Musings on a Friday Morning

It's summer.  It's a Friday morning.  My radio is turned to one of my guilty pleasure radio shows, AT40 with Ryan Seacrest.  And quite a lot of random musements (if it wasn't a word before, it is now) are drifting through my brain, similar to float and jetsam bobbing around a quiet ocean awaiting the storm to come.

First of all, while I was being an internet stalker and looking at the list of websites referring to my blog, I came across something pretty... out of the ordinary.  Among the google results for teenage girls (Should I be concerned about this?) and the random combinations of letters and numbers that I've decided not to try clicking on, I found what can really only be described as a sketchy slavic search engine.  That's right, the Russians have found me.

The second of my most glorious musings isn't so much a musing as a pondering.  Ok, I realize that last sentence probably just made me sound about sixty years old.  My most humble of apologies.  But remember my wonderful neighbor boys from a few posts ago?  Back then I think there were just two... well, they've multiplied.  I've actually lost track of how many there are now, because they show up in random combinations.  But the neighbor boys have decided that pretty much every night they are going to have "HoboCon" in my front yard.  HoboCon means Hobo Convention, or a gathering of teenage boys who like to wrestle and pretend they're characters from Scooby Doo.

It's not like I'm anti-HoboCon, but sometimes it gets a little old.  So far I've pretty much managed to avoid feeding them, save for one unfortunate occasion.  My theory is that, like stray animals, if you feed them you'll never get rid of them.