Yo Quiero Emetrol

A drum roll, Maestro, please

And now, back by not-quite-popular-but-that-won't-stop-her demand, City Girl!
:: roaring crowd::

And while the crowd is on its collective feet let's hear it for Comet Girl!
:: crazed Beatles-induced screaming ::

I could not - could NOT - have asked a better-suited, more talented, better-spoken/written or more creatively fabulous woman to pinch hit while I was having a little nip-tuck.

She was afraid that she wasn't creative enough, dontchaknow. Didn't know if she could pull it off. She the former English Major with a wit that will cut you off at the knees. Silly bitch.

So just to prove to her how thoroughly mistaken she was, lemme share this:

I monitor who reads this blog. I can't see who you are, obv, but I can see from whereabouts you come. Lots of Florence, Huntsville and, incomprehensibly, Malaysia regulars out there in the audience.

Thanks to a very simple, free widget/plug-in thingy y'all are analyzed, summarized and sent to me with a bow on top in the form of a neat little weekly report.

So there is a guy - we'll assume he is a guy - in Columbia, South Carolina who Googled "stomach virus" and landed at Comet Girl's Taco Hell post. And stayed there for four minutes. FOUR MINUTES. Four minutes in stomach flu time is actually measured with a Julian Calendar, not a watch. But this poor, sick soul was so engrossed in, so enraptured by the Taco Hell story that he couldn't tear himself away to go to, oohhh, Web MD (that's why I assume he's a he) for actual information on how to relieve the symptoms of this most vile gastrointestinal affliction.

So unless Comet Girl has a cousin in The State That Will Make Stephen Colbert President who has a very unusual way of making his way to this little spot in cyberspace, she is inarguably blog-tastic. End of discussion.

Nobody :: sniff :: spends four minutes at any of our posts. Silly, silly bitch.


Comet Girl said…
Touché! Thanks for the kudos! I had fun.