It's Our Anniversary!

This post marks a very special occasion in a world where things are called special occasions when they are neither special nor occasions. Aside from being the first day I've used 'nor' correctly in a sentence, it's also my 200th post and just about my 2-year Anniversary writing this thing.

Usually the first anniversary is the paper anniversary, the 25th is silver, 50th is gold. If memory serves me correctly, I believe the second anniversary is denim. So, to celebrate, I bought my blog a jean jacket and denim fanny pack.

Plus, as with anything celebrating its second year in existence, I get to have raucous familial relations with my weblog until one of us starts to cry.

Pedophilia joke, check!

Anyway, I was being reflective; let me get back to that. I've seen my audience of readers grow from a paltry zero to around four (one of whom is my mother--seriously, my mom reads this) in only two years! That's amazing growth. I mean, that's two more than I could have physically brought into this world in the same timespan (provided I didn't lose my good testicle in an awful cheese-grating/dodgeball accident--I know, I shouldn't have been doing the two at the same time, my bad, but I can't play dodgeball without some nachos) with one woman, of course, because I'm classy and all about monogamy; monogamy means anal sex, right?

Penis joke (balls-bone connected to the penis-bone so it counts), check!

I was going to make fun of my first post to commemorate my growth as both a writer and a gentleman lover, but after re-reading it, it's too painful to read and, honestly, have I really come that far? The Iraq War has come further than I have and people there still die on a daily basis.

Then I was going to go through and try to make a "Greatest Hits" type of thing, but not only is that arrogant, but you actually have to have "Hits" in order to compile a "Greatest" list of them. I don't even find this thing funny. I do it for the people (even the retards, though, technically, they're not people but, rather, the intangible "burdens on society").

Retard joke, check!

So, instead, I've written this post of could-haves and should-have-beens and hyphenated words.

Enough of that nonsense. My two-year anniversary matters as much as a new haircut on a fat girl.

Fat joke, check!

My work in this post is done. Just going through the motions here, kids.

I respond to reader's comments:
This last batch of comments was a doozy. I post pictures of myself after two years of writing behind a Mexican wrestling mask and I'm greeted by the Backhanded Compliment Society.

At 8/06/2005 2:16 AM, deleted said...

OHMYGOD!!! that's you!!! i always thought you were some ugly shithead. alas..

So I'm not an ugly shithead? Thanks! I suppose this still makes me a shithead since that's not so much reflective of what one looks like, but at least I'm not, in the most extreme sense of the word, ugly.

At 8/06/2005 5:26 PM, EOB said...
I too was surprised at your face. I had assumed seeing it would turn me to stone, or perhaps salt. And I was pleasantly surprised to find out you are not cross-eyed.

This is another quite uplifting comment. So I don't, as only mythical creatures are capable of doing, turn somebody to stone upon them seeing my face. Nor (my second nor this post, baby!) do I make people go all Lot's wife up in this bitch. And it's a pleasant surprise that I'm not cross-eyed? I'm not sure how to take this one, really. I guess at least you didn't say you were pleasantly surprised to find out that I'm not black (which makes me very happy--I couldn't handle having to wear all the baggy clothes or getting diarrhea from chocolate milk).

At 8/08/2005 4:04 PM, Molly said...

Yeah, WTF!? How could you not be deformed?

My mental image of you is shattered. You don't even have a crazy look about you! It is Ted Bundy terrifying to think you could just walk around and blend in. Your face says, "I'm nice, give me your phone number," while your blog says, "Grapes are nature's anal beads."

I wish I was deformed now. I wish I was like the Phantom of the Internet and you all were my Christine. That's probably the gayest reference I'll ever make (who are we kidding? I've made hundreds of comments about receiving an anal pounding from various people/objects--and if I haven't, just know that I've wanted to). So if I was deformed beneath that mask, then I guess my horrible outlook on the world and its people would somehow be more justified?

It's an act, people! I'm actually a born-again Christian and I teach a Youth Group on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I do charity work with the mentally handicapped (not retards, that's insensitive) and I'm an advocate for abstinence until marriage and sometimes even after. I build specially-made bicycles by hand and completely at my own expense for the wheelchair-bound. I have a wife, Lashonda, and two beautiful kids, Isaiah and Mary. I'm in the process of finishing up a book that I've written that details a way to "cure the gay" just by thinking it out. It's called God Won't Hate You Anymore When You Finish This Book and it's being published by Penguin. I worked for the George W. Bush re-election campaign and I've bombed three abortion clinics because, as we all know, abortion is murder, but bombings are God's work.

Edit: In an interesting twist, I went grocery shopping after I wrote this and heard the song that I titled this post after while I was buying tomatoes! God is real!

Interesting thought of the YEAR:
The man who invented Vaseline ate a spoonful of it every day. The inventor of shit-flavored Jell-O refuses to do the same thing.