Ugh Yaaaay (Running on adrenaline. Not sure which).
Oh Lord I am so tired. I should be in bed. Or, at the very least, writing sponsorship emails (helllooo company-owning-type-people who read my blog (really..?). I'm looking for a sponsor to take my blog to the ABC. Ignore the idiotic drivel I post and my f*lthy language and email me), or editing posts, or playing around on AMB. Or cleaning my kitchen, or organising the Chop's birthday party, or tracking down the Man's missing paperwork, or doing yoga. Or sleeping.
Or something.
But, obviously, I'm not. I am, for some Google God unknown reason, installing a new comment system on my blog. This just might be a very bad idea. We remember what happened last time I installed a new comment system on my blog, don't we? No? haven't been here that long...? Consider thyself very, very lucky, minion. It was carnage. Bloodshed. The sun rising in the east, west, whatever, mice eating cats, Disqus stalking me on Twitter.
Images pretty much irrelevant. But I stole them from here- would you believe they are wall stickers?? How freaking cool.
*Ahem*. I really need to go to bed.
So, new comment system. Intense Debate. It has CommentLuv. Which apparently is awesome for your Google search ranking and makes your boobies grow bigger. Please, take it for a test drive, leave me a comment. If you hate it, the uninstall button is only a mind blowingly easy click way. And I will totally do that for you all. Because I love you all that much. Truly.
Anywhatits. Just one more thing, before I go.... it's a small thing really thing, really. Not a big deal at all.
Except, ya know, the Bloggess commented on my blog.
Excuse me while I have heart palpitations, vomit, faint, hyperventilate and otherwise act like a thirteen year old year girl around a Justin Beiber CD. Not that thirteen years old these days have CD's. They have iThings. Which makes me iJealous. But you know what I mean.
So. Operation Link Bait- otherwise known as FYBF, thanks everyone for playing- was a success. I may just print out a copy of this comment. And add it to the shrine in my loungeroom, with the dead dog and the empty vodka bottles. On the table that I actually dust, ant the kids aren't allowed to climb on. Not that I let them do that, because as we know it's very, very dangerous. And it's all fun and games until someone loses a freaking eye.
OK. I really, really need to go to bed. Please don't break the new comment system.
Nightie night. Sleep tight. Don't let the elephants bite.
OK. ignore that last post, sorry people. Let's try this again. If it doesn't work, I give up and go to bed. It's past midnight. I should be a pumpkin by now.