Frickn Frackn Frappr Fuckr

After many e-mails yesterday, I decided it's time to admit... I have no idea how you join my Frappr map. There. I said it. I'd really like to help, I just can't. If any of you figured it out and have a moment, please share a how-to-guide in the comments below for the others to enjoy. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

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In other family news, it would seem that they aren't all reading my blog anymore. I clearly stated a couple of days ago that I was sick of all the death and sickness among my family and friends. To adlib myself I said something like, "Cut it the fuck out!"

Here's proof that Angie isn't paying attention to this blog anymore. She went to the emergency room the other night and found out she has four kidney stones. "What the fuck?" I ask unto her!

"Oh my, I'm pinging rocks out of my cooter. Look!" Nice try Ang, but I ain't lookin'. Get fucking better and make it fast 'cuz I'm in a goddamned hurry. See what you have done? You made me damn god, and it isn't even his fault. Whatever Ang.

It's just like the little attention whore to do this. Take the sick little spotlight away from Mary's internal peanut buttery illness, and steal her wheelchair while you're at it. Angie has always been like that. When we were little, I could be burning up with a fever of 105 degrees fahrenheit, and damn it all if she didn't come down with a case of the projectile vomits.

I'd be all snuggled bugged up in our mother's arms getting all sorts of much deserved attention, and Angie would ruin it every time by barfing and then acting like a baby because barfing made her cry. Mom would fling me off of her like a hot potato and go running to Angie's rescue.

She would hold Angie's hair out of the way and rub her back and console her, while I died alone on the couch. A couple of times I think I saw Angie give me the finger when our mom wasn't looking. Chances are she is flipping me the bird right now.

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Former Illinoisan Kyle Shannon, now resides in Suburban Hell. He recently began his own blog where he shares his rage with the world. I just "found" him a couple of nights ago. I bet the poor guy didn't even know he was lost. This isn't like finding God or anything but I do have to preach a little because he cracks my shit up. Anyhow, you know what it's like, you go clicking around the net and you're bound to find trouble. Poof, there was Kyle Shannon.

He blogs in audio posts only, which means if you are on dialup, you're going have to wait a long time for the 10-16 minute posts to load. Are they called Podcasts now? Or is that just what they call it if you're listening to it on something with Pod in the name? I never got a memo about that so I'll keep calling them audio posts until someone from the Internet police tells me differently.

So this Kyle fella is funnier than shit. In his latest post he's pissed off at himself for not being pissed off enough. I find that amusing. Plus he says my name a lot. (Narcissistic much Lois? No! Say my name bitch! ~ Mental note to self: Resolve to remove multiple personalities from my head.)

His earlier posts, before he knew there was a Russian spambot porn chick listening, are even funnier. So checkout his older stuff too, there is no expiration date on humor.

As his first fan, I am obligated by imaginary friend laws and clause to send all of you over to take a listen and leave a comment welcoming him into the world of Blog or Plog. So please take some time today or this weekend to stop by his site. Don't get caught listening at work. He says fuck more than I type it and I don't want your boss to think you suddenly came down with Tourette's Syndrome.

Have a great weekend everybody!

(Angie stop faking and get your ass back to work!)