Oh, I know. You are nearly beside yourself with angst over my BlogLand housing crisis.
- Where will she stay?
- When will she get there?
- How will we recognize her?
- What on earth is she doing now?
- Who is helping this techno-nitwit figure it out?
- Why does she move around like a fart in a skillet?
Rest assured, (like you are tossin’-n-turnin’ all night long over this) those nasty hackers won’t be bothering me in my new diggs. I hope. Anyway, sit back, have a cuppa java (or tea or hot chocolate or cold chocolate or creamed corn or whatever floats yer boat) and wait. With me. For me. While my techno-know-how team of behind-the-scenes workers unpack the rest of my crappola. My stuff. My very important stuff. Yeah, that’s it, whilst they unpack my ever important stuff.
Oh yes, these big burly dudes (like Sir Peter) will hook me up to the domain name game machine thing — ’cause we all know it ain’t happen’ under my watch. Well, I don’t even wear a watch. And besides that, I think it would sorta itch if someone where jostling about on my wrist. But you know what I mean, righto?
Anyway (now say this in your bestest Ted Baxter voice):
Folks, fans, and all you buckaroos at home, we will be with you after this short-ish interlude.
Hey, does anyone have a comb? Or mouthwash?
(Actually, this doesn’t make any sense at all because I’m already here. And there you are. Here you are… Okay, I need a drink. Of. Something. And I’m sure Sir Peter needs a bonus or a sedative or both.
Pssst, do you like my colors and header and what-not? Like you’ll say
if’n ya don’t.
Who am I foolin’? Who am I scaring is more like it.