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Our town often posts announcements of items people are giving away for free. Some of them are lovely and thoughtful…
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And some of them make me scratch my head.
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This saw needs a motor, belt and blade.
Good grief, what else is there….?
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Does anyone blog from the WordPress phone app?
I’ve been seeing this on my scheduling list lately and it’s got me baffled.
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Local changes.
What does that mean….they think I might be editing from Paris?
And why is it flashing back to posts I wrote a year ago?
I have to physically scroll down to get it to refresh and pop back up to current day.
No big deal, I was just wondering if it happens to anyone else. I enjoy being special, but not this time.
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Because the ball wash ads weren’t bad enough.
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Now I’m seeing this on my Facebook feed.
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Butt incense and polite bacteria?
Sorry, I find them both rude.
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Oh, look. Bright colors and assorted flavors.
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My privates do indeed go everywhere I go (except my uterus which I left at the hospital 5 years ago) but they will continue to go without butt incense for the foreseeable future.
Of this I’m sure.
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Meet Frankie Rae.
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Apparently he’s becoming a rather famous goat.
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How pathetic is it that a goat has more fans than I do?
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On second thought, he’s more photogenic, so it might make sense.
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So maybe the husband and I should get a wombat, and when we feel comfortable traveling again… I can feature the cuddly creature in my posts.
Could I share my dinner with a wombat?
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Sure.
Could I share my bed with a wombat?
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I don’t see why not.
Could I stage wombat-centric wilderness pictures?
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Of course.
Granted, the goat will one up us during the holidays …
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But uniqueness is key. And I dare you to find you another blogger who has a traveling wombat.
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And their wacky Facebook Group postings.
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Cat damage and springs that poke your butt?
Hurry up people, these won’t last long!
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A noisy big yellow machine. I shall follow this thread and report back. Who knows… maybe it’s the Beatles’ long lost submarine.
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Christ. Don’t tell my husband!
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You may not know what it feels like to fall off the turnip truck, but in my town… apparently you can fall off the potato one.
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This is a running gag because certain parts of our town lose power quite easily. Flatulent rodents will probably strike here next, stay tuned
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Sadly, I know of no retail chicken establishments.
Wonder if I could talk them into a few clever and highly motivated red squirrels instead?
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Yes, you.
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You annoying fake blogger who follows me every single day…
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With different fake pages…
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And different fake names.
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I defy you, and remove every last one of your cursed fake sites.
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If you think you’ll out stubborn me?
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I fear you’ve met your match.
My Whack a Mole record is legendary.
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Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.
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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.
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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.
While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.
As this one did the other day:
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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.
Trust me on this.
Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.
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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.
There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.
And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?
This:
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And this:
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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.
Man meat.
What have I done!
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A blogging milestone was reached by yours truly recently.
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Although I’m not sure recognition was necessary.
Now if they had a banner that said, Congratulations on posting copious amounts of useless drivel people inexplicably continue to read I could understand it.
I mean really, celebrating this post –
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Where I wax poetic about meatless meat and utterly wrong rice seems a trifle excessive.
But who am I to argue with the WordPress gods?
I’ve been here since July of 2018 and have thoroughly enjoyed the experience. If the powers that be choose to recognize my productivity? Who am I to argue.
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Yup. That’s me.
If you can’t dazzle them with content, flood them with redundancy.
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And the ridiculous things they post on their Facebook page.
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Must float didn’t seem too much to ask… which is why some smart ass posted this photo:
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I love smart asses.
In other news, coyotes.
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We hear them all the time. It’s quite eerie…
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Free roosters are the one and only free item I can’t talk my husband into.
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Hoe downing squirrels are nothing to take lightly, trust me on this.
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Chicken theft.
The world really has gone crazy.
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Bear with me while I bitch.
(I have two weeks worth of scheduled posts in the queue so the bitching will be limited at this time.)
Ever since the husband started teleworking in March, I’ve been doing a lot of blogging on my phone. Which, until the new roll out of the editor from Hell, was fine.
But now that people are being forced to use it, things have changed… at least for me.
My friend from No Facilities, Dan Antion, is always nice enough to include photos of the rabbits he sees on his walks for me. With a backyard family of foxes, bunnies are the one critter we never see at Casa River.
But when I look at his posts now…
This is what I see –
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Text over photos.
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Photos over photos.
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Text over text.
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And photos over text.
Anyway you look at it, it’s a mess.
So if any of WordPress’s inappropriately named ‘Happiness Engineers’ drop by to say hello?
Be sure and tell them I ain’t happy.
