As featured by the Huffington Post; May 5-7, 2015
I’ve done some imbecilic things in my life but nothing tops trying to build my own website without professional help. What I thought would be a fun weekend project made me go gray in places I didn’t know I had hair.
Yes, it crossed my mind it might be harder than it looks but everyone I know has a blog these days so I figured I’d get plenty of help if I ran into trouble. Never have I been so utterly deluded.
What was I thinking? Was I briefly insane? Infused with that false bravado so unique to American men, I ignored the step-by-step instructions and purchased instead the just-for-chumps eBook, How To Launch A Blog In Under Hour. After reading it I was lucky to find the cursor in under an hour.
Thus began my journey through a flatland fantasia of crazy-maze menus and links leading nowhere until I’d somehow created a latter-day version of the Winchester House. I have no idea how I escaped.
Looking back, I could have spent my time on any number of saner pursuits. Hang gliding over Beirut comes to mind or paddling the Bermuda Triangle in a papyrus canoe. Instead, I was destined to learn two timeless and immutable truths:
1) The minute you start to build own site, friends disperse like spooked baboons.
2) Any relief you get calling third world support will be offset by the fact you can’t understand what they say.
As for my friends who did nothing to help, you are forgiven. Even though most of you have smart phones that do everything but make French Toast, I believe you when you say you haven’t gotten my calls since Christmas. I also believe if I came to your house begging for help, you wouldn’t come to the door if the Beatles were playing on your porch.
Yesterday, I concluded the only thing innovative about my site is an eye-burning color scheme visible from across the street. I almost convinced myself this had artistic merit until my mother saw my site and labelled it “Ebola At Baskin-Robbins.”
I’ve launched the damned thing anyway and I don’t care who likes it. Consider this my mission statement, or more to the point, my fission statement. Not that I’m the type that blows up very often but if it’s true that some people spontaneously combust, I’ve got to be getting pretty close.