I’m out of town today, so my friend (and book editor!) Lacey Keigley is going to be guest posting for me.
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Everyone has a blog these days, right?

I mean, if my grandmother was still living and if she wasn’t afraid of technology and if she didn’t believe that computers were designed by the devil himself to lure weak-minded people to the depths of hell, well – I think she’d have a blog too.

And every blog is a little bit different.
But all those blog writers want the same thing, you know.

Readers.
Commenters.
Some quasi-interaction with the faces that see your stuff across the country or across the world or across the room.

And I don’t always read blogs that are just like mine.

You don’t have to have six kids for me to think you are hilarious.
I don’t need to believe what you believe about God or hair implants or dog racing or body piercings.

But there are a couple of definite ways to be certain that I will not be reading your next blog post, no matter how many times you retweet the link to your 612 followers.

So if you are really concerned about my readership of your blog, you should probably not do any of the following:

Consistently spell loads of words wrong.
I’ll overlook an error in spelling or a typo or two every now and again.
Because I’m forgiving like that.
But come on – every post?
Just use the spellchecker provided right there on your screen.
It’s not as if you have to drag out the old Webster’s any longer.
It’s a feature on your wordpress/blogger/what-have-you site.

Include any reference to your DS or your DD.
Seriously.
It took me far longer than I care to admit to discover what DS or DD meant.
Tyler says only “mom bloggers” use this term.  He’s probably right.
But you can’t deny that those “mommy blogs” are an internet cash cow these days.
And if even one of those moms is reading right now – this will be worth it.
Because now I know DS means darling son – and I think it’s just plain silly.
It makes you sound as if you have a butler named Belvedere answering the door at your place.
Who refers to their child as “darling” all the time anyway?
Just people with butlers is all.

Feature some kind of background music that overrides whatever sounds I am already listening to when I click over to your blog.
I just want to catch a glimpse of what is happening at your house, with your kids or your greyhounds or your body piercings.  You know. Whatever it is.
And suddenly all I hear is a song I didn’t plan on listening to right now.
Alright, I’ll admit.  I might not actually stop viewing your blog forever, because hey – you might be my friend.
But I’m not kidding when I say I will definitely hit mute as quickly as my index finger can reach the fourth button from the right on my keyboard.

Run your ads down both sides of the site.
Maybe I am just being anal here.
That’s possible.
But if your ads overwhelm your content, I’m pretty much done looking.
I’m a lazy blog reader.
And if I have to work hard to read your words?
Well.  I just won’t be doing that.

Only put up a new post about every other month.
I went to your blog because I liked reading about you.  And how your hair implants are making you more popular than ever at the office Christmas parties.
But remember this – I am a lazy blogger.
I’ve already mentioned that once, okay?
I don’t have time to click over to your site only to be greeted by a post dated July of 2009.
You just wasted thirty-four seconds of my morning.
So, listen.
If you plan on only writing about every other month, you can pretty much assume that I will be reading you even less than about every other month.

Check out more of Lacey’s writing at her blog SoEveryday.com.
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Post sponsored by Atlanta Personal Injury Attorney, Robert N. Susko

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Today we have the privilege of hearing from my former cyber-friend and current real friend, Bryan Allain. It’s bittersweet for me, really. I love having his content on my site, but I hate having my readers like his posts better than mine. I guess we can just chalk today up to an exercise in humility for me. Here’s yet another gem from Bryan…
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Saturday was my son Parker’s Opening Day for Little League, and if you’ve been to one opening day, you’ve been to them all. There’s team pictures, ceremonial first pitches, parading the kids around like prized cattle, the handing out of individualized tobacco pouches, and eventually they even play a baseball game.

We’re really looking forward to this season because we have a great coach this year, something that hasn’t always been the case. If you’ve been through a bad sports coach before, you know just how annoying it can be. And if you WERE that bad coach for someone, well, you probably had no idea.

But hey, that’s what I’m here for. I don’t want you to be that coach that everyone is rolling their eyes at from the first base bleachers. So here’s a quick list of things to avoid that make sure you don’t turn into the Awful Little League Coach.

1. Do Not Show Up 15 Minutes Late for Most Practices – Listen buddy, I have a job too. We all do. And yet for the 3rd time this month, you’re the only one who’s a half hour late. Or more importantly, the bats, helmets, and bucket of balls are a half hour late. I guess the kids can stop running laps and vomiting now.

2. Make Sure you know the Lingo – This isn’t a quiz, I promise. I’m not looking for 3 different nicknames for a left-handed pitcher . But I have to draw the line somewhere, and the fact that you just said, “C’mon guys, we need to score 2 more points this period!” has me a little worried.

3. Know Your Limitations – Considering you haven’t broken into a jog since the mid-90s, it was probably a bad idea to show the kids how to round third base at full speed. On the bright side, it’s not every day you see a grown man run into a fence.

4. Do Not Give Talks that last for more than 5 Minutes – I’ll admit, I’m impressed that you understand the physics of the curve ball. But you lost the kids 10 minutes ago when you started throwing out the principles of the Magnus Effect. How about we put the periodic table away and just play catch?

5. Speak Nicely – I don’t care how you talk to your kids, but I do care how you talk to mine. Raise your voice like that one more time and this situation is gonna get as ugly as your throwing motion. (Speaking of which, congratulations on throwing a ball for the first time in your life tonight.)

So there’s 5 tips to get you started on the road to not being an awful little league coach. I’m sure the fine patrons of this blog can fill in the blanks and give you some additional pointers in the comments.

Now get out there, throw some batting practice, and please Don’t Be That Guy.

(When Bryan’s not at the ball field you can find him writing about the humorous side of life, faith, pop culture, and living among the Amish at his blog, BryanAllain.com. You can also find him wasting time at twitter.com/bryanallain.)
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Post sponsored by Atlanta Personal Injury Attorney, Robert N. Susko

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(This is a special Tuesday edition of the Saturday Morning Guest Post. It’s from Bryan Allain, one of the funniest bloggers on Planet Earth. If you haven’t already, go check out his blog directly after you get finished reading.)

Let’s get real for a second: we all take dumps. And like it or not, there’s going to come a time when you’ve got to answer the call of nature at your place of work. When you do, here’s a few rules to live by:

1. Do Not Bring Visible Reading Material Into the Stall With You

Just because you read the entire USA Today while pooping at home, doesn’t mean you can get away with it in a public setting. Few things gross out strangers more than the thought of you feeding the toilet while enjoying an Op-Ed piece, so do us all a favor and hide the article as you walk into the bathroom. If you want to bring reading material into the crapper, fold it up and stick it in your pocket. If It’s too big for that, tuck it into your waistband and hide it under your shirt. Just make sure you have a quick route to the bathroom before someone tries to corral you into a convo. Nothing worse than talking to your boss with loose leaf paper jabbing you in the ribs.

2. Do Not Advertise Who You Are

Once you’re comfortable on the throne, do a quick check of the area around your feet to make sure you’re not selling ad space for yourself. If you’ve got an ID badge clipped to your belt, make sure your pretty face isn’t staring out at everyone else in the bathroom. Sure, you’ve got every right to stink the place out and go to town, as long as you do it in anonymity. But the moment I know that it’s Jason from Sales in there pinching off loaves, I know too much.

3. Do Not Continue Conversations from Behind the Stall Door

Trust me on this one: there is nothing so important to talk about that it can’t wait until after you’ve lost a few pounds making deposits at the bank of stank. A few weeks ago I was trying to pee when two guys walked into the bathroom in the middle of a conversation. The one guy hit the urinals and continued the exchange while the other guy dropped trow and started grunting out cross-court winners. You could literally hear him catching his breath between pushes so he could keep the conversation going. Unacceptable.

4. Do Not Take Any Phone Calls on the Pot

I dont care if it’s your wife, your boss, or Locke from LOST. Let it go to voicemail. The hushed, “can’t talk…in the bathroom” thing never works out and leaves everyone involved feeling a little dirty.

5. Do Not Engage in the Simultaneous Exit

This is, by far, my biggest bathroom pet peeve. If I’m in one stall and you’re in the next, you better recognize that we are going to be leaving our commodes one at a time and NOT simultaneously. Here’s the rule: the person that starts with the toilet paper first gets to finish and leave before the second person can leave. I swear to you, my biggest nightmare is a simultaneous exit from adjacent stalls where me and some other dude just started World War 3 on the sewer system. And then as we step out together I try to avoid eye contact, but I can’t. And he looks over at me with a smile on his face and asks for a high-five.

Please, don’t be that guy.

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(This Saturday Morning Guest Post is from Leigh Floyd, a consistently hilarious commenter here and my first female guest poster)

The Facebooker
She has a Facebook account and not only has requested to be friends with every person she knows, but also with all of her kid’s friends. She keeps thinking she is writing on a wall when actually she is posting a status therefore broadcasting things such as:

“U look great 2 Melissa! Ur kids are 2 cute.”

When she does post a status correctly it is uniquely embarrassing. Such as: “Just dance, It’ll be okay – LOL” or “Headed to the gstore and then spaghetti 4 dinner. Yum-O”.

This mom also enjoys reading what her kid’s friends have posted and then using it against them later.

The Slang Thrower
Oh, Slang Thrower, why you gotta be like that?  Oh yeah, this mom knows all the words and phrases the kids are saying these days.  She watches The Hills, so of course she’s on top of it. This mom is also known to mix it up a bit by incorporating slang from the past 20 years into her conversations at inappropriate times, such as “Killer”, “Right On” and “Talk to the hand!”

She says “tight” and “sick” and she’s not even talking about your jeans or little Billy’s barf party. Now, she doesn’t use these words around her friends.  Oh no.  She reserves these gems for use around her kids’ friends.  Her friends wouldn’t understand anyway.  Not that she’s hatin’, it’s just, well, they can be whack. Here’s a typical conversation with the Slang Thrower:

Kid’s Friend: Hi Ms. T.
Slang Thrower: (holding her fist up for a bump) Whassup whassup, little man?
Kid: (Eyes rolling as he heads to the fridge for a Dr. Thunder)
KF: (slightly/awkwardly bumping fist w/ST) Ummm, not much.
ST: I hear your new skateboard is off the chain.
K: Mom.
KF:  Yeah, I like it.
ST: That Fred across the street has some sick skills.  Maybe he will help you.
K: Sick. Skills. Seriously?
KF: (slowly looking at Kid) Okay, uh, thanks.
ST: Fo shizzle.
K: (disgustedly walks out, giving a nod for his friend to follow)
KF: See ya, Ms. T.
ST: Later dudes.

The Football Mom
This mom comes to games sporting her sons practice jersey, carrying a large cowbell and a poster with his name in glitter. Sometimes she brings a foghorn but only during playoffs. When her son does something good she can be heard yelling: “You da man, Cuatro Uno!

During the game she sometimes walks down to the coaches and offers them a shoulder rub and a damp towel while reminding them that her son hasn’t gotten all his playing time in yet, and oh, he really likes to play middle linebacker instead of outside linebacker.
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I don’t get Inexperienced Mic Handlers. They’ve seen correct microphone execution before. They know, in theory, what one should do to amplify his voice. Yet somehow, when they’re up on stage, handing them a microphone is the equivalent of handing them a lit stick of dynamite. All sense of reason leaves them and one of the following alter-egos emerge:

The Long Distancer
You never realized how long this guy’s arms were until he got up on stage to speak into a hand-held mic. What could possibly make him think that waist-level, three feet away from the body is proper mic positioning?

The Breather
It appears that this person ran a few laps before getting up on stage to talk. His 30-second announcement turns into a four-and-a-half minute display of how not to breathe through the mouth.

The Inhaler
I’ve seen make-out sessions less scandalous than The Inhaler speaking into a microphone. This guy gives the audience an all-too-intimate glimpse of what is happening on the inside of his mouth. I think I could actually hear him getting a cavity. How is he not getting shocked with all that electricity and saliva in such close proximity?

The Gesturer
No one needs a mic stand more than this guy. He thinks that waving his hands around in the air is making his story more exciting, but it’s just leaving the audience confused and mad. “Great story pal. I caught a few you know‘s and something about a steam engine, but other than that, it just looked like you were telling me “wide” in sign language the whole time.”

The Checker
Check. Check one-two. Is this thing on? Can you hear–? Check. I’m not hearing it. Test. Nothing. Test. TEST. Am I on? Can you hear me? I’M NOT GETTING ANYTHING! This is ridic– Are we good? Finally? Yeah, I think we’re good. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…

How else is The Inexperienced Mic Handler displayed?
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(This Saturday Morning Guest Post is from my friend Jon Arena, the healthiest and most sarcastic man I know)

We all know a Yankees fan we’d love to punch in the throat, or that guy at work who dedicates 100% of his free time to becoming the world’s foremost authority on Jack Bauer. But neither one of these can touch the #1 Concert Fan.

The unfortunate thing about the #1 Concert Fan is that in a cruel paradox of obnoxiousness, this “guy” will always make up about 48% of the audience.  Two notes into that obscure song that only the serious fans know, the #1 Concert Fan will scream at the top of his/her voice, indicating “Hey!  I know this song!  And not only do I know this song, I freaking love it!  I’m probably going to demonstrate how much I love it by singing all the words!  Don’t sweat it if you’re not into _____ as much as I am; you can just listen to me singing the words right in your ear.  That way you’ll be able to enjoy _____ AND me singing at almost the same time!”

Why do these people feel the need to scream and sing during a concert?  They’re doing the very things that they’ve paid the musicians to do.  And if someone absolutely must scream for a song, make it something like Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” or Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama”.  Not “Re:Stacks” by Bon Iver.  That one hasn’t exactly cracked the top 100 of Americana yet.

There are very few things that make me feel like I’ve wasted money more than overpaying for tickets to go to a concert to see a musical act that I’ve probably already got albums from, only to hear some power tool drowning out the actual performer by singing off key and out of time.
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