The Rise And Demise Of The Woofer

Last night I was once again asked, "What's up with that Woofer thing?" Since I've had to explain it several times lately I thought I should probably put a formal written explanation here. So here goes...........

Long ago a young lad (well, younger than now anyway) and his fair maiden traveled to the golden land of Ebay. This was near the end of the reign of the benevolent King Pierre and life there was good. The happy couple settled in to sell their wares and also joined the village known as The eBay Blogs.

As with all good folk who settled into the land the young lad and his fair maiden took a user name. Since at that time they were the proud possessors of two fine golden retrievers they took 2woofers as their name. And in the village of The Ebay blogs they became known as Woofer and Mrs. Woofer. There they met many fine people such as Bay Vendor, DDKitty, PBE (Pretty Blue Eyes), CrazyJeans, and hundreds of others.

Now the village of Ebay Blogs existed in the olden days before the larger cities of My Space and Facebook had appeared, but it worked in much the same way. The villagers would gather and post and comment on other villagers posts. We would wish each other good morning, post a little humor, display our wares to each other and in general have fun.

It became a close community. We would admire each other's wares, cheer each success, offer advice, give holiday wishes, and offer up prayers and support in times of trouble. There was the occasional knave, such as Dinners or Aidan, but we banded together and defeated our common enemies. Through all of this we rarely knew each others real names. Woofer was known as Woofer.

After several idyllic years King Pierre stepped down and turned over the reins to Queen Meg. Rumblings began that bad things were in the wind for the future of the village, but we persisted. And flourished. And became closer.

But alas, at last the power was turned over to the evil Sir John of Donahoe who decreed that the village of Ebay Blogs be burned to the ground and it's citizenry cast to the four winds. Such social foolishness cost money and could not possibly be looked on with favor by the Gods Of The Bottom Line. And so it came to pass.

Cast into the vast wilderness of the Internet the villagers, left without a home, wandered and tried to settle in to some of the new cities. They came to Twitter but could not find a happy life in the land of 140 characters. They tried My Space which was confusing and without a way to communicate. They tried Multiply where they almost found a home but that didn't quite work either.

Fast forward to the present. Most of the villagers have found a home of sorts in the City of Facebook. But here their old names cannot be used. They must be known by the names given to them at birth. And they, villagers at heart, have found the city life to be harsher and more impersonal than the life they had known before.

So now Woofer has again become Roy. Mrs. Woofer has been relegated back to Donna. The user names of good friends have been lost in the mists of time. The wonderful fairy tale that we all lived for many years is gone. We have been returned back to a real world that we all enjoyed getting away from once in a while. The magic of that time will never be recaptured. For most of us it was like having our own little piece of Camelot and we loved it. Now we have been moved away from our time of innocence.

When you've had to explain something one too many times and people look at you like maybe you should get your meds changed after they hear the explanation, you come to the realization that a really good part of your past has died. And you're late for the funeral.

Woofer is dead. Long live.........whoever the hell I am now that I'm not Woofer.

Woofer On The Road To Hell

I like to think of myself as a nice person. Caring, moderate sense of humor, willing to help little old ladies cross the street as long as they don't walk faster than I do. I'm a little on the homely side, but probably not in competition to make the centerfold of the December issue of Hobbit Playboy Magazine. Well, the hairy feet might be a little bit of a turnoff, but if you pretend they're Doc Martens they're pretty cool.

Anyway, I digress. And I digress well. And frequently. In fact, I think I might be doing it again.

Back on topic......like there really is one (digression again).

Imagine my surprise the other day when I received an email from a rather irate person stating, "God hates you and he's going to come and kick your ass."

Now I always thought God kind of liked me. When I was just a tiny woofer in Sunday school they taught me that God was a God of love and that Jesus loves me. This I know. For the bible tells me so. Little woofers to him belong........damn, digressing again.

Apparently my church had this wrong. God loves you only if you do certain things and vote for certain political parties. Now I usually don't do politics. First of all I have no party affiliation. I have been asked by all the major political parties not to join. Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, even the PETA Party (do they feel sorry for themselves?)

I have to hate certain kinds of people. I have to write my congressman and request that he pass legislation so that it's legal for all the good folks to shoot these people on sight. Or at least soundly whomp their asses. I have to seriously believe that America, the country I dearly love, is perpetually on the verge of falling, usually by next Tuesday at 10:00. If I refuse to live in eternal fear I will feel the WRATH OF GOD! And there was a whole laundry list of other stuff I could do and couldn't do to stave off this serious ass kicking that God has scheduled for me.

Now woofers in general are a peaceful group. We're basically neither left or right, choosing to pick the best from both sides and kind of leave the bad stuff to others. Unless extremely threatened, the average woofer is not prone to violence or insane outbursts of anger or hate. We dislike intense physical pain and are allergic to bullets. They make us break out in big round holes that bleed.

Sheesh.....I made it through all of that without a digression. Tried real hard too.

Anyway, if you don't hear from me again, and all my blogs, Facebook posts, and tweets disappear overnight you can be pretty sure what happened. God came down and beat me to a pulp. A woofer pulp. A tiny little puddle of fur and ick that probably won't be getting up and walking again. And then I'm gonna be cast into the fiery pits of hell with scary demons using implements purchased from the Spanish Inquisition Surplus store who will torture me throughout eternity. 'Cause woofers are no match for an angry God.

And if He reads this blog it's probably a pretty sure bet that I'm doomed, screwed, outta luck.

Sorry God. Whatever I did I didn't mean to do it.


I'm Woofer, and I approved this message.

The Woofer Guide To General Contractors (be very afraid)

I have been self-employed since 1986. To some people this is a major accomplishment. They have worked hard, learned their trade or business, put together a business plan to build a successful business. Notice the word plan.

For me, self-employment was not a plan, it was a necessity. I used to get fired. I used to get fired a lot. I went into business because I was deemed by the community at large as being totally unemployable, morally reprehensible, and probably on the verge of being brain dead. None of this looks good on your resume.

I had been a carpenter for years, with a few segues into some very interesting fields of endeavor that I was totally unqualified for. At times I have been: A loan collector for a finance company, a commercial lending officer for a bank, and a restaurant manager. I have learned over the years that if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit. Works every time. Except I got fired a lot. I may hold a record for being fired.

So having an extensive carpentry background, I decided to embark on a career as a General Contractor. After all, I had passed the most rigorous tests a carpenter could face. I could drink two quarts of Bud at 7:00 a.m., indulge in a little herbal recreation before lunch, and still almost figure out what was on a blueprint. Close counts, right?

So I got me some business cards, threw an ad in the local paper, did an inventory of my rather meager tool collection and bank account and figured I was ready to take the world by storm. I didn't consider that the fact that I knew nothing about estimating, pricing or contracts might be a liability.

I learned early on that a General Contractor needs one major talent. You must have the ability to convince the homeowner that no matter how badly you're screwing up, you're right, their wrong, give me the check.

In the state of New Jersey you only need three things to get a General Contractor's license: Liability insurance, which they will give to any fool with money, $99.00 for the license, and a hammer. The hammer might be optional. You don't need to prove experience. If you can draw a house on construction paper with a crayon you have just qualified.

So the next time you need a General Contractor, think about this. You might just want to invest the time in watching reruns of "This Old House" and do it yourself.

Woofer's Guide To Social Media (or how not to do Twitter)

I got an email the other day telling me that basically I don't have a clue how to properly use social media. Apparently the fact that I'm having fun is the first indication that I just don't have this thing right. Kind of put me in a tailspin.

So I got up from the computer, made a cup of coffee, swallowed a handful of anti-depressants (woofers don't take criticism well), and decided I needed to do a full out in depth analysis of my social media skills. I came up with this really neat list of things I seem to be doing wrong:

1. I actually talk to people. Real people. People who, just like me, apparently aren't doing this thing right.
2. I don't post floods of inspirational messages all day long to keep my fellow social media types motivated to make it through their long intense day. I have been told I can make up for this by quoting several bible verses over and over. Guess I shouldn't have sold my bible on eBay.
3. I do not follow two or three hundred life coaches. Apparently my life sucks, theirs is better and I should be listening to them.
4. My teeth aren't white enough. I'm led to believe that tweeting properly will give you white teeth, guarantee you wealth, and a life filled with bliss and ecstasy. My bad.......
5. I don't follow everyone who follows me. This, I'm told, is bad Twitter etiquette and your Twitter status is set by the number of followers you have. Silly me.......I also believed it when I was told that "Size does not matter."

Well, I like to talk. Anyone who knows me even a little knows I never shut up. It's one of my more endearing qualities. I have never inspired another human being to greater heights. If my life sucks really bad I haven't caught on yet. If my teeth are brown and nasty it's not my problem. I don't look at them all day.

I currently follow a little more than 600 people. I am presently being followed by about 70o, and that's only because I haven't done my weekly blocking. I save that for Sunday mornings. I find blocking to be a spiritually cleansing part of my week.

What am I supposed to do when I get this:

• Bio: Instigation and support of self and lifestyle improvement through effective daily personal growth & development, and financial freedom.

This "person" has 16,814 people he's following. He has 15,285 followers. He's on 96 lists. He's tweeted 16,785 times and never once to another person. He is the epitome (like that word?) of true Twitter status. I should model myself more after him..........

But I'm not gonna do it. I like what I do. I'm not gonna play games all day on Facebook. I'm not gonna send hearts and bears and flowers to hundreds of people a day. I'm not gonna scream my political opinions from the highest nest in Twitter. I may have this whole thing wrong, but I kind of like being wrong.

I am Woofer. Hear me roar!

A Woofer Exercise In Futility

I've been told I should write. My daughter says I should write. Mrs. Woofer says I should write. So I have taken the time to find this site and prove once and for all that I have no talent whatsoever for writing.

Let's see here........oh, yeah, my qualifications. Hang on folks, I'm about to wow you with my estimable qualifications to write a blog. Hmmmm......no MBA from the Wharton School of Business, not a highly trained educator, haven't really achieved notoriety for my marketing skills, and my grooming habits leave something to be desired..............

I'm a male of the species with a cat avatar who calls himself Woofer. That should get people flocking to this blog and folks clammering at my door to advertise here. I may set a record for being the most unfollowed person on Twitter. I am the poster child for what not to do to be successful in social media.

Still here? There are important people out there posting important stuff. Instead of being here, you could be educating yourself on the hot topics of the day: How well endowed is Tiger? Will Octomom have more kids? What did Jon and Kate have for breakfast? And the most burning question of all: Will Woofer get his own reality show?

Get out there folks. Learn the important things that will improve the quality of not only your life but those around you.

Personally, I'm gonna head back to Twitter right now and irritate the hell out of a bunch of people.......hope your day doesn't suck too bad!