Heavens to Betsy('s Wedding). I've missed my boat. And airplane. And dirigible.

For a few days, I had planned to acknowledge my "visitor barometer" and urge the 10,000th blog visitor to sign my guestbook (forever spitting on the fertile seeds of Father time).

However, much to the dismay of record-keepers everywhere, the opportunity's come and gone and I've missed my chance. Schmack.

If, for whatever reason, you happen to remember that you (YOU!) were the 10,000th maniac, then by all means, sign that goddamn guestbook. It's your civic duty. If you don't, it's like watching "American Idol" and not voting afterwards (i.e. stealing).

I am bracing myself for no sign(ature) from the myster visitor. Instead, I will imagine who the 10,000th visitor was. It'd like to think it was a famous general - adorned in medals and knives. And he's so cute!

Who's your fantasy 10,000th visitor?

Stacy said it was Bobby Moorhouser. What?! I'm just sayin'!