Showing posts with label youtube fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youtube fun. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Mirror Mirror--An Abby Gabs Video Blog
If you can't see today's video blog, point your browser to my YouTube channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/AbbyC613
And don't forget---there's still plenty of time to enter my very first giveaway! You KNOW you want your very own Donnie Wahlberg doll...don't deny it...
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Sound Track Of My Life
I recently had an encounter with a customer who's first name is "Cleavon."
Except, instead of "Dream on, Dream on" he's wailing "Clea-von, Clea-von..."
I can't for sure how often this has happened, but I noticed myself humming "Dream On" again this morning as I placed a stamp on Cleavon's monthly invoice. It's probably happened every single time I've ever encountered the guy, but today, my brain clicked in place (it's a rarity) and I thought, "Huh. I wonder how often I do that with other stuff."
So I sat down and thought about it. And chuckled as more examples of what I'll call "sound track" songs popped into my head. Songs that I'm reminded of in the most obscure, usually unrelated ways.
For instance, anytime I hear a harmonica in ANY context, I will hum Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" for the next 12 days, guaranteed.
And once this song is in my head, it's going to stay there for a very, very, VERY long time.
I'm also assuming that any other people from my generation automatically think "Collaborate and listen," anytime someone says the word, "Stop!"
If you were alive in 1990, and you had a radio, you know all the words to this song. Or most of them. Or at least the first verse.
Now, as a cat-mom, I know that cats make lots of different noises. "Waow," and "meeeh" and "rawr" are those I hear most often. But every once in awhile, I'll hear that perfectly enunciated "meow" and this pops into my head:
And as I'm walking around the house singing the little ditty, my cats (and husband) look at me as though I've developed some sort of mental disorder.
Out of all of these songs, though, the one I sing every day is prompted by an item listed in my Google Chrome Favorite's Bar. Every time I open up my browser, I see this:
...and start singing this:
Except in my head it goes: "My favorite blogs....woooaaah, they're my favorite blogs. (deep voice) Don't You Know..."
And to answer your question before you even ask it....yes, sometimes I even do the dance moves.
No I'm not making it up. And he was a really nice guy.
However, anytime his name comes up--in conversation, in paperwork, in person--I immediately hear Steven Tyler in my head.
Except, instead of "Dream on, Dream on" he's wailing "Clea-von, Clea-von..."
I can't for sure how often this has happened, but I noticed myself humming "Dream On" again this morning as I placed a stamp on Cleavon's monthly invoice. It's probably happened every single time I've ever encountered the guy, but today, my brain clicked in place (it's a rarity) and I thought, "Huh. I wonder how often I do that with other stuff."
So I sat down and thought about it. And chuckled as more examples of what I'll call "sound track" songs popped into my head. Songs that I'm reminded of in the most obscure, usually unrelated ways.
For instance, anytime I hear a harmonica in ANY context, I will hum Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" for the next 12 days, guaranteed.
And once this song is in my head, it's going to stay there for a very, very, VERY long time.
I'm also assuming that any other people from my generation automatically think "Collaborate and listen," anytime someone says the word, "Stop!"
If you were alive in 1990, and you had a radio, you know all the words to this song. Or most of them. Or at least the first verse.
Now, as a cat-mom, I know that cats make lots of different noises. "Waow," and "meeeh" and "rawr" are those I hear most often. But every once in awhile, I'll hear that perfectly enunciated "meow" and this pops into my head:
And as I'm walking around the house singing the little ditty, my cats (and husband) look at me as though I've developed some sort of mental disorder.
Out of all of these songs, though, the one I sing every day is prompted by an item listed in my Google Chrome Favorite's Bar. Every time I open up my browser, I see this:
...and start singing this:
Except in my head it goes: "My favorite blogs....woooaaah, they're my favorite blogs. (deep voice) Don't You Know..."
And to answer your question before you even ask it....yes, sometimes I even do the dance moves.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
What Happens When You Cross Cough Medicine with Bad TV?
A few days ago, while in the deepest throes of flu-induced lunacy, B and I took to our favorite pastime--watching bad TV. There we were, snuggled up on the couch under our favorite afghan, channel-surfing our hearts out, until B finally landed on one of our new favorite shows, Inside American Jail.
Now, in case you've never seen this show, here's a brief synopsis. It's produced by the creators of Cops (SCORE!) so already, you know it's going to be hilarious. It details what goes on behind-the-scenes, once the bad guys have been carted off to jail. Gone are the brief roadside encounters with Billy Bob and his "I Didn't Do It Officer" t-shirts. Now we get to spend the night in the drunk tank with Billy Bob, and watch all his colorful attempts to convince the officers that he was NOT, in fact, "Drunk In Public."
This particular episode featured a young man named Evan, who claimed to be a "child of God," and thereby innocent, despite being drunk, disorderly, disobedient, and downright dumb. (How's THAT for some alliteration?!?)
As Evan is being processed, he goes into a drunken, apologetic soliloquy in which he informs the officers (and, to our delight, the audience) that he was a child actor. Apparently, being a child actor, paired with the fact that you're a child of God, means you can get obliterated on Jack Daniels and harass your friends and neighbors. But the best part of the speech, well...
Let the record reflect that I searched HIGH and LOW for this clip so I could share it with you. For HOURS. I couldn't find it anywhere, and just quoting this guy wasn't funny enough. So please ignore my lack-of-shower, no-makeup self in my very own imitation of Evan's drunk speech...or at least the parts we could understand. (It's all in the name of comedy, after all...)
Anyone else think I sound like a mix between Forrest Gump and Bobby Boucher from The Water Boy?
Naturally, two things happened. 1) We laughed hysterically, and proceeded to quote him over and over for the next 3 days and 2) We immediately went all technological and turned to the internet to find out if his drunken speech had any validity.
Five minutes later, we were on the Internet Movie Database (best website EVER) searching for our favorite friendly drunk, Evan.
And shut my mouth, there he was. Evan Lockwood, IMDb'd. For the world to see. And he has 5 whole entires in his filmography: Fried Green Tomatoes, The Rambling Rose, some appearance in a TV series I've never heard of, and not one but TWO appearances on Inside American Jail. (And if that don't beat all, you can find him on Facebook, too. He has Three Whole Friends.)
Now, under normal circumstances, this would've produced an interesting conversation with my husband. However, we can thank the copious amounts of psueodofed in my bloodstream for the following conversation:
A: (With toothbrush still in mouth) I wonder if you can create your own IMDb profile.
B: OH MY GOD I was just wondering the same thing.
A: Cuz I've only seen Fried Green Tomatoes once, when I was like 10, and I've never seen Ramblin' Rose, so without watching those movies, how could we verify if he was even in them at all?
B: I bet he TOTALLY created that IMDb profile and put himself in those movies.
A: We could TOTALLY do that to YOU!
B: You're thinking about your blog, aren't you?
A: YES! We could put you in the MOVIES!
B: I'd only want to be in stuff that was on before I was born. Like Flipper. Or I Love Lucy.
Well, Brian...Your wish, as they say, is my command.
Now, in case you've never seen this show, here's a brief synopsis. It's produced by the creators of Cops (SCORE!) so already, you know it's going to be hilarious. It details what goes on behind-the-scenes, once the bad guys have been carted off to jail. Gone are the brief roadside encounters with Billy Bob and his "I Didn't Do It Officer" t-shirts. Now we get to spend the night in the drunk tank with Billy Bob, and watch all his colorful attempts to convince the officers that he was NOT, in fact, "Drunk In Public."
This particular episode featured a young man named Evan, who claimed to be a "child of God," and thereby innocent, despite being drunk, disorderly, disobedient, and downright dumb. (How's THAT for some alliteration?!?)
As Evan is being processed, he goes into a drunken, apologetic soliloquy in which he informs the officers (and, to our delight, the audience) that he was a child actor. Apparently, being a child actor, paired with the fact that you're a child of God, means you can get obliterated on Jack Daniels and harass your friends and neighbors. But the best part of the speech, well...
Let the record reflect that I searched HIGH and LOW for this clip so I could share it with you. For HOURS. I couldn't find it anywhere, and just quoting this guy wasn't funny enough. So please ignore my lack-of-shower, no-makeup self in my very own imitation of Evan's drunk speech...or at least the parts we could understand. (It's all in the name of comedy, after all...)
Anyone else think I sound like a mix between Forrest Gump and Bobby Boucher from The Water Boy?
Naturally, two things happened. 1) We laughed hysterically, and proceeded to quote him over and over for the next 3 days and 2) We immediately went all technological and turned to the internet to find out if his drunken speech had any validity.
Five minutes later, we were on the Internet Movie Database (best website EVER) searching for our favorite friendly drunk, Evan.
And shut my mouth, there he was. Evan Lockwood, IMDb'd. For the world to see. And he has 5 whole entires in his filmography: Fried Green Tomatoes, The Rambling Rose, some appearance in a TV series I've never heard of, and not one but TWO appearances on Inside American Jail. (And if that don't beat all, you can find him on Facebook, too. He has Three Whole Friends.)
Now, under normal circumstances, this would've produced an interesting conversation with my husband. However, we can thank the copious amounts of psueodofed in my bloodstream for the following conversation:
A: (With toothbrush still in mouth) I wonder if you can create your own IMDb profile.
B: OH MY GOD I was just wondering the same thing.
A: Cuz I've only seen Fried Green Tomatoes once, when I was like 10, and I've never seen Ramblin' Rose, so without watching those movies, how could we verify if he was even in them at all?
B: I bet he TOTALLY created that IMDb profile and put himself in those movies.
A: We could TOTALLY do that to YOU!
B: You're thinking about your blog, aren't you?
A: YES! We could put you in the MOVIES!
B: I'd only want to be in stuff that was on before I was born. Like Flipper. Or I Love Lucy.
Well, Brian...Your wish, as they say, is my command.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I Don't Want to Live On the Moon
When I was a child, life was in absolutes.
1) I was the most cherished child on the planet.
2) Summer evenings were slated for running through the sprinkler, helping Dad in the garden, cookouts, impromptu dance recitals, and catching lightning bugs.
3) Sesame Street came on once in the morning, again in the afternoon, and I never missed an episode. Ever.
I really didn't watch a ton of TV as a child. My days were spent living in my imagination. Books were read (and written), elaborate alter-egos were created and lived, and my Barbie dolls had lives straight out of All My Children.
But when it came to Sesame Street, I was avid. Mom didn't have to tell me twice that it was coming on. I was parked in front of our ginormous television, my little girl's brain at attention and ready to learn. I soaked up the alphabet, counting, sharing, even some Spanish.
I belly-laughed at the Martians:
I shouted for the fishies with Bert and Ernie:
And I danced the boog-a-loo to all the fantastic funk songs from the 70s:
(this would make an AWESOME ring tone!!! Must investigate....)
Sesame Street wasn't just a television show for me. I had such a vivid imagination as a child, I was totally submerged in every moment. I remember when Mr. Hooper died, and David took over the store. I remember entire songs, every single lyric, that I haven't heard since I was 5. I remember learning to count to 10 in Spanish with Maria, singing about the people in my neighborhood with Bob, understanding what it's like to feel green thanks to Kermit.
I even had the albums. Mom and Dad would tuck me in after story time every night, kiss me on the forehead, and turn on my "Daydreamin' On a Rainy Day" album (David was always my favorite). I would fall asleep listening to him sing about Safaris, and the Circus, and the Rubber Band Band.
There was one Sesame Street song, on one of my many cassette tapes, that always made me (and my Mom) cry. The so-sweet sentiment combined with the simple lyrics created Sesame Street perfection.
I have always said that when I become a mother, Sesame Street will be a must for my kids. I don't know what's on TV these days, but I am glad to know that the institution of my favorite childhood show is still in tact....just with a bit of a face lift.
Although, I have to say, I'll miss the funk songs the most.
1) I was the most cherished child on the planet.
2) Summer evenings were slated for running through the sprinkler, helping Dad in the garden, cookouts, impromptu dance recitals, and catching lightning bugs.
3) Sesame Street came on once in the morning, again in the afternoon, and I never missed an episode. Ever.
I really didn't watch a ton of TV as a child. My days were spent living in my imagination. Books were read (and written), elaborate alter-egos were created and lived, and my Barbie dolls had lives straight out of All My Children.
But when it came to Sesame Street, I was avid. Mom didn't have to tell me twice that it was coming on. I was parked in front of our ginormous television, my little girl's brain at attention and ready to learn. I soaked up the alphabet, counting, sharing, even some Spanish.
I belly-laughed at the Martians:
I shouted for the fishies with Bert and Ernie:
And I danced the boog-a-loo to all the fantastic funk songs from the 70s:
(this would make an AWESOME ring tone!!! Must investigate....)
Sesame Street wasn't just a television show for me. I had such a vivid imagination as a child, I was totally submerged in every moment. I remember when Mr. Hooper died, and David took over the store. I remember entire songs, every single lyric, that I haven't heard since I was 5. I remember learning to count to 10 in Spanish with Maria, singing about the people in my neighborhood with Bob, understanding what it's like to feel green thanks to Kermit.
I even had the albums. Mom and Dad would tuck me in after story time every night, kiss me on the forehead, and turn on my "Daydreamin' On a Rainy Day" album (David was always my favorite). I would fall asleep listening to him sing about Safaris, and the Circus, and the Rubber Band Band.
There was one Sesame Street song, on one of my many cassette tapes, that always made me (and my Mom) cry. The so-sweet sentiment combined with the simple lyrics created Sesame Street perfection.
I have always said that when I become a mother, Sesame Street will be a must for my kids. I don't know what's on TV these days, but I am glad to know that the institution of my favorite childhood show is still in tact....just with a bit of a face lift.
Although, I have to say, I'll miss the funk songs the most.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Brian's Confession and a Heart-Stopping Freak Out Moment
Now that the smoke has cleared, the votes have all been tallied, and the score officially revealed, Brian and I were able to have a long, adult conversation about my Donnie Wahlberg obsession.
Then, finally, after much prodding (and pouting), he made his confession on film, for the world to see.
And so, my occasional Donnie Wahlberg blogs (OMG did you see him dance last night on Dancing with the Stars?) are safe. For now.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now, readers, I'm relying on you to tell me the truth here. What do you see in this picture:
Nothing? Really? Ok, how about THIS one:
Ok, have you been hanging around with my husband??? Do I need to draw a picture? How's this:
THOSE HAIRS ON MY HEAD ARE GREY!!!!!!!!!!!
*deep breath*
A few days ago, I swear to you, I found a grey hair. Before I thought to myself, "Gee, I should take a picture or show my husband," I plucked that sucker right outta there in a moment of sheer panic.
Once my heart rate slowed and my eyes stopped bugging out of my head, I reasoned, "Surely, it must have been a fluke."
As in, this particular grey hair, who's life I'd just brutally ended, had MEANT to grow on Old Mother Hubbard's head, and just took a wrong turn and ended up on mine.
Then, this morning, as I was putting on my eyeliner, I saw ANOTHER one. And it brought friends. So, I'm showing you this photographic evidence so I can ask you this question. Is this assumption of mine correct?
I always thought I'd age gracefully. Now I'm not so sure.
A: See, I really DO love you more than Donnie Wahlberg.
B: Nu-unh.
A: Yes huh!
B: Nu-UNH!
A: Yes HUH! Crazy uber-jealous man!
B: So's your face.
Ok, that wasn't the adult part of the conversation. This was:
B: I'm really not that jealous of him. I think it's funny.
A: Really?
B: Really. In fact....
...and at this point he said something so profound, I dove for my Droid and immediately asked him to repeat himself on camera.
At first, all I got was sarcasm (my husband's middle name):
Then, finally, after much prodding (and pouting), he made his confession on film, for the world to see.
And so, my occasional Donnie Wahlberg blogs (OMG did you see him dance last night on Dancing with the Stars?) are safe. For now.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now, readers, I'm relying on you to tell me the truth here. What do you see in this picture:
Nothing? Really? Ok, how about THIS one:
Ok, have you been hanging around with my husband??? Do I need to draw a picture? How's this:
THOSE HAIRS ON MY HEAD ARE GREY!!!!!!!!!!!
*deep breath*
A few days ago, I swear to you, I found a grey hair. Before I thought to myself, "Gee, I should take a picture or show my husband," I plucked that sucker right outta there in a moment of sheer panic.
Once my heart rate slowed and my eyes stopped bugging out of my head, I reasoned, "Surely, it must have been a fluke."
As in, this particular grey hair, who's life I'd just brutally ended, had MEANT to grow on Old Mother Hubbard's head, and just took a wrong turn and ended up on mine.
Then, this morning, as I was putting on my eyeliner, I saw ANOTHER one. And it brought friends. So, I'm showing you this photographic evidence so I can ask you this question. Is this assumption of mine correct?
I always thought I'd age gracefully. Now I'm not so sure.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Spending Hours in Front of a Mirror Doesn't Make Me Vain
It makes me determined.
Some of you may remember that, recently, I posted a blog confessing my frustration at being unable to move my eyebrows independently of each other.
Well, readers, I'm proud to say that I've been practicing hard, and I've made some progress!!! And so, although this will be a short post today, I'm including a video of my unruly brows, for your viewing pleasure.
And people said it couldn't be done. Bah!
Some of you may remember that, recently, I posted a blog confessing my frustration at being unable to move my eyebrows independently of each other.
Well, readers, I'm proud to say that I've been practicing hard, and I've made some progress!!! And so, although this will be a short post today, I'm including a video of my unruly brows, for your viewing pleasure.
And people said it couldn't be done. Bah!
Monday, March 28, 2011
A Reenactment, A Dramatic Story, and a Guest Post
For those readers who checked in on me over the weekend, I thank you. Truly, I am fine, and as you can see, AbbyGabs is back up and running.
For those who didn't email, call, or send fruit baskets, let me just say that Saturday was, to this date, the most traumatic day for me as a blog author, ever.
I came to my computer, preparing to write a rather genius blog (to come Wednesday) and found, to my absolute horror, that AbbyGabs was nowhere to be found.
It went something like this:
(If you can't see the video, go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9reJhCZw7QQ)
Well, at least that's what happened at first. I'll spare you the shouting, cursing, fist-shaking, nervous breakdown, etc. Oh, and the close-up of me crying, reminiscent of the infamous Blair Witch Project scene.
As you probably know, while AbbyGabs is its own domain, it is powered through Blogger....which is powered through Google. (You may already see where this is going, so feel free to shake your head in consternation as I continue this story.)
When I noticed there was a problem with my site, I immediately went looking for help from the pros. There is no way to contact Google, or Blogger, directly (which took me an hour to find out) so I headed for the help forums. I noticed there were a few similar complaints on the forum, so I checked in with them first. They weren't receiving much help from said "HELP" forum, so we started bantering back and forth, trying to troubleshoot our own problem.
I also posted a "HELP ME BEFORE I HAVE A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN" thread for my own humble little blog.
An hour in, we still hadn't heard from any of the moderators. Meanwhile, more and more people were creeping in with the same issue.
That issue was this: when we went to our domains, using any browser available to man, we received the message that "www.thatwebsite.com" cannot be found. Cache copies were available, but we couldn't open the domains.
Consequently, I couldn't open their domains and they couldn't open mine.
However, friends and family and my therapist all said my blog was perfectly visible to them.
HUH?
So....back to the forums. At approximately 11 am (2 hours, 2 very large cups of coffee, and a handful of diazepams later....)(just kidding) I finally had a response from a moderator, who we'll call Blogger Nazi for the purposes of this post.
Was the response from Blogger Nazi helpful, kind, or in anyway relevant?
No.
He said, "If you want my help, please remove any posts from this forum that are unnecessary, confusing, or inflammatory."
That left me incensed. And baffled, considering my responses in other threads were basically, "Me, too!" and "Hey, what a coincidence!" and "I don't think there's a way to contact Google directly."
But, being desperate for help, I complied withMr. Douchebag's Blogger Nazi's request.
Then, for the next 2 hours, he decided to dump link after link after link to his "Here's How To Fix Your Blog" blog, filled with techno-speak that you need a degree to understand. He kept asking me the same questions over and over and over again, asking for clarifications, for me to be "specific" and "less emotional" in my responses. He kept insisting that my blog wasn't down, because he could see it, and that it was obviously an error in my part since clearly, I'm a newbie and an idiot and I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Until I sent him about 15 links to other bloggers who were having the same problem.
That shut him up, and quick.
When the mob arrived brandishing pitch forks and lit torches, Blogger Nazi finally compiled a list of complaints and turned them in to Blogger.
Who turned them in to Google.
Who turned them in to GoDaddy.com.
And THEN we found out that, in fact, it wasn't an isolated incident, but it was an issue with GoDaddy all along. Apparently, there was a large DDOS attack in two of their data centers.
I have no idea what a DDOS attack is...sounds like something from World of Warcraft to me.
At any rate, GoDaddy cleaned up all the dragons and beasties, and now my site is back up and running.
No thanks toCaptain Jerkface Blogger Nazi.
Well, sort of thanks to him, but he could've just lodged a complaint without being so mean. He called my blog superfluous. SUPERFLUOUS. Can you believe that???
I should send my orc pals after him.
Anyway, during all the chaos, I got a lot of help and support...and even got an amazing offer to do a guest post for my friend, Tricia, at her blog, The Katnip Lounge! She was a fan of The FatKat Kronicles, and I've gotten a lot of requests to bring Scoot and his pals back....so, I'm kicking off my soon-to-launch weekly FatKat comic strip over at the Lounge today! So, head on over to The Katnip Lounge to read my very first Guest Post!! It will make me forget all about Saturday's debacle.
Almost....
For those who didn't email, call, or send fruit baskets, let me just say that Saturday was, to this date, the most traumatic day for me as a blog author, ever.
I came to my computer, preparing to write a rather genius blog (to come Wednesday) and found, to my absolute horror, that AbbyGabs was nowhere to be found.
It went something like this:
(If you can't see the video, go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9reJhCZw7QQ)
Well, at least that's what happened at first. I'll spare you the shouting, cursing, fist-shaking, nervous breakdown, etc. Oh, and the close-up of me crying, reminiscent of the infamous Blair Witch Project scene.
As you probably know, while AbbyGabs is its own domain, it is powered through Blogger....which is powered through Google. (You may already see where this is going, so feel free to shake your head in consternation as I continue this story.)
When I noticed there was a problem with my site, I immediately went looking for help from the pros. There is no way to contact Google, or Blogger, directly (which took me an hour to find out) so I headed for the help forums. I noticed there were a few similar complaints on the forum, so I checked in with them first. They weren't receiving much help from said "HELP" forum, so we started bantering back and forth, trying to troubleshoot our own problem.
I also posted a "HELP ME BEFORE I HAVE A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN" thread for my own humble little blog.
An hour in, we still hadn't heard from any of the moderators. Meanwhile, more and more people were creeping in with the same issue.
That issue was this: when we went to our domains, using any browser available to man, we received the message that "www.thatwebsite.com" cannot be found. Cache copies were available, but we couldn't open the domains.
Consequently, I couldn't open their domains and they couldn't open mine.
However, friends and family and my therapist all said my blog was perfectly visible to them.
HUH?
So....back to the forums. At approximately 11 am (2 hours, 2 very large cups of coffee, and a handful of diazepams later....)(just kidding) I finally had a response from a moderator, who we'll call Blogger Nazi for the purposes of this post.
Was the response from Blogger Nazi helpful, kind, or in anyway relevant?
No.
He said, "If you want my help, please remove any posts from this forum that are unnecessary, confusing, or inflammatory."
That left me incensed. And baffled, considering my responses in other threads were basically, "Me, too!" and "Hey, what a coincidence!" and "I don't think there's a way to contact Google directly."
But, being desperate for help, I complied with
Then, for the next 2 hours, he decided to dump link after link after link to his "Here's How To Fix Your Blog" blog, filled with techno-speak that you need a degree to understand. He kept asking me the same questions over and over and over again, asking for clarifications, for me to be "specific" and "less emotional" in my responses. He kept insisting that my blog wasn't down, because he could see it, and that it was obviously an error in my part since clearly, I'm a newbie and an idiot and I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Until I sent him about 15 links to other bloggers who were having the same problem.
That shut him up, and quick.
When the mob arrived brandishing pitch forks and lit torches, Blogger Nazi finally compiled a list of complaints and turned them in to Blogger.
Who turned them in to Google.
Who turned them in to GoDaddy.com.
And THEN we found out that, in fact, it wasn't an isolated incident, but it was an issue with GoDaddy all along. Apparently, there was a large DDOS attack in two of their data centers.
I have no idea what a DDOS attack is...sounds like something from World of Warcraft to me.
 |
| Aww...cute little orcs, aren't they? |
At any rate, GoDaddy cleaned up all the dragons and beasties, and now my site is back up and running.
No thanks to
Well, sort of thanks to him, but he could've just lodged a complaint without being so mean. He called my blog superfluous. SUPERFLUOUS. Can you believe that???
I should send my orc pals after him.
Anyway, during all the chaos, I got a lot of help and support...and even got an amazing offer to do a guest post for my friend, Tricia, at her blog, The Katnip Lounge! She was a fan of The FatKat Kronicles, and I've gotten a lot of requests to bring Scoot and his pals back....so, I'm kicking off my soon-to-launch weekly FatKat comic strip over at the Lounge today! So, head on over to The Katnip Lounge to read my very first Guest Post!! It will make me forget all about Saturday's debacle.
Almost....
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