What a day, what a day

Here’s the redesign I never talked about. When I started this thing I used a template with the idea that at some point I’d get around to adding my own flair. So here it is. There are still a couple things I want to change but for the most part it’s done.

Speaking of how lame the template was. I’m pretty sure Her Royal Dooceness was here yesterday. My reasons are three fold. 1) I sent her an email yesterday telling her how amazing and funny she is and how hot her husband is. 2) My site statistics say that someone from Salt Lake City found their way over here yesterday. 3) My site stats also say that person from SLC browsed this site with Safari. I know that woman has a Mac.

I love and absolutely hate that she was here. That template was fugly and half-assed while Dooce‘s site is awesome and totally professional. Honestly, I never thought she would bother coming here, otherwise I would have done the redesign BEFORE I sent that email pouring my heart out. I can see her reading it and laughing, she may have also told Jon that I thought he was hot. They probably giggled with superiority and had porn star sex. I’m %99 sure she was here and I’m completely embarassed. First off, can we just visualize that template again? How cheesy and graphic design school was it? Very. And secondly, yesterdays post was barely a step above stream of consciousness blathering. Reading someones stream of consciousness is dangerously close to reading about their dreams and everyone hates that. I can tell that she didn’t find it interesting either because I know she only read that one page, and probably not the whole thing either. If she thought I was as amusing as I think I am she would have read more than one page. At first, my inner optimist said she probably found it interesting but she HAS A CHILD and can’t be expected to waste her time here. My inner optimist assured me she book marked it and will come back when she has time. Then my inner logician punched the optimist and made it fetch a beer. The logician told me that Dooce knows she wasted her time and hates me. Then I cried.

Now that I’m living in its aftermath I wish I could rewrite that email. Some lowlights include me using various forms of the word inspirational, calling her funny and talented, describing her writing as fresh and then I started rambling about how I in no way meant to offend Mormons. Not to get all text message-y but WTF?! I call do over! Can’t we just pretend I sent cheesy fanmail today instead of yesterday? At least then there would be a decent site waiting for her. At least then I would have HAD A CHANCE! Do over Dooce, PLEASE.

I briefly considered writing her another email to tell her how I felt and how much cooler I made the site. Thankfully I decided against it. Because how sad would that be? Me all whiny and needy and her all cool yet slightly confused. She’d start considering me unstable and possibly a threat then blacklist my IP address. That’s not what I want to happen, because it’s not true. I swear.

I feel like my freshman crush caught me dancing in my underwear and now he won’t even look at me, let alone flirt awkwardly. Can’t we just flirt a little? Ok, I understand. I had no idea she would take the time to type themillionizer.com (all those letters!) in her browser bar, I didn’t even think she would read the email. Dooce, come back, I have a cool wifebeater graphic now!

Yes, all those links are a desperate plea for a second chance.