So I still haven't figured out how to go about getting a hit number on my blog. I'm just curious as to how many folks have actually stopped in. My guess is 1. Muah, yours loserly truly.
I tried this little thing called blogging on Myspace a few months back, and as witty, funny and charming as I 'thought' I was, nobody ever came by to check me out...except for my friend Keith... but I know he only visited and left comments because I did the same for him. You rub my back, I rub yours sort of blogging relationship we had. Heheh!
Alas though, the number of readers for this little MellaView blog of mine actually doesn't bother me. If I manage to scoop up one stalker along the way I guess I could consider this diary/rambling/bandwidth hog of a page worth something; even if it is, only worth something to a stalker... or hater... what have you.
I don't really know the ins and outs of a successful blog, but I figure over time, I'll get the ropes of it. For now though, I'll just have fun with it. Treat it like my little personal friend to write notes to whenever I have something to gab about.
Anyways, moving along... today I counted (so far) 405 little holes in our ceiling tile. Just one tile of course... it would probably take me years to count how many holes are in ALL of the tiles. Although I did manage this feat once in my English class back in 11th grade. I managed to count all of the little pockets in each tile... came up with a phenomenal number as a grand total too!
Man I even had like a system for it. I'd count one tile during each class, write down the number, and move on to another tile the next day... or week.
Once I had all tiles counted, I simply added their numbers together, with my math skills... and wallah... I felt accomplished. I failed the class (yeah so!?) but I bet no one else in that entire school knows how many pocket holes are in the ceiling tiles of room 195B. Ah, but I do! I gained something from that class that nobody else did. Yeeehaaaawww!!!!
Well I guess counting the tiles here at work reminded me of that class I had in 11th grade, with that horrendous teacher, with her super humungo flat pancake rear end. Her extra long beaver like wood chopping teeth, and her hideous voice and 'theme sweaters'.
When I say theme sweaters, I mean sweaters with like chalkboards knitted on to them with little dangling knitted pieces of chalk, or Christmas lights sewn into them to be the extra tacky loose cannon of a teacher she was.
My favorite of course though was the teddy bear one, where the knitted limbs of a teddy bear actually dangled from the sweater. You know for that extra special 3D look?
What has always amused me about this English teacher of mine, is that one would think that I'd be able to remember what her name was. But you know I can't! I can though, name every other teacher I have ever had since Pre-school... and I couldn't tell you this broads name.
Perhaps though that is because her nickname was Pankcake A**, and forever she will be embedded in my mind as Pancake A**. So sad for her, and such a realization of what a prick of a kid I was.