Whorin' For Hit Count

I entered a contest at this website.

It's a really cool website, and they're really working like mad to promote it, and they're probably a little bit embarrassed to be associated with me because all I do is complain about my house, lust after the Dirty Jobs guy, and post pictures of my dirty swollen foot (and poop, I also post pictures of poop).

I heard about this contest from Amy, who actually accomplishes things around her house. In fact, if all goes according to plan (and for her, it probably will) she's going to have her living room done in time for Christmas. This Christmas! Can you imagine?

So I put a button waaaay down at the bottom of the right side over there. See it? It's orangey and it says "Vote for me" to win the contest at the website. But I linked that button to Amy's page at the contest and what I really want you to do is vote for her.

I hope the administrators (hi, administrators!) will allow this rare burst of altruistic goodness on my part, because you know what they say: if you extend your hand in kindness to a baby bunting and it bites you, well, before you know it you've got a a napkin on your head, you're drowning him in armagnac and swallowing him whole.

By which I mean to say that I am so filthy, self-indulgently rich -- so Louis-XIV-style house-proud -- that I don't need no stinking $5000 to make any improvements to the AssVac whatsoever. My half-finished kitchen is the rage. My sliding door to nowhere is to die. My exposed electricals add a dash of spice to my otherwise dull royal existence.

No, I didn't enter this well-thought-out and professionally-administered sweepstakes with any thoughts of emerging at the end victorious.

I'm just in it for the hits.


Thank you sir, may I have another?