... or can there? I'm assuming that's the case, although I guess maybe not. But let's assume that yes, there can be only one.
Look guys, I was serious ... I really am going to win a blog design from Digitally Essential tomorrow.
So why are y'all so persistent? I mean, I told you and all. Yet the entries keep coming like lemmings off a cliff. Just since my last notice on the subject, these people:
The Purling Prude
Diary of a Tired Mom
San Francisco Liberal
Scooter McGavin's 9th Green
Silly Bahraini Girl
... have entered the contest that I'm going to win.
How many hungry refugee children could they have fed? How many socks could they have darned? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a ... um, belay that last. How many shocking exposes could they have written? But noooooo, they just wanted to waste time unsuccessfully trying to horn in on my free blog design gravy train. I mean, I'm just saying ...
Well, we'll show them. Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna sit here and stare at this blog entry and not click on those ever-so-convenient links above. Yep, we're just gonna sit here on the Group W bench, not clicking ... wait for it to come around on the guitar again ... hey, easy on the mouse button there, Tex ... we are not going to avail ourselves of the opportunity to broaden our horizons by visiting those other sites. We're not gonna do it ... not gonna ...
Okay, are we finished not clicking on those links (which, I may have forgotten to mention, would have conveniently opened in a new browser window or tab if you had clicked them, which I'm absolutely certain you didn't) yet? Good. Now we're going to very strenuously not click on any links which might lead us to the sites of Leslie or Jen of Digitally Essential. Leave them alone, y'hear? They're busy thinking about how they're going to remake my blog. Not yours. Mine. So whatever you do, don't go clicking or anything. Just don't do it. You'll go blind and grow hair on your palms.
And don't even think about writing a haiku (for those of you not in the know, that's a poem with three lines -- five syllables on the first line, seven on the second, five again on the third -- the best ones are about beer) and entering it into the contest according to the rules as conveniently summarized by The Weiner Dog, or anything like that. Don't even let that thought lazily contemplate the possibility of considering the notion of crossing your mind.
All right, I think we're done here. I hope you learned something about humility and self-restraint. And modesty. Yeah, modesty. That's an important one.
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