Tis not to be. I'm not gonna sit here and rehash it all, I'm just gonna let it stew a little while longer. It stooed all day, one more day ain't gonna hurt none. Sorry about that.

And before I forget--I don't believe in the afterlife, think Gawd is a crashing bore, and I was never a big fan, but the wife was, and so I wish Hunter S. Thompson a swift and sure journey to wherever he has taken himself.

And because I was a complete dolt and forgot it on the day I most needed NOT to forget it, a huge humongous Happy Birthday to MY SYSTER!, who is still on the bloody island, and apparently swallowed a bug today. She didn't tell me if it was a good bug or a bad bug, or if it tickled on the way down, or if she's gonna swallow a spider to catch the bug, and a bird to catch the spider, and a cat to catch the bird and a dog to catch the cat and a redneck hunter to shoot the dog thinking it was a deer with very small and droopy antlers and a strangely long tail but there you are, she swallowed a bug.

So I'm told.

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