Wading through the crap

So I pushed the wrong button and up pops this site that tells me my blog is worth $5296.92. Apparently without even asking me there's someone out there willing to trade my blog for $5296.92. When were they going to tell me? Just the outgoing links alone are worth $1349.23.
So what if they sold shares in my blog and someone gets a controlling interest. Would they demand I write in a different style? Would they demand I stopped posting wussy photos of wild flowers and start posting candid shots of the next door neighbours daughter obtained with a long lens? I could go on strike and stop writing. That would fuck em all up. But the main point is who gave them permission to offer MY blog up for sale. It wasn't me.....

So I was playing with the next blog button at the top of this page and finding all sorts of crap; angst ridden girls from Singapore, sad blokes who can't get a girl friend, mumsy mums bringing up their two or three children in a loving christian home (per-lease), someone on a gap year posting photos from Guatemala, resource pages for...... (don't make me list them), A New York Yankees fan who meticulously analyses every pitch and every bat of each game (yawn), I've lost count of the "CraZy gurls" and "InSaNe" blokes, I want to slit my own wrists with their lack of originality. But then I stumbled upon Rachel Fuller, she's a singer/ songwriter, she writes half decently, she's cute, she posts pictures and as I'm looking at the pictures I stop and I recognise the face. No. It can't be. Surely not. It looks like him. She calls him Peter. I read some more to get clues. I'm sure it's him. Then it's confirmed. It's Pete Townsend himself. He's Rachels boyfriend. Oh yeah and Pete himself also has a blog but I've lost the link. Doh!

Meanwhile yesterday was Dels birthday. He phones me up ten minutes after I'd eaten to ask me to go out to dinner with them. Doh!
So Del has this new weight loss plan. He watches sport on TV. Apparently you use up more energy watching sport on TV than you do watching soaps.
If you've a mind, wish Delbert the magnificent a Happy Birthday.
Bless his cotton socks.

Rock on Dudes