|December 5, 2005
December 10, 2005
Last night I logged on to my email after what was shaping
up to be a particularly foul week was coming to a close. Inside was
waiting an invoice from my service provider, Burton Hosting. Now, they
send my regular bill at the start of the month - so I knew what this
was. Bandwidth overage again. I get 500 gigs of outgoing bandwidth but
I'm also hosting my friend Aaron's site for the glorious Slacker
Astronomy. I shrugged and opened the email.
$302. Three Hundred and Two Fucking Dollars in overage at a rate of $1
per gig over 500 gigs.
Holy... no. What?
So Aaron and I talk - Aaron, incidentally, also does the tech intensive
stuff for the server, just like Josh does the ad sales (bless them
both). He went through, fixed the logs program and checked to see if it
was his site that was eating the bandwidth.
It wasn't. It's Something Positive that is.
Oh, and that's not all. Apparently I was wrong about how many people
read this comic. See, the logs were a little fubarred and I was
estimating my readership at about 175,000. No. Not quite. This site
gets an average of 124,000 unique visitors a week apparently - and
318,000 unique visitors a month.
318,000... a month.
So, I've been neglecting 143,000 of you. Wow. I feel like a dickhead.
Here's a special message for all 143,000 of you:
Baby... baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you.
Sometimes I just go out of my head and I don't know... I can't defend
it, baby. I know. I've not been good to you, but I do love you.
Honest. See, I'm used to having things one way but you need them
another, y'know. But I'm trying. I swear to God I am.
... To the rest of you... No, honest. It's just us. I swear. You know
you 175,000 are the ones I really love. -R
And I'm sorry about getting drunk and vomiting on your shoes. And your
cat. I don't know what I was thinking. Now, I know what you're saying.
"What about the time you vomited on my new dress?" That's not fair. I
wasn't drunk and you know it. That was the shrooms. And I'm so
sorry about what happened with your dad. I could have sworn he said, "I
need a reach-around." I just thought it was a weird family custom and I
really want your folks to like me - all 286,000 of them.
And I know I get jealous and act like a jerk sometimes but I can't help
it. I see how those other webcartoonists look at you. It makes me
crazy. Tim Buckley, Hawk, Dorothy Gambrell, Pete Abrams... I know they
sweet talk you and say nice things - I know they say they're just trying
to be friendly, but believe me, baby. They want you. You want to use
you for your eyes. They don't care about you - they're just tryin' to
split up up, baby. But I love you. You've gotta believe me. I love
you for your mind. I love you for your soul. I love you for your
power heart and who I see you to be. Those other guys, I
know them. I even loved one or two of 'em.
I don't want to see you hurt. That's all.
C'mon, baby. Let's just go home. I'll give you a foot rub. We'll curl
up watching a DVD or listening to some Orbital. Then I'll give you
punchlines all night long. Yeah. You like that, don't you?
Dirty little reader.
I love you, too.