Wait Till Next Year

On the Blogger home page there was an article about the Bloggies. No, not those milk creatures that used to torment Cap'n Crunch. The Bloggies are awards for weblogs. Aside from the heeps of prestige that comes with such an honor, winners also recieve $20.05. With a crisp new twenty in my money clip, the ladies would surely be all up ons. And if they weren't, I could use the nickel to hypnotize them.

But it's not to be. Mostly because my swinging single days are over. Okay, they were really more like my hiding in the shadows while I mope and lament about my string of painfully unrequited infatuations days. But more importantly, the nominations have already been announced. From Saturday, January 1, through Monday, January 10, anyone was able to nominate their favorite weblogs. That would have been nice to know before, say anytime between January 1-10.

With it's diarrhea green color-scheme, my site probably wouldn't be winning any awards for design, but it could have had a chance in the humor and writing categories. Or at least the "best-kept-secret" award. I think it's safe to say the collective readers of this site could all fit in an elevator together, unless one of you is one of those morbidly obese shut-ins that make Richard Simmons cry. If you are, sorry about that last statement. I'll have my people send your people a glazed ham.

I wonder if they have a televised awards show? It would be interesting to see the mummified remains of Joan Rivers and her daughter (otherwise known as an embarrassing reminder of her drunken tryst with Mr. Ed) interviewing the nominees on the red carpet, desperately clinging to what little relevance they ever had. It would probably end in tragedy, as the glut of fashion-impaired web masters would cause Joan to spew her acid-tonged barbs at such a lightning-fast pace that her head explodes.

Of course they'd have to have the inexplicable choreographed dance number for each nominee. Like the New Jersey Firefighter's Dance Troop salute to fark.com. And of course the solemn tribute to the weblogs that we have lost in the past year. We'll miss you, Bookblog. Actually, I never heard of you until I Googled "discontinued blogs," but now I feel bad that I didn't get to know you better.

I don't think I would be able to handle the pressure of being nominated anyway. You get all excited, call all your friends and tell them about it. You work on an acceptance speech, practice it in front of the mirror, and when the day finally comes, you have to sit there and try not to show the spite and contempt bubbling over inside you when defective yeti wins instead of you.

I'll be ready next year, you'll see. I'll show them. I'll show them all. Plus I could really use twenty dollars.