Little Drummer (I Mean Trumpet) Boy

So in the name of full disclosure I have to say that I shamelessly enjoy finding out who's been looking at my blog. This is why I've added the little app to your right which attempts (poorly) to tell me where people are viewing my blog from. So, first the state of Wisconsin is blowing up my blog, so I'd love to know who this person is because I'm excited. In addition someone in Sweden looked at my blog and I was thrilled. I've gone global! But then I did a little bit of research and it turns out Swedish perv had Googled "underage in underwear" and it brought him/her to my similarly titled "Underage and Underwear" blog post. G-r-o-s-s. Maybe while on my site he/she should have read the creeper post.

Now for the real reason for this post. Some of you who know me may have heard me complain about the the kid who lives in the neighborhood behind me. For the first two years that I lived here this kid would go out in his backyard and play half rate renditions of TERRIBLE Christmas songs. This would last for three months. Literally. There would be a few days when he would stop and I would think, "Finally! His parents have suggested he try his hand at something else. Bless their hearts," but then he would start it back up. I could never see him because my view of backyard was occluded by trees, but I always pictured him as this adorable little third grader with glasses who's life goal is to march with his high school band in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. So I gave him a pass. I'll listen to his pathetic version of "Deck the Halls" in order to support his dreams and give his parents a break from him playing in his bedroom. I've been so busy hating school this season that I hadn't even noticed the fact that no windows had broken and no dogs had been rendered deaf due to his inability to play. A Christmas miracle! So this morning as I enjoy not having to wake up for an 8 a.m. class I am thrown out of p-e-r-f-e-c-t slumber by what sounds like someone hitting a hammer to 4x4 OVER and OVER. Shoot me. So at 2:30 this ruckus is still going on. I got outside to see where this business is coming from. And wouldn't you believe. Trumpet boy and his hooligan friends are in the back yard literally just hitting a block of wood with a sledgehammer. What the hell? You have got to be kidding me?! And jerk isn't even in third grade. He's like 14! Where the hell are his parents and why do they think it's acceptable? He'll probably never get to play in the Macy's parade and I don't even care anymore. I hope he gets coals for Christmas.

As a side note, today I read an article about a UGA Ph.D student who started a blog about unnecessary quotation marks. To me this sounds like an unnecessary blog, but whatever. Somehow, someone at the New York Times saw her blog, thought it was quality and wrote about it. Now she has a book deal. All because she wrote about quotations. I've written about creepers and blood splatter and underwear and even Comic Sans. So the point I'm trying to make here is READ MY BLOG New York Times!

Also, I may or may not have watched Pretty Woman two times yesterday and I can never get enough of her going back to the snot of a lady and standing up for herself.