Who are you? who-who, who-who?

Hello (hello...hello...)

Is there anybody out there (out there...out there...)


So they tell me today is National Delurker Day. (Translation: National Day where you step out of the shadows of internet anonymity and leave a comment on my page to let me know that there are people out there in the universe besides my parents who may have stumbled upon this blog and had their minds blown by my way with words had at least a vague interest in any of what I have to say.

Interestingly enough, I recently checked my blogger stats. You know, the ones that tell you what Google searches lead people to your site? So far the top 2 Google searches that have led people to Stewzie? MY DOG ATE A BRILLO PAD and REDNECK HALLOWEEN. Am I proud of my online legacy? You bet I am. I'm the go-to girl for dog vomit and hillbilly costumes!

I know that random strangers are out there. Poor, unsuspecting souls who desperately search for advice on just what the hell to do when your dog DOES swallow steel wool...but find THIS. People looking for top-notch white-trashiness...hit the jackpot with THIS.

So do me a favor and tell me who you are. Doesn't matter if I don't know ya. In fact, that's the whole point of today. I WANT TO KNOW YOU! Doesn't matter if I do know ya. I still need to know you're reading. Without comments, I don't have a clue who my audience is. Please, go forth and comment! C'mon, you know you want to!

Incentive: If I get 10 comments, I just might post a picture of my brillo-swallowing dog wearing full-on redneck attire!

Seriously

Is having a painted wooden yard sign depicting a dog taking a dump in your yard... THAT much more appealing than risking having a dog take an actual dump in your yard?

Is it bad that I really want to go get one of those fake little rubber dog poos and place it smack underneath that atrocious yard sign? Just for fun?

Germans eat Mexican

It all started when I was a kid. My family would travel to the Northshore (of Lake Pontchartrain, for all you out-of-towners) for a New Year's Eve party at my Aunt's house. We'd go early enough in the day to hit up some local firework stands and perhaps do a little post-Christmas shopping.

For whatever reason, we'd have a late lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Years have gone by and our New Years Eve plans have diversified, but the Mexican lunch has stuck around. It's become my favorite Mohr family tradition, second only to my dad hanging rubber fried eggs from the ceiling fans for Christmas (don't ask). This year we did some figuring and realized that this is our 20th year of Mexicaning it up. Well, probably our 20th year. Might be only the 19th, but since it took us this long to actually remember to take a picture, we're calling it the 20th. Plus, it's my story so I'll make it whatever year I want.

Forget black eyed peas and cabbage. We rely on chips & salsa for good luck!



Happy New Year! (or Feliz New Year, if you prefer)