It has come to my attention that some of our audience is even more casual than I previously believed. This is understandable. I like to think we offer something for everyone, just not every day, and especially not on days when neither of us posts. Also, this green thing isn't working for me, so why should anyone else tolerate it? (Anybody know someone with taste who can design a no-frills web site? I have disliked frills ever since I had to collect 12 of them from Murloc slave traders in WoW.)
We cover a lot of ground here, incrementally. If you're turning in once a week for my long-promised rant about the sad state of pornography, only to find another two-man Battlestar Galactica pile-on (now that would be something to write about: Doc Cottle getting some action), you might be wondering what else you could do with your eight-hour workday. Or perhaps you only care to read what Mr. Bile has to say about the merits of different types of dice. Or maybe you only check in for links to hot chicks with MySpace pages.
Again, understandable. Not everyone is into book reviews, movie criticism, over-analysis of television shows, porn, videogames, eclectic music recommendations, and reads blogs. The number of weird people out there clearly outnumber us mundanes.
So I had an idea. To the best of my knowledge, our readership at the moment is small and manageable. I was thinking of creating e-mail lists divided into various categories: movies, comics, board games, scooters, vacation, fall, etc. Those readers who don't care to browse through all the topics we cover would get a notice when, "Hey, someone finally wrote about football realism!"
Of course, this sort of thing won't be necessary for anyone reading this post, but I wanted to get some feedback on it. My long-term goal for the site is to gain contributors and readership, and I think this might be a good step towards increasing casual traffic. Let me know what you think, or if you have anything to say about the Burning Crusade, because I just don't feel like I'm running a real site without WoW:BC updates.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The Price Of Clean
Some time ago, my ceiling had an aneurysm, letting a rich spray of arterial roofwater into my apartment. Since then, I've been inspired to launch a number of cleaning assaults onto my already questionable carpet, in the hopes of reverting it from bad beige to good beige. My latest ploy to this end involved buying a mediocre steam cleaner, immediately losing the instruction manual, and improvising from there.
At first, the large tufts of pitch black hair that the cleaner kicked up delighted me. I didn't know where the hell they came from, but each one was proof that my house was getting incrementally better.
Then I heard the scratching coming from the attached water tank, and found out that I've got a damn ghost stuck in it. Not one of those mostly domesticated Midwest ghosts, either. I've got one of those Asian Longhairs that came over to America six years ago, before Customs learned to check shipments of imported Asian lumber for infestations. Without any unnatural predators to control them, the damn things are popping up everywhere.
I don't know to do about her, and I certainly don't know what she was doing in my carpet. The apartment's previous tenant has moved to Japan, and asking him over long distance if he happens to know why there's a dead girl in my room seems ill advised. Plus, the guidebooks agree that knowing a Longhair's secret past just pisses it off, anyway. What the guides don't agree on is a way to successfully get rid of a Longhair. I could just drop the water tank off at a landfill, but then I'd be out of a water tank, and constantly afraid that the ghost would go on an Incredible Journey back to my place.
The worst thing about the situation is her age. My apartment does have a contract that assures me that "Any spectral denizens within your apartment are all eighteen years of age or older, and do not represent any living or fictional characters." It would be a nice piece of CYA legalese, if it wasn't so obviously a pack of lies. The girl is...eight, perhaps. I'm willing to go so far as twelve. Either way, it looks bad, and I want her gone before my neighbors find out.
I'm probably going to have to get Narraptor to deal with the damn thing. Longhairs are pretty damn instant that they get the last word in, but after his extra-strength exorcism of this blog, I'm pretty sure he can handle her. But that means I'll have to commit to PAX, and watch people play Dance Dance Revolution for cash and prizes. There are worse fates, but none of them involve complete strangers telling me how great The Minibosses are.
At first, the large tufts of pitch black hair that the cleaner kicked up delighted me. I didn't know where the hell they came from, but each one was proof that my house was getting incrementally better.
Then I heard the scratching coming from the attached water tank, and found out that I've got a damn ghost stuck in it. Not one of those mostly domesticated Midwest ghosts, either. I've got one of those Asian Longhairs that came over to America six years ago, before Customs learned to check shipments of imported Asian lumber for infestations. Without any unnatural predators to control them, the damn things are popping up everywhere.
I don't know to do about her, and I certainly don't know what she was doing in my carpet. The apartment's previous tenant has moved to Japan, and asking him over long distance if he happens to know why there's a dead girl in my room seems ill advised. Plus, the guidebooks agree that knowing a Longhair's secret past just pisses it off, anyway. What the guides don't agree on is a way to successfully get rid of a Longhair. I could just drop the water tank off at a landfill, but then I'd be out of a water tank, and constantly afraid that the ghost would go on an Incredible Journey back to my place.
The worst thing about the situation is her age. My apartment does have a contract that assures me that "Any spectral denizens within your apartment are all eighteen years of age or older, and do not represent any living or fictional characters." It would be a nice piece of CYA legalese, if it wasn't so obviously a pack of lies. The girl is...eight, perhaps. I'm willing to go so far as twelve. Either way, it looks bad, and I want her gone before my neighbors find out.
I'm probably going to have to get Narraptor to deal with the damn thing. Longhairs are pretty damn instant that they get the last word in, but after his extra-strength exorcism of this blog, I'm pretty sure he can handle her. But that means I'll have to commit to PAX, and watch people play Dance Dance Revolution for cash and prizes. There are worse fates, but none of them involve complete strangers telling me how great The Minibosses are.
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