Helpful Tips For When You're Blogging for One

What with that big orangey, fiery thing suddenly looming up there in the sky, and leafy polleny things popping up from the ground, this has served as the annual Spring Distraction of Weeding, Sunning and Sneezing, and blog buddies report traffic has taken a dip.

But never fear! Cabbages is here!-- to help bloggers with less traffic than a One-Horse Town continue to find the fun in blogging! How? With our innovative and tasty recipes for delightful self-delusion! Why not try one today?:

• Pretend you're actually addressing thousands per day, and the reason you don't have any traffic or comments is simply because there are so many people visiting at once the technology just can't process the data properly.

• Post and respond to spam commenters as if their non-sequiturs about male enhancement, nude photos, and the forum you don't actually have but which they're thanking you so politely for are actually relevant to your post. Send each of them a friendship e-card

• Comment in your own comment section, as you, responding to yourself. You will never be lonely. If you start becoming surprised at the answers, however: stop.

• This is a great time for experimentation! So try new blogging techniques no one has attempted yet. Like--since short posts are increasingly popular-- try posting just one or two words per blog entry and watch your post count triple in an instant! You may begin a whole new trend in blogging.

• See how many times you can use the word "meow" in a post before any of your friends become concerned. (Note: not applicable if your blog is related to cats... or you happen to be one.)
  

• Create a series of posts indicating your blog has been kidnapped and asking for ransom demands. Use different fonts and type partially in caps for true believability.
  

• Use this opportunity to showcase talents you might otherwise have hesitated in sharing online. Like scans of those Glamour Shots you had taken, or videos of that time you and your buddies did Karaoke. (C'mon, deep down you know your rendition of "Mandy" is a show-stopper... Why keep all of that audio gorgeousness to yourself? Your reader(s) deserve it)

Now, these tips were designed to just get you started. Here at Cabbages, we recognize there's a whole world out there of new ways to combat the crickets you hear in blogging lulls.

Want to share one of your own techniques? Just drop us a comment... or, if you've comfortably adjusted to your own company, feel free to comment to yourself in the comments field. We're always glad to hear from you... And you, too.

The BlogCatalog Appreciation Day Barbecue

In the list of obscure holidays, "BlogCatalog Appreciation Day" has to be up there as among the most obscure. You know, somewhere along with "Left-Handed Pitchers' Day", "Let's All Eat Cheese Day" and "Take Your Marmot to Work Day."

But as a blogger, BlogCatalog-- its blog directory and discussion boards-- has actually done quite a lot for me for almost two years now. So it seemed only appropriate-- now that it's getting its own day and all -- to spread the word about why I've appreciated it.

• It's a place you can carry on a discussion with a panda, an incontinent aardvark, a championship race horse, assorted monkeys, a girl with a bra on her head, a ninja, a baby, a deceased rooster, and a gaggle of cartoon characters, all at the same time, and not actually be institutionalized.
  

• Cabbages was born of a BlogCatalog discussion thread, where a brainstorming moment aloud turned from "Why?" into "Why not?" Also, the fact that one of the people I had the discussion with is a lawyer, and thereby is skilled at the Jedi Mind Trick.

• BlogCatalog meant I was able to go from pretending to write for people reading, to people actually reading.

• When I screw up something on my blog, chances are someone else has screwed that up on their blog first-- and a third person will know how to fix it.

• On 08/08/08, when fans of numerology were predicting the "End of the World As We Know It," we felt just as fine as Michael Stipe-- because we'd already gotten the scoop on the Lack of World Ending in India from a sarcastic pink teddybear, and the dish on the England situation from a mad British doodler. All within moments.

• I learned through the discussion boards that many, many of us have Clown Fear. And I even got to discuss it with a guy who was a professional clown. This is cheap therapy.

• I now know more invisible people than I do real ones. And, again, my friends actually aren't considering institutionalizing me... Well, not for that, anyway.

• I learn about all the latest social media applications I'm never going to use-- but at least I know why I don't want to use them.

So these are just a few reasons I've enjoyed hanging out at BlogCatalog. And also the fact that I've met many, many of you good folks there.

But in case you're a blogger-type-person and you haven't yet joined BC, you might want to consider it, and tap into all the merriment, marketing, mayhem, and other marvelous things that may or may not start with the letter "m."

And otherwise, here's some virtual grilled meat or veggies of your choice. Potato chips-- crisps for my British friends-- are over there... Tim Horton's donuts for my Canadian chums.... Mani, just because it's Belgian beer, doesn't mean you get to drink it all. Daniel's bringing the pizza. Everyone's welcome. Grab a plate and heap it high.

We expect the table-top dancing to start at noon. So put on your dancin' shoes.

----------------------------------------------
If you enjoy this blog, vote for Of Cabbages and Kings posts over at Humor-blogs.com. Because we all know that the RSS feed won't have picked up THIS post for another day.

In Honor of DrowseyMonkey's Bloggiversary

Today is DrowseyMonkey's first bloggiversary, and Olga the Traveling Bra has asked that all of Drowsey's friends share why we love Drowsey in a bit of an "online bloggy birthday extravaganza" for her.

Well, I wasn't going to miss an opportunity like this-- not for someone who has been as nice to me as Drowsey has. The trick was to come up with just the right thing to honor her special day. I mean, there are so many ways to go with it.

I thought I could produce a DrowseyMonkey Tribute Album. But I couldn't afford to hire her favorite singers like Carol King or James Taylor to do the numbers. And Stevie Ray Vaughn, well, he's kinda deceased. So I looked to another fave of hers, Earth Wind and Fire. Turns out, I could afford Earth, but Wind and Fire priced themselves way out of the market.

So I asked the guy who sings randomly on the street corner near my work if he was available. He's the one who pushes around an empty dollbaby carriage and has a teddybear strapped to his upper thigh with a bungee cord... He's got a good voice.

But, it seems he's booked on street corners now through November, and he just can't fit it into his schedule. The teddybear was available, he said, but I didn't feel comfortable with the bear's repertoire. It just didn't say "Drowsey" to me.

So that kiboshed that idea.

Then I thought, I could kidnap her mostest favoritest actor in the world, Vincent D'Onofrio, and send him to her by the post...


But having to spend time bailing me out of an American prison for stalking, kidnapping and assault charges on a celebrity, probably isn't on her list of "Things to To On My First Bloggy Birthday."

Fair enough.

So instead, I will simply tell you why I've become online friends with Drowsey.

Well, Drowsey and I have a lot in common. See our avatars? Here's Drowsey...

Here's me...


Notice Drowsey has a big ol' doll glued to her face, while I'm holding a Jane Austen bobblehead. It's our similar blog marketing tactics and desire to hide behind childish plastic things in public that got us merrily chatting in the first place.

Secondly, Drowsey and I have both been hit in the head with birds. Real birds. Actual-and-for-true flying feathered friends. Not just somebody flipping us off for being wise-guys. No, we both know the power and pain of a flying fowl against the cranial area. So, I think this is an important bond in online friendship.

Thirdly, she has made me laugh really hard, and out loud, to myself. On Twitter, chatting with her-- even with a restricted number of characters per quip-- well, it's a bit like sitting in a kitchen over tea (or, who am I kidding? margaritas) with old friends.

And on her blog, whether she's talking about her D'Onofrio fetish, her widget addiction, her willful old car, how her arms don't face the same direction everyone else's does, or humorous tales of things that go bump (or in this case "eo") in the night, well, it's always a joy to read.

So, Happy Bloggiversary, Drowsey! It's a pleasure to know you. Now go get yourself some Tim Horton's and enjoy that obscure Canadian holiday weekend you were telling us about.

And, remember, watch out for those birds.

--------------------------------------------
Vote for this post at Humor-blogs. Or, you know, just go see Drowsey and wish her a happy bloggiversary... a bloggy birthday... feliz blogidad... whatever...

Obsessive-Compulsive Blogging Disorder and its Ramifications

Obsessive-Compulsive Blogging Disorder: where every altercation, interaction, poetic moment, amusing sign, epiphany, and witty observation must be documented in blog and/or photo format and shared with the online world.

Its symptoms are most obvious when the sufferer feels compelled to take a photograph of, say, a menu. Or a flag pole. Or the back of somebody's head. This eccentric behavior is typically waved away by the sufferer as incidental to the more important Big Picture idea, while bystanders remain befuddled by the individual's mysterious and seemingly random actions.

--------------------

Okay, so fess up-- how many of us here suffer from this? Or not "suffer," per se... Because as far as I know, the only suffering that actually goes on is that of my poor, dear friends. Who have to wait while I grab a giant stack of travel brochures because I got a laugh out of the The World's Largest Ball of Twine attraction...

Or while I spent time sifting through a pile of Jell-O ads from 1935...

Or they're asked to take photos out the window of my car while I drive really, really slowly past a road sign... Or a bridge... Or a pothole.... Or a guy with a mullet.... Or roadkill...

Or, well, you get the drift.

So extreme is my love of blogging, and my desire to gather the very best in the funny for my readers, that I've begun taking my camera with me everywhere I go. I was seeing things that made me laugh and lo!-- no camera. So now I am better prepared.

This also means that while I drive to work, I may very well draw unnecessary attention. I mean, I'm not sure, but I might have made the guy in the truck in front of me just a teensy bit paranoid when I began taking these pics on my commute yesterday.


It wasn't intended to be of my fellow driver and his vehicle, though I can see where that might have appeared the case. I was interested in one of those 11' 6" road signs for my Truck-Eating Bridge post. Only how could he know that on a dark, rainy morning, when a flash is going off in his rearview mirror?

Why, he couldn't! He likely believes I was validating his license plate to report a traffic violation. Or I fell in love with his nifty pick-up truck, being unduly influenced by too many episodes of Top Gear. Or I have never seen a more handsome back of a man's head. I mean, dig that ear!

Now, that's one good-lookin' ear.

For my thrifting blog, I have a little vintage car-shaped planter, which has a little vintage doll that sits in it, and acts a bit like the Travelocity Roaming Gnome or Olga The Travelling Bra. It appears at various cool new antiquing locations, and is my symbol of Road Tripping.


This is fine-- my readers recognize it right away-- only my readers also aren't random people on the street... People on the street who see me in front of an antique mall with my camera and a small pottery Model T with a dolly in it enjoying an elaborate photo shoot. I have noticed passersby watch in eye-brow-raised curiosity, as I try to hold this thing aloft in front of the mall sign AND take a steady picture.

This sort of shot requires time and patience. Meaning, of course, MORE people see me than I would perhaps prefer.

I am considering putting out a sign that reads: "Back Off, I'm a Blogger." Or "Bizarre and Blogging since 2006."

Unfortunately, I think only a small proportion of the folks would know what that meant.

So tell me, my blogging buddies-- do you think you have Obsessive-Compulsive Blogging Disorder?

Are you ever in the middle of a nice dinner out and think, "Hm-- I should blog about how one peanut could kill me. Let me take a picture of my spouse's plate of Kung Pao Chicken"?

Have you ever been caught doing something for your blog which isn't easily explained?

Obsessive-Compulsive Blogging Disorder affects one in seven. If it isn't the seven people you just tagged in your latest meme, well, all I'm sayin' is, don't be surprised if that one in seven is you.

Intervention sessions will run every Thursday after Emoticonics Anonymous.

----------------------------------------------
Vote for this post at Humor-blogs, where the strange and unusual is not only accepted-- it's mandatory.

Shutterbug Pop and the Runaway Train

I've been thinking of getting a video camera.

Of course, knowing me, I will likely end up spending less time using it to capture meaningful holiday moments and unique historical attractions-- and more time figuring out how to do stop-animation film of, say, Marshmallow Peeps staging an Easter-time jailbreak or something.

But to each his own.

The thought of the video camera, however, brought back memories of the last real family trip my parents and I took together-- a trip to Disney, in my 17th summer...

And how the Frontierland roller coaster made a, er, lasting impression on my Pop.

I believe I mentioned last week that during the 80s, my father had a very high-tech video camera. Which meant it was roughly the size of a Victorian steamer trunk for a six-month voyage. And this being my last trip with the folks before permanently flying the nest, the Pop was determined to document ALL the memories using this fine example of technology.

So, as we passed through Frontierland, and waited in line for the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride, my father decided that it would be pretty cool to film being on the ride.

Now, I don't know if you're familiar with this ride or not, but it's styled like a runaway train, rolling through jagged Old West mountains and dry desert terrain. And is it fast! Many a set of Mickey Mouse ears-- and a zippity-do-da-dinner-- has been a casualty of this ride.

Having explored this ride previously on a band trip, I was well aware of this fact. But see here's the thing:

My dad is a very intelligent man, but he is not what you'd call "A Listener." I've learned over the years that I have about a five-word limit on my part of any conversation before he's already delving into more important things.

It's sorta like using Twitter. I know I'd better get what I have to say out in the allotted characters or it's all a no-go.

(Now I think about it, I probably became a writer so I could complete full sentences.)

Anyway, so when the Pop was explaining his plan for the Best Family Video Ever, I was getting out phrases like...

"But Pop, this is fast and--"

"Really fast, Pop! I don't think--"

"The curves, you see, are quite--"

"It winds, Pop, centripetal force, and--"


No dice. The five-word limit was still in place.

So as we strapped ourselves into the car-- Dad in the center with the electronic steamer trunk hoisted onto his shoulder-- well, I admit, I felt a certain smug anticipation. I mean, I know why I didn't stop him, but why no one else gave it a shot, I really can't say.

Or why he didn't pay attention to the signs saying "Secure Your Belongings, This is a Super-fast Ride and YOU, Sir, Still Seem to be Holding Very Expensive Recording Equipment."

Some footage apparently is worth the risk.

So the ride began at a nice enough pace. We chugged up the hill, the Pop smiling benevolently at Mom and me with the glow of a cameraman destined for home movie greatness.

And then we got to the top and Pop's whole perspective on the matter shifted.

So did the video camera.

As we roared around the turn-- the sounds of Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath seemed to come to my ears-- and the camera had decided it would prefer to bow to the forces of physics over the force of one very determined tourist from New Jersey.

It took a feat of astounding strength for my father to even retain his grip on the machine-- so fast were we clattering over the rails, around horseshoe bends, and s-curves, with animatronic buzzards fluttering in wait.

The Pop managed through sheer will alone to force the camera into a spot of relative stability back down into the car, onto his leg. The ride, two thrilling minutes for some-- two terrifying minutes of destruction and potential lawsuits for another-- slowed at the station, the engine letting out a steamy sigh of relief.

My father did, too. We exited and Pop rose, only to notice his upper thigh had taken on a brand new feature...

A Victorian steamer trunk-sized, camera-shaped bruise.

I used my five word allotment:

"Told you it was fast."

Pop didn't find it nearly as funny as I did.

--------------------------------------------------
Vote for this post at Humor-Blogs.

How William Shatner Ruined Road Safety

In this day and age of $4.00 gas and emissions concerns, carpooling is good for the environment, AND the wallet. But, Friends of Cabbages, I urge you to think long and hard about choosing the right carpool companions. And this is why.

At my previous job, the office was roughly a 45 minute commute during weekday traffic, and one of the guys in my department-- we'll call him "The Knave"-- he lived not-so-far from me, and he didn't have a car. So rather than him taking two buses and spending three hours each day just getting to work, we carpooled. He paid for some of the gas.

Now the Knave, who I actually work with at my current job as well, is a good guy-- funny and self-aware. My friendship with him runs toward the similar-sense-of-humor-only-he-likes-to-test-me-occasionally dynamic. There's some Little Brother Instinct that bubbles up occasionally in him, and when his actual siblings are not available, it extends to ME. Most of the time, I'm prepared for this...

But sometimes I am poorly-caffeinated and driving.

Like the day he decided to introduce me to William Shatner singing "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

Were you aware William Shatner had a brief singing career?... If you can call the enthusiastic spoken word crescendos and dénouements of the former Captain James T. Kirk "singing"... yes, in fact, he did! You can enjoy one hysterical video example of his stylings by clicking here.

At the time, I was not aware of this. And while manning my Saturn one morning, I really didn't have a proper handle on what was about to ensue...

Meaning, I didn't slap the Knave's hands and fling the disk from his grasp when he started messing with my CD player.

Imagine: it's early morning. The sun is just creeping over the Western Pennsylvania Appalachians, a mist hanging heavy along the roadway and the coffee still steaming in the travel mug in the cup holder...

I am thinking about the work day ahead of me... copy to write, projects to wind up...

And then comes Mr. Shatner bursting from the audio system shouting at a million decibels, in iambic pentameter:

...The GIRL with ka-LEI-do-scope EYESSSSS!!!

And that's when I ran off the road.

So, if you plan to carpool, think about who you choose to ride with. Do not permit them access to your sound system, no matter how they beg, or how groggy you may be.

Most of all, just say "no" to all things Shatner while operating heavy machinery. It is for your safety, as well as the safety of your fellow drivers. Drive carefully-- and Shatner-free.

Thank you.

----------------------------------------------------
Picture yourself, in a boat, on a river, using your portable laptop to vote for this post over at Humor-blogs. :)

My Super-Nerd Sense is Tingling

There's this store in our local mall that's like my entire childhood wrapped into a room-- Minus the being beat up on the playground, the noisy tan corduroys and the harvest colors, of course.

In this mecca of retro media, Star Wars figures wield the Force....

The Heat Miser and Snow Miser strut their stuff...

The Superfriends chat in stilted overly-obvious discussions...

And The Tick struggles to break through nigh-invulnerable packaging.

Anything and everything you can imagine from cartoons and campy films over the years, and this store seems to have it.

The place calls to my inner-nerd every time I venture there. And my inner-nerd actually gets out quite a bit.

I mean, okay, I still have some of my old comic books. And my collection of Johnny Depp-related action figures seems to be overtaking the surface of one filing cabinet...

I think fondly of the original Star Wars, I met b-movie actor Bruce Campbell once (that's a whole other story), and I seem to have developed an inexplicable crush on Dr. Who.

So while my inner dork does pretty much run the joint, I realized, it still might not be enough.

"What?" you're wondering. "How can it not be enough?-- There's the Dr. Who thing." Well, see... This is what happened.

As I was strolling around this collectibles store, the cashier was having an in-depth discussion with two friends who'd stopped by. It was lengthy, passionate and loud. And the conversation seemed to run like this:

Cashier: Well, Episode One largely sucked because it needed a further integration of Darth Maul...

Friends: Mummmm... yeah.

Cashier: That character needed to be pulled more thoroughly throughout that trilogy for it to be worthy of the build up. And so the only scenes that didn't suck were the battle at 15:07 minutes into the film between Darth Maul and Zaphod Beeblebrox where he used the Klingon nunchucks, and then the part at 47:12 where the Ferengi brought in the AT-AT and...

Okay, okay, I know Darth Maul never did fight Zaphod Beeblebrox. (Zaphod would have totally lost his head in that sort of fight. Well, at least ONE of his heads...) And I know the Ferengi and Klingons have nothing to do with Star Wars... And...

Suffice it to say, I'm aware. Remember: dork here.

But on and on this dissection went, with scene after scene bucketed into "sucked," and "didn't suck" with a sort of detailed examination worthy of a doctoral thesis.

And I didn't understand half of it.

I mean, I watched Star Wars Episode One once. Mostly what I got out of it was that, apparently, when you're a Queen faced with a choice between a rather dishy Ewan MacGregor and an annoying kid half your age for your love interest, you choose the annoying kid.

And that's when they lost me.

Anything, beyond that, and I can't say I remember it. I remember something vaguely about a Jamaican lizard-rabbit. And drag-racing, space-style. But that's about it.

So, I think I'm going to have to work on my general nerdishness. None of this halvsies stuff for me. I mean, I was the one who hadn't realized that "Darth" was a title and wasn't just the guy's first name...

"Hi, I'm Darth. Darth Vader?... This is my brother Zek."

See? Hopeless!

------------------------------------------------------
The Force is always with Humor-blogs.

Sheardon and Woolworth Celebrate Doodle Week

Welcome to "Animal Doodle Day" here at Of Cabbages and Kings, as "Doodle Week" sweeps the blogosphere!..

Okay, well, maybe not the WHOLE blogosphere. More like a side road... Maybe a dingy alley. (And boy, can that alley USE some sweeping, too-- just LOOK at those cigarette butts and wads of used chewing gum!)

Er-- but still-- nifty bloggers all! Go check 'em out.:)

Anyway, my friendly neighborhood comic strip sheep-- Shearadon and Woolworth-- have volunteered to join us today for a very special guest appearance. Shearadon NEVER misses an opportunity for the spotlight. My gawd, you should just HEAR him bleating out Karaoke down at The Meadow! He earns points for pluck and enthusiasm, bless his woolly noggin, but his rendition of Cake's "Sheep Go to Heaven, Goats Go to Hell" is enough to make your ears bleed.

Anyway, when last we left our fleecy heroes, Shearadon (the one in the loud Aloha shirt) had announced to brother sheep Woolworth (with the tie and John Lennon glasses) that he had started a blog, and he APPEARED to have some very interesting motivators for doing so. (You can click here to view that strip.)...

And now-- on, with part two!




Oh, before I go, Shearadon has been just BEGGING me to give him a link to his blog. To be honest, I'm fairly picky about who I link to, and I admit, I have some definite reservations about this. Also, I told him, I don't think my current readership really hits the Sheep-American demographic. But as a professional courtesy to him and also because he threatened to quit my comic strip, you can check out his blog by clicking here.

Don't say I didn't warn you! (There, Shearadon-- there you go. Now get off my back about it.)

Special thanks to Claire of A Little Piece of Me for getting us all doodling again.


--------------------------------------

Shearadon's been trying to hack into Humor-blogs. He really wants into their top 50.