What the hell? I am 0-4 in the battle of the blogs and have dropped the last three by a score of 8-7. Can people let me know what they dislike about my blog? Is it the design, my ugly mug...your input is need. Thanks.
Read RELIEF below this entry if you're from BlogEx
I am trying to track down solid Blog listing sites so if anyone has any please post a link here. So far I've only found one, but I'll keep adding to the list as I find them.
I’ve figured out a new way to have fun, burn off energy and relieve stress. I call this new method R.E.L.I.E.F. (Run Everywhere Like an Infant Entreating Friends) and the philosophy was inspired by my nearly-three-year-daughter Sophia. A few days ago it struck me that Sophia runs everywhere, for everything, no matter how tired she may be or frivolous her destination is.
For example:
“Sophia,” I call out. “Come and get your Flintstones Vitamin,” and her little knees reach higher and higher until she’s at my side.
“Sophia,” I say, “there is a telemarketer on the line that wants to sell me a shinny new vacuum for $2, 000,” and bang, she speeds down the carpeted hallway, into my office, elbows cranking and nearly out of breath. “Kind of vacuum?” she quizzes.
“Sophia,” I yell. “Come and pull Daddy’s finger,” no matter how many times she’s previously fell for this, like Carl Lewis she sprints to me, pulls said finger, and then sprints away with a little more dedication.
I’ve been applying this new philosophy in small increments in my life, usually for menial task and at inappropriate times. Yesterday I ran like the law was chasing me, away from my car, into the bank, right up to the teller and withdrew $1.37. The teller asked me what my hurry was and I told her ‘life is short’ and booked back to my car.
It’s great fun, acting like your crazy (though all of us aren’t acting) and it really gets the blood pumping. This morning I trekked to the nearby Wal-Mart to buy razors, bandages and some bottled water (don’t ask.) I flung my door open, raced through the parking lot and dove headfirst through the sliding glass entrance.
“Welcome to Wal-Mart,” said a heavyset greeter.
“Ready,” I shouted at him as I sprung to my feet, “Go!” and I sprinted past him and into the store. Wal-Mart, I now know, frowns on re-creations of O.J. Simpson’s Avis commercials, but I still had fun.
Try it sometime. When the boss-man says “Smith, run to the store and buy some envelopes, some Juji Fruits and a gallon of paint thinner,” do just that, run. Kick Larry from accounting in the chest as you hurdle his desk and give Barbara the receptionist a strong elbow to the kidneys as you dart past the copy machine. Then Push through your company’s front door and into freedom with the theme song from Chariots of Fire pumping through your brain. You’ll feel great and what a R.E.L.I.E.F. (This acronym really rocks!)
I wouldn’t advise the self-medicating crowd to attempt R.E.L.I.E.F. as jumping from your bar stool and blazing through the door of the Alcan and into traffic might be a relief to some, but probably not to you.
Another draw back of R.E.L.I.E.F.’s is that if you’re out of shape (I’m in shape, but it’s an egg-shape) you might be one double-cheeseburger and brisk jog away from a heart attack. If, during your running, you feel an uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing or pain in the center of your chest that lasts for more than a few minutes, try my other stress-relieving method called S.Y.A.D. (Sit Your Ass Down.) To be safe, check with a doctor before you run through Southgate Mall like your undines are on fire.
So far I am finding great relief with R.E.L.I.E.F. and like my hero Forrest Gump once said:
"Who keeps us Sober?" This is a phrase that continuously pops up in the
12-step meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. I've sat in my chair, patiently
thinking, "who is it that keeps me sober?" The leaders, the so-called
trusted sponsers, like to give credit to a Higher Power, or a Being that is
not on Earth. They say that I should place my trust in something that I
cannot see. They say that "[my] Higher Power" will keep me sober, and, at
the same time, "restore me to sanity." After my three months of sobriety,
all I can say is that from where I stand, the only person who has kept me
sober is myself.
The sponser approaches me, "Seth, you need to find something that is your
Higher Power, something that you know is your own version of a Higher
Power."
"Well, I believe in the Universe," I say. "So by the methods I should
adhere to by your 12-step strictures, I should give credit to planet
Jupiter. I guess it's not me doing it, but some far off asteroid, or a comet
that's ready to throttle itself into the sun. Gee... this makes me feel so
much better. Thanks for the credit, and the shiney, cheap token that you
give me for sweating out the last three months."
The sponser looks at me with downcast eyes.
"Seth, maybe you can see it in spirits. Maybe there's something out there
who you can pray to that will keep you sober."
I think for a moment. The image of my passed away grandfather pops into my
head.
layout...
"Are you telling me that I should give the credit to my dead grandfather?
The one who used to pilot steel-jets for Northwest? The man who used to
drink excessively? The man who would drink a bottle of whiskey and hit on
flight-attendants on flight 509? The man who used to get his kicks by
flirting with teenage girls while getting high by smoking drugs in an opium
den in some shady Saigon district. You want me to give him credit? Not only
is that insulting to me, but it's espeically insulting, and laughable to
him. If he could, he'd come back from the grave and say, 'those A.A. give
you no credit, kid. You keep yourself sober... not some "mystery spook!"
One day, a few weeks ago, you asked me how sober life was going. Well,
this is the best way I can describe it
Note: To the thousands of people who visit my site ( Aloha Mallori) be forewarned that my blog/online mag is a project for a class at the University of Montana in Missoula were I am a senior in print journalism. What follows is a plan designed to get this mag some real exposure and earn myself some big bucks (but not in that order.) The class I am taking is taught by Jonathan Weber, former editor and chief of The Industry Standard and current founder and editor of New West, “a network of online communities devoted to the culture, economy, politics, environment and overall atmosphere of the Rocky Mountain West,” New West . So if this blog entry seems a bit dry, that’s because it is, but dry content is better then no content and I’m a busy boy. Kick back and read my proposals and add any questions, comments concerns or just skip it and wait until I write something worth a piss.
Aloha,
Mark
...I won’t say exactly who this printer is (and they are not in Kalispell and they don’t publish the CFC’s rival weekly newspaper) but printers in general are scum.
75% white...
I have attempted to work with printers before (I helped launch the Clark Fork Chronicle, a weekly community newspaper that covers Frenchtown, Alberton, Superior and St. Regis) and found the people to be one of the lowest form of life on the planet (right up there with the bureaucrats at my school.)
Circulation plan.
I won’t say exactly who this printer is (and they are not in Kalispell and they don’t publish the CFC’s rival weekly newspaper) but printers in general are scum. Our printer didn’t care if the paper made it out on Friday (when they were supposed to have it done) or merrily postpone the delivery of our fish-wrap on Monday, cutting three days off our shelf-life and burning our advertisers out of 40% of their ad week. That was just the tip of the iceberg, but I’m pressed for time so just let me say that there is no way that I want to publish a print magazine in Montana. I don’t have the funds, the time, the penitence nor do I want to scramble up the side of a clock tower and start thinning out the crowd.
...this will
look like some of the pullquotes and styles we see in magazinelayout...
An on-line mag is the way I’m going. When it comes to the circulation of this project it’s going to have to be cheap, i.e. fry me up some links (and trade with anyone who’ll have me.)
Here’s a list of folks that I’ve contacted
A letter from a crazed friend …Creative Writing Degree gone bad
Mark,
old women come into my hotel and flirt with me and try to get free rooms.
but when i tell them the price of a room their little trigger-happy hearts
jump out of their chests and explode onto my cleaned lobby floor. old
people, with the exception of my grandma, should be ground up into purina.
sorry if this offends those of moralistic behavior, or with weak guts, but
hell, who needs these wentches mopping up their vacations on my, and your,
social security expense accounts.
![](http://static.flickr.com/25/55660918_a3017b632f_m.jpg/")
