Are you there readers? It’s me, Jen.

You know what I just discovered about the weekends?  Besides how much it hurts to wake up at 6:30 a.m. when you can remember back to a magical time a mere four years ago when you could sleep until whenever you bloody well felt like.  How four years ago, you only saw 6:30 a.m. on days you were paid money to see 6:30 a.m.  When it wouldn’t have matter that you stayed up until 1 a.m. watching violent Pay-Per-Views because no one was going to mind if you slept clean through until Monday because no one had a wet diaper that needed to be dealt with tout de suite.  Besides that?

Yes, I’m tired.  Why do you ask?

Well, I discovered…not really discovered, as I came to realize it quite early after I started blogging…that people don’t really read blogs on the weekend.  Or at least not mine.  Yesterday, given a perfectly debatable post regarding the elimination of an extremely popular Olympic event, my site was visited by less than half it’s regular number of readers.  And looking at the length of time spent, most of them accidentally stumbled here looking for pictures of tornadoes and Harry Connick, Jr and were sorely disappointed.

But I guess this is ok.  People need a break on the weekends.  I suppose most people read blogs at work, keeping one tab open to something work-relevant, like the newspaper or something, so they can quickly toggle back and forth if someone important walks by.  Or so I’ve heard.  And then on the weekends, people spend time with their families doing family stuff that probably doesn’t include blog-stalking with the kiddies.  Whatever.  That’s fine.

This discovery, or acceptance, led to the conclusion that I should save the good stuff for Mondays and I could probably just post whatever I want on the weekends because who’s going to see it anyway?

Ok then.  Here’s a useless confession.  I’m afraid of large animals.  What?  You too?  Weeeeird.  Especially whales.  I love all of God’s furry, scaley, cute, ugly, loveable, creepy creatures, but the big ones make me skeevy.  I also can’t look at any large gathering of animals, no matter what the species, without wanting to toss my lunch.  Spiders, kittens, babies.  If there’s more than, say, three of anything living, I’m about ready to puke.

Speaking of puke.  This post was written in two parts.  Pre-being barfed on by Avery and post-being barfed on by Avery.  Because I was holding Avery, standing at the kitchen counter, hoping to pop this thing off in ten minutes or so, when Avery yacked all over me, the counter, the dishwasher, the floor, and into the sink.  The recovery process involved a lot of paper towels, anti-bacterial soap, and bleach.  Luckily it didn’t land on the laptop.  Close, but it remains splash-free.  And *sniff, sniff* I thought I had temporarily sufficiently washed my victimized pants, but I can smell that they’ll require proper laundering.

So I should probably stop obsessively proofreading this and take care of my fragrant pants.  Besides, I think I’ve done enough damage here and there’s no one reading this anyway.

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21 thoughts on “Are you there readers? It’s me, Jen.

  1. Yeah, it bothers me too that nobody reads my stuff on the weekends. It’s like ‘what you’re not as obsessed with me as I am? What the hell?’
    And it’s strange to think that most of the people who blog do it at work. I would never blog at work. Except on my work’s blog. I’d feel super guilty…

    • In all honesty, usually I’m a phantom poster. As in I write them the night before and schedule them to be posted the next day. But I read other blogs at work and I do feel guilty.

  2. The winner of my sock contest has not even logged in! This depresses me. I guess it’s good that I cranked out that piece of crap tooth fairy post on a Sunday morning. I’m okay with people ignoring that. That LATEST one, though. It’s awesome.

    Go change your pants, Missy.

    • Uh! Rude! They should have been refreshing every five minutes starting at midnight.

      Meh with the pants. I’ll change them when I feel like it’s affecting the quality of life for the other people in the house.

  3. I received chocolate from you in the mail yesterday. I will read your blog on the weekends forever, if that’s what you ask of me.

    Delicious, it is! Thank you so very much.

  4. You sent Sarah P chocolates?? I’m the best blog matchmaker ever!!

    I read on the weekends, but I get maybe a third of my usual hits then. I post on the weekends too, just to teach myself a lesson about caring too much about pageviews.

    • I did send her chocolates. I had a contest and she wanted the prize so she entered and then she won! Yay!

      Yeah…pageviews are my life. That’s pretty sad. But I’m not at the point where I can admit I have a problem.

  5. I read on the weekends!! Once the kid is in bed I have no life… LOL. I am also guilty of sometimes checking back to see your funny tweets! I’m not a twitter-er, but live vicariously through you.

  6. Such is why I limit myself to three days a week, and never post on the weekends. That and I can only think of so much funny stuff. But I do like to catch up w/blogs on Sunday night, hence the current commenting.

    Oh, and does this mean you’re going to hold off on posting until tomorrow about how the red, white, and blue handed you guys your asses on the ice tonight? Because I don’t wanna miss that one.

    • Hmm…maybe I’ll try to convince AH to do a guest post about the hockey. Or maybe I’ll sneak a recorder under his couch cushion and conduct a stealth interview. Because I don’t watch hockey. Like, at all. Should I rescind my Canadian citizenship myself?

  7. Sorry…I’m totally a weekday reader. Weekends are usually spent playing Mafia Wars and Farmville. There’s only so much computer time to go around…here how about some supplies for a chop shop…will that get me back in the good books??

  8. Okay, I’m totally reading this on Monday morning, at work. But… I do actually read a lot on the weekends (although not this weekend) but I don’t comment as much. Which is weird, because I don’t have to worry about that toggling tabs thing, but meh.

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