i had a dream. the internet killed it.

it's official.
i'm mad at the internet.
furious with html code.
purple with palpable irritation at the thought of a file manager.
erroniously pertrubed with "hostgator", "hostmonstor" or anything related to hosting.

i had a dream.
the internet killed it.


if you know me, you know when i get a crazy hair brained idea, i get excited. i mean, really excited. i devote all of my energetic energy into my craziness. i daydreamed of news worthy articals covering the story of a stay at home mom turned mogule in a rags to riches story of one woman's determination coupled with innovative lovely sellables that turned the world of small buisness topsy-turby. i can see it now: bloomingdales wanting to buy out my product line. google wanting to purchase my catchy website name. bill gates wanting to know website secrets.

but nevermind.
my dreams: squashed.
my hopes: shattered.
my internet mega-store: a fleeting memory.

i have a question for all of you reading this....

(ok there are probably only three of you that have managed to stick with this rediculous blog and read down this far)

all of these random people have websites.
all of these random people have websites that sell things, and market things, and produce things.
how do they do it?

-i spent 207 hours on this website thing-a-majig (which is sad)

-i spent 104 of those hours crying out of pure frustration (which is even sadder)

-i became so frustrated that it made me want to spit (which is what my mom says when she's really mad)


i'll admit that i'm pretty good at figuring things out, or figuring out a way to figure them out.

but i have found something that has eluded me:
a website.

congratulations internet.
one more dream sprung from a hopeful heart...squelched in the grip of your iron clad codes and mind boggling access numbers.

so long.
i'm never using you again.












well, ok, fine. you win.
i'm using you right now to write about never using you again.
i loose, yet again.
i will probably use you almost everyday for the rest of my years.
but i won't like it.
not one bit.
i'm still mad at you.