*Bump*

Hey! I just wrote a new blog entry!
Here.

Shoo! Go Away!

The Baby Blue Spider is leaving.

I have a Web site, and a blog. It's always kind of annoyed me that I hit myself with, "Ok, great blog entry! Now... what am I going to say on the site?"

God bless eblogger for giving us free space, but I'm paying for my site, so.... I'm afraid it's time to say good-bye here.

I'll make a few transitioning posts, with links to my site. In the meantime, I encourage you to go ahead now and update your bookmarks.

Here's where you'll want to go from now on: MichaelRigg.com

An Era Past its Time Must End

Don't panic.

That's the first rule of Bite Club.

I have to bite the bullet. I'm closing down the "Spider." I've been thinking about this long and hard -- well, for the last fifteen minutes anyway -- and I've decided to close down my blog....

And move it to my Web site!

I figured there's no point in having both, and since I'm PAYING for my Web site, I figured I might as well blog up on that one, right?

Tell me I'm crazy.

Boom, thump thump boom

Oh, I've got such a headache.

Don't you hate it when you get one of those headaches that coincides with a song stuck in your head. It throbs and pulses with the beat and you keep hearing the same damn lyrics over-and-over-and....

Thank God it's Friday, though I have to admit....

I thought yesterday was Friday.

And no, it's not Bonnie Tyler.

Even in the 80s she looked like a grandma

Okay, in an effort to continue writing every day, I've decided to keep the Baby Blue Spider going EVEN IF I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY.

Well, I got nothin'.

You know what I hate?

That Bonnie Tyler song, "Total Eclipse of the Heart."

It's friggin' creepy. Don't get me wrong, I liked the song. It's got a good beat to it, yadda yadda yadda, but what's with this...?

Gloth sits on the table cloth

The hump.

It's back again.

It's that demon made of flesh and butter, rolling noodles like lovemaking worms, just slobbering and vomiting Alfredo sauce.

Esch.

I'm talking, of course, about weight. Mine's back up since vacation. And, of course, I expected that. It was a nice, cushy week where my wife and I didn't think about anything -- least of all ourselves. We just did what we wanted, ate what we wanted. Didn't even care what we were doing to ourselves.

Self-destruction. Now that's a vacation.

Yesterday, I got back on my bike. I can feel it coming back, although I can see where the demon sinks its talons. The bastard had my mind going: "There's something wrong with my chain," "Is it supposed to wobble like that?" "What's that clicking noise?" "You should stop now and rest."

Oh, demon. I name thee Gloth. There. I took away your power.