Will This Make Up For Being Away So Long?

Hey, Friends.

I'm a horrible, horrible person.  I just realized that it's been well over a month since I last posted anything here.  If anyone still bothers to check in here -- I'm so sorry.  I have lots of excuses for why I've been away so long.

-- Work has been super crazy, and I was just exhausted most days.  I don't want to write things here that will bore you all to tears, so for lack of anything amusing and/or interesting to say I just opted to stay silent.

-- It was my birthday back on May 16th, so I was busy being social.

-- My Grandpa passed away a couple days later.  (That would be the valid excuse I mentioned.) Compound that with everything going on in the news and the world feeling like it was going to hell in a hand basket most of the time?  I was not feeling the urge to write.

-- Then it was suddenly already Memorial Day and my Mom's birthday.....

And now here we are.  It's already June and it feels like the time went by so fast.

How can I make up for my absence, Friends?  I mean...I assume you might have missed me...maybe just a little bit.  I'm going to pretend that you did.  Odds are greater that you had so much going on in your own lives that you didn't even notice. That's cool.  I can't say shit about it since I wasn't around either.

So let's make up for lost time by climbing inside my psyche and trying to interpret my latest weird dream.  For those of you that have been reading here a while, you might remember some of my other messed up dreams:  like this one involving licorice, or the the one about a picnic on a mountain top, or the one about avocados and making guacamole.

I'm not expecting you to go back and read all of those -- you know, unless you really have nothing better to do, or you are just incredibly bored, or finish this whole thing and find yourself weirdly intrigued by whatever my crazy dreams reveal and want to go further down the rabbit hole.  That being said, I'm pretty sure Avocado Dream Guy made a reappearance in this last dream, so that might be helpful if only for reference.

Okay, enough dawdling.

For our new Friends here who haven't had the chance to read any of the previous entries, a little background:

• I rarely remember my dreams after waking up.  I'm sure I have them, but I couldn't tell you anything about them.
• When I do remember anything it's usually just small pieces, or a feeling. We aren't ever going to have a lot of material to work with is my point, kids.
• I rely on Google for my dream interpretation.  They pretty much already own my soul, so any added weirdness in my search history based on a dream is just a drop in the bucket at this point.

On to the dream:

I was riding in a car with a guy.  The guy was driving and I was in the passenger seat.  I have no idea where we were or if we even had a destination in mind.  Once again, I could not see the face of the guy, but in the dream it didn't matter because I knew who he was.  He was taller than me, dark hair. I'm pretty sure it was Avocado Dream Guy -- it was definitely a similar vibe.  The interior of the car was black, and it was super comfy.  The only thing that could be seen from any of the windows was bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. There was no road visible, nor any other traffic.  I know we weren't in a plane because it was clearly the interior of a car, and he was driving it. We were just driving along and talking.  I can't even recall what we were talking about -- not one single thing.  I do remember feeling relaxed and happy during our conversation, but  I also had this kind of nervous, giddy, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling.  It was a strange combination. How to explain?  It was like he was someone incredibly important, or with a really hectic schedule, and it just seemed unbelievable that he would choose to spend that much time and focus that much attention just on me.  It was odd.  It wasn't surprising, since we already knew each other and were friends, but somehow still kind of amazing that I was getting that much of his time to myself.

And then I woke up.  My first thought was, "It was nice to see him again."  WTF?!  That's why I think it was Avocado Dream Guy, because how can it be nice to see someone again when I don't know who the hell he is in the first place?

Are you ready to try and sort out this mess of a dream?  Fantastic.

Let's start with Mr. Blurry Face.  For those of you who still haven't bothered to click the link above and read about that dream, let me copy and paste the relevant info for you.

"Alrighty.  So maybe Mr. Blurry Face With the Dark Hair has some answers.  Let's Google that shit.

Unsurprisingly, the most popular answer is that it is someone I don't know.  Second most popular is that it really is someone I know, and I should not trust him.  My subconscious is trying to tell me I am being deceived.  Heartwarming."

I tried looking up dreams about cars, but apparently the color and or the type of car could make a difference.  I don't have either of those pieces of information.  All I know about the car is that the interior was black.  I'm not going to waste time looking up the importance of the color black.  Black happens to be one of my favorite colors, and the interior of my own car is a dark grayish-black.  I'm just going to chalk it up to familiarity.

The fact that I was the passenger got a ton of results...some of which were not so happy, and many of which were completely inapplicable.  

-- There were no other passengers, so we're going to ignore all of those results.  In fact, I don't even recall if there were seats in the back.  

-- It was definitely a car, so ignoring everything about trains, planes, etc.

-- We didn't crash, or speed wildly out of control.  Cross those off the list.

I'll spare you the rest of the weeding process.  Here are the points that seemed to come up time and again. Anything quoted in blue is the wisdom I obtained from a dream interpretation website.

"1. Leaving control, direction and drive to others, to relin­quish power (note mode of transportation). 2. Success is on the way (depending on mode of transportation). 3. Domestic dis­agreements."

Well, that's an incredible amount of options.  Also, nowhere did that website give a list of transportation options. Although another entry on the same page said it could mean I am dissatisfied. Apparently with life in general as no other details were given.  <-- This should be in black.  Blogger is being a pain in the ass and no matter how many times I correct this it keeps reverting to blue.

"To dream that someone else is driving you represents your dependence on the driver. You are not in control of your life and following the goals of others instead of your own."

That might make sense if I knew who the driver was.  I don't know how I can be dependent on Mr. Blurry Face when I don't know who the hell he is. And a big no to the second part. Nobody sets my goals in life but me.  

" If you dream that you are a passenger in a mode of transportation (car, train, boat, airplane), this indicates a feeling of ineffectiveness at reaching your goals. You feel that you need someone else to take you to your goals, because you cannot accomplish them yourself. It also signifies a loss of control of your life, as someone else is in charge of the ultimate destination of the vehicle."

Not exactly happy and uplifting stuff here, Friends.  I feel the need to declare here that I'm pretty damn happy with my life.  I'm not in the middle of an existential crisis. Promise.  I'm pretty sure my life is not spiraling wildly out of control.

"Positive changes are afoot if…

• You found that you liked being the passenger."

I did!  I had a really enjoyable time being the passenger. This wasn't a bad dream by any stretch of the imagination, and it didn't leave me feeling all tense and worried about my life being an utter disaster. This was the only result I found that had a good interpretation of being a passenger.

Maybe the clouds and blue sky have some answers.

-- Fleecy clouds apparently mean joy, delight, and pleasure.

-- Sunny or white clouds symbolize serenity and positive thinking

-- Bright, fluffy clouds apparently indicate aspirations that can be attained.  They imply happiness and success in romance.

I'm out of possible ideas to look up a this point.  I've also dealt with more pop-up ads than I thought possible while looking up all of these websites, which is why I'm not linking to them.  No one needs to deal with that aggravation.

So what did we learn today, Friends?

1) Mr. Blurry Face is back, and I still don't know who the hell he is.  

2) I'm apparently totally cool with someone else being charge and driving to whatever goal there is.

3) I promise I'm not depressed, I'm not agonizing over some goal I cannot reach, and I don't believe the world is crumbling around me.

4)  I find it odd that this is the first dream I can remember in a long time, and the really weird part is that it didn't involve food in some way.

In conclusion, my interpretation of all of this mess is really pretty simple:

I am very, very single.  Like I shouldn't be that freaking thrilled that Mr. Blurry Face wanted to pay attention to me in my own damn dream.  (And I find it kind of frustrating that I still don't know who the hell he is, is I'm being totally honest.)

So does this make up for ignoring you for so long, Friends?  I'm really sorry.  You'll forgive me though, right?  

Are You Talking to Me?

So I was in the store earlier today, waiting to check-out and minding my own business.

From across the store this guy starts yelling, "Hey!  Hey you!"

Everyone turns to look, and I immediately dismiss it because I don't recognize this guy or his friend who was trying to get him to shut up. 

Dude keeps yelling. "Hey Blonde Girl!    Hey!" 

His friend must have been trying to reason with him, as the next outburst that  could be heard across the store was, "But I do know her!  She works at the library!"

Okay, so now I'm a bit intrigued. I turned around to scope out the people in line behind me, fully expecting to see a coworker there. Nope. 

Dude is still going. I finally realize that he might be talking to me.  I think I even pointed to myself to confirm that Mr. Yells-a-lot was really addressing me. 

He was. 

"See?  I told you I know her!  She works at the library!"

I think I waved back. I don't really remember.  I didn't recognize the guy at all, but I really wanted him to shut up and hopefully not follow me out of the store. 

I finally made it to the cashier, and he was equally as confused as I was.  I felt the need to explain that I didn't really know Mr. Yells-a-lot, and wished the cashier good luck. 

And then I left, while Mr. Yells-a-lot was nowhere in sight.  No way am I dealing with that when I am not at work. 

I've been called a lot of things by patrons, not all of which have been polite or friendly.  Blonde Girl, however, is a new one -- one that I don't think anyone else will be using.  

Friends, I realize that might be confusing for some of you who don't actually know me. "Blonde Girl" would be a pretty generic reference to say no one else would ever use.  While I don't normally participate in the whole selfie scene, I think I have to include one here so you fully grasp today's weirdness. 

Hi there!  As you can now see, blonde is not usually a word used to describe me. 

I'm going to take this as evidence that strange things happen on Friday the 13th. 

There and Back Again: A Walkway Story

For those of you not from the North East, it has been a long winter this year.  We have had lots of snow, it has been very grey, and the "polar vortex" has visited way too many times this year.  On a day like today, when there is actually sunshine and the temperature is above freezing, everyone gets a raging case of Spring Fever and needs to get outside and do something.  It was almost 50 today (heatwave!), so I decided to go take a stroll on the Walkway Over the Hudson.  Many, many people had the same idea.

First tip for local people: the big free spot where people park?  Not plowed.  I was lucky to get a spot in the pay-parking lot.  I was cool with that as I am crap at parallel parking, which was the only other option.  I go to pay my $5 at the machine, and it isn't accepting cash.  Three of us tried.  Back to the car to get a credit card, as that option was working, and I had no desire to get a ticket or get back and find my car towed.

Finally make it out onto the Walkway, and see this lovely sign:

Work zone?  Well that made me a bit twitchy.  I have a thing about bridges.  When I was little I saw footage on television of a bridge collapsing in a flood, and all of the cars on it going into the water.  Many people drowned.  When we covered escaping from a car in the water during Driver's Ed.  in high school I was probably the most attentive student the teacher had ever seen.  I hate, hate, going over bridges in cars.  I'm better if I am driving and watching the road.  Low bridges are okay, bridges like the Brooklyn Bridge with lots of nice safe metal on the side are best.  I worry the entire time crossing the bridge that it is going to collapse, my car is going to go into the water and I am going to drown, and that will seriously piss me off because I am an excellent swimmer.  That's how my brain works, folks:  not worried about falling from a height, anything else falling in top of me, freezing cold water -- just that fact that I might not have a chance to swim away from it.  

The Walkway doesn't bother me as I'm walking and it is really like a big sidewalk in the air.  I'm not afraid of heights. The sign above gave me pause because what exactly were they working on?  Are there screws falling out or something?  Railing about to fall off?  Oh well.  Not in a car, so it will be splat or swim if something goes horribly wrong.  Besides, if it was really dangerous they wouldn't be letting people walk across it.

Turns out the work is installing an elevator.  I don't think it is finished yet.  The deck and the doors are there, but no visible elevator.

Hello, back of the elevator doors!

There had been an organized walk of some sort earlier in the morning.  They were handing out leftover bottles of water if people wanted them, which was nice.  I came prepared with my coffee so I was good to go.  

About three-quarters of the way across to the Highland side of the Walkway there was a group of three people walking toward the Poughkeepsie side, and they were handing out pamphlets.  They gave one to the three people in front of me, and one to me.  I assumed it was something to do with the walk this morning (which apparently was an International Women's Day march), so I took one.  I was so wrong.  

You have got to be kidding me

I believe my exact words were something eloquent like, "What the hell is this?"  And apparently I said them a little louder than I thought, as the guy in front of me started cracking up.  I must really look like I am Satan's Spawn.  Thirteen visits from the God Squad apparently are not enough!  Now I have people trying to save me in the middle of the Hudson River. The part on the back of the pamphlet where it says "Compliments of:" is blank, but I was able to skim and learn that it is written by Ray Comfort.   It basically goes on about the 10 Commandments, assumes that you are a sinner who has broken them and will be going to Hell, and then compares you to a criminal standing before a judge to try and scare you into accepting their point of view.  Perfect thing to hand out to strangers on a beautiful day!  Oh, and then you are to entrust your life to Jesus Christ, and read and obey the Bible every day.  

The walk back from Highland was much less eventful.  Just beautiful weather, lots of people not proselytizing, and some boats and trains going past.

In Which a Disney Movie Creeps Me Out

Let me start by fessing up that I have been known to watch the Disney Channel. I am an adult,  I don't have any kids, no plausible cover story for doing so.  I could lie and say it is to keep up with what my niece and nephew like to watch, but why bother.  I absolutely love Phineas & Ferb, and Gravity Falls rocks my socks.

When it has been a really long day, you cannot beat the teen movies.  Generally they are set in a high school environment that is much nicer than I remember school being, everyone from opposing cliques gets together by the end, and love conquers all.  It's like Lifetime-lite, without anyone murdering a cheerleader, or an ex-wife or something.  It will all come to a happy ending by the end of the two-hour time slot.

That's what I thought, at least, until I tried to watch the movie Starstruck the other night. In fairness to the writers and the good people at Disney, I need to say that I did not watch the whole thing.  I got so creeped out and side-tracked by one tiny part of the storyline in the beginning that I just stopped watching.

Yeah, that's right.  I got freaked out by a teen movie, during prime time, on the Disney Channel.  It's not even a movie that is supposed to be scary!

Here is a recap of what I saw of the movie:

Two sisters live in a small town in Michigan. (I might have the state wrong.) The older sister and her BFF have massive crushes on a rock star/teen celebrity who is constantly in the tabloids, on the entertainment television shows -- basically the Justin Bieber of this movie's universe.  Well, Bieber before the drugs, eggs, hookers era.  The younger sister has zero interest in the guy or his music, and finds her sister's obsession with him annoying and ridiculous.

Nothing creepy so far, right?

The sisters and their family are going to go visit Grandma, who lives in California.  That's sweet.  Guess who else lives in California?  That's right, Rock Star!

There's something about a school dance -- I think the older sister and her BFF were selling tickets or something.  They give younger sister a hard time about "Why would you be going? You're like so not cool!".  Then comes the Big Reveal, or at least it was to me since I stopped watching right after this part.

Older sister and her BFF are obviously SuperFans when it comes to Rock Star.  You get that immediately in the movie.  Now you find out that these two have maybe crossed the line from SuperFans into Creepy Stalker Land.  They show the younger sister that they have been mapping everything about Rock Star from his own online updates, the tabloids, tv, etc.  They know where Rock Star parties, eats, which beach he likes to surf at -- you name it, they know it.  As if that wasn't a little creepy to begin with, they built a pop-up book/map thing of everywhere he goes and when he is usually there.  Older sister is planning to use this to track down and meet Rock Star when they go to California to visit Grandma.

WTF.  That is when I turned off the movie.

I'm going to assume, since this is after all a Disney flick, that it never goes beyond the realm of SuperFan. They know everything about Rock Star: where he goes, his favorite color, his birthday -- all the stuff every teen magazine reports religiously. Maybe Older Sis meets him, maybe she doesn't, but I'm guessing there won't be violence or restraining orders involved in the plot.  Maybe one of these days I will feel curious enough to watch the entire movie and find out.

In my opinion there is a very fine line between harmless SuperFan and Creepy Stalker Land. A SuperFan, when they meet the celebrity of their dreams, is going to either become completely tongue-tied and unable to believe said moment is finally upon them, or they are going to become a crying mess of happiness.  I base this on two things:  I know I personally would probably freeze up completely if I ever met a celebrity, and anyone who has ever watched television or YouTube has seen footage of people (generally teenage girls) crying and losing their minds in such situations.  Creepy Stalker Land winds up with your SuperFan being like Kathy Bates in the movie Misery.

It's got to be hard to be a celebrity, especially now.  Now your fans can follow you on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and find out so much information!  SuperFans can keep in contact with other SuperFans to compare info and keep up with whatever happens anywhere in the world involving their fave celebrity.  On top of that, there is paparazzi and sites like TMZ.  There is an entire E! network reporting on celebrities.  It has got to be next to impossible to have much privacy if you are a celebrity.

I find it kind of amazing that there are celebrities that actually do Meet & Greets/ autograph signings with their fans.  I'm aware that there is probably an insane amount of security at these events, but still.  The celebrity doesn't know what that next person in line is going to do.  Are they super-excited to take a picture with you?  Are they going to assume that since they know everything about you that you will somehow recognize them as a long-lost soul mate and freak the hell out when you don't?

Case in point:

I like the band R5.  I think they are great, they are a regular fixture on my workout playlist.  I follow them on Twitter and Instagram because they are awesome at posting photos from all of their tour stops all over the world. (Also, I really do not care whether you like them or not, or don't even know who they are. That is not the point.)

New Year's Eve 2013.  I did my thing, had some people over, had some drinks, Happy New Year!,  and went to bed.

I check Twitter the next morning-ish (Probably closer to afternoon.  Shush.).  Some people had posted some questionable sentiments in their not-entirely-sober state the night before.  Nothing crazy.  R5 had played a concert that night, so there were a couple of pictures that they posted.  Each had thousands of comments.  I'm thinking it is going to be fans wishing them a Happy New Year, or saying they were at the concert.  Normal stuff is what I am getting at.

Oh no.  Furthest thing from it.

Apparently shit went down at that concert.  I had no idea what happened, but there were girls (well, fans that I am assuming are mostly girls) losing their damn minds  in comments on Instagram and on Twitter.  They were were saying things like: they were crying hysterically, their world had been destroyed, Ross had broken their hearts.  I kid not you not.  WTF.  Did they just announce this was their final show or something?  Did Ross sacrifice a puppy on stage at midnight?

No.  Apparently he kissed a fan in the audience at midnight.  Not a girlfriend he had managed to keep secret from the fangirls, just a chick in the audience.  That was all it took for these ladies to snap.

So to try to bring this all around and back to having a point, SuperFans like the older sister in the movie exist.  They are online finding out every last detail about their favorite celebrities.  Privacy seems incredibly hard to maintain.  News travels insanely fast.  I'm sure there were already SuperFans out there doing the very same thing Older Sister and her BFF were doing in the movie.  I find it incredibly creepy to think that people would try to use that information to stalk their favorite celebrity, and a little disturbing to think that Disney might have unintentionally given some SuperFans a new idea.

Like I said, to me it is a fine line between SuperFan and Creepy Stalker Land.  You can like a band/celebrity and get your fangirl on over them.  It is another thing entirely to amass information on them and make it your mission in life to meet them, to make your world revolve around them.

**I'm aware that I am probably the only person who saw even part this movie and had this reaction to it.   My brain took one tiny part of the story and ran to a scary place with it.  If you actually read all the way through this, thanks.**  

Lucky Number 13

This flag will be coming down immediately.  People are taking it too literally.

I was lucky enough to have the day off today.  My big plans were to sit and relax with my coffee this morning, then go out shopping with my mother later.  Nothing fancy -- she needs decorations for the Moose Lodge, I need to track down candy to try to make candy sushi later this week for a cake.    I call my mother, we make plans, she'll drive and pick me up.  Stores are probably going to be crazy.

Around 11:45 I'm checking out Facebook, drinking coffee.  House is quiet, it's sunny so the lights aren't on. The cats are sleeping or watching the birds -- it's peaceful.

*Ding Dong*

I'm not expecting anyone other than my mother, and it is too early for her to be here.  I can see my front door from where I am on the laptop, and I see the silhouette of a woman in a coat and fancy hat at the door.  My mind immediately screams "Jehovahs!", as they are always nicely dressed when they show up.

Hell no, I'm not opening that door!

I freeze.  No movement will take place.  I shall play possum and hope she goes away.

*knock knock knock*

I duck behind the screen of the laptop, thankful that I wasn't listening to music or playing a game or on any kind of website that makes noise.

*swishhhh*

And something slides under the door, and I see her leave.

Not moving yet, and definitely not opening the door.  She could be lying in wait out there, like a ninja ready to silently pop out and get me.

10 minutes go by....

I creep into my bedroom to look out the window.  They are still there.  Their car is parked directly in front of my house.  Damn!

Grab the phone and creep to the back of my house, just to be sure they don't hear me and realize I am home.  I call my mother:

"Houston, we have a problem.  Jehovahs are encamped in front of my house.  Please delay leave time by at least 15 minutes.  We'll see if this obstacle removes itself."

Eventually their car leaves, about 10 minutes later.

I sneak out onto the front porch -- no sign of them or the car anywhere on the street.  I decide it is probably safe to bring the garbage and recycling cans back up from the street.  I grab the recycling can and make a break for the garage in the back.

No problems, and still no sign of them.  Lulled into a false sense of security, I wander back to the front to grab the garbage can.  Halfway back up the driveway I hear:  "Hello!  Hello Dear!"

I turn around and there it is, the car full of four ladies -- the ladies I have been avoiding.  It's stopped at the bottom of my driveway.  Shit.

I pause to assess the situation, and the driver says something, but I can't really hear it.  All I can make out is the word "library".  Oh fuck me, my cover is now blown.  So I head toward the car and tell them I didn't hear what they said.

Driver:  I said, you work at the library don't you?
Me: Yes I do.
Driver:  I thought I recognized you!
Me: *from the back, walking up my driveway?!  Creepy!*  Yup, you were right!
Driver:  Tell me, did you get the pamphlet that this lady left under your door?
Me: Yes I did.
Driver: Tell me, have you gotten one of these already?  Have other people been through here recently with this pamphlet?

Look familiar, folks?  

This would be the point where I mentally begin kicking myself, as apparently even when I am not at work I can't help but be a helpful source of information to people.  Also, I'm thinking at least one of my neighbors must be less than amused at the constant visits and told one of the ladies that they already had this material.  Probably in a nicer way than I would have.

Me:  Yes, actually.  I got one of those left under my door last week, I believe.
Driver:  Last week?
Me:  Day after Halloween.  I didn't see anyone, but I found it on my porch and it wasn't there the day before.
Driver: Huh.  Someone must have been here already.

And at that point I think I am off the hook.  I'd like to think there is some level of coordination that must have gone wrong, and someone didn't report back that they had tried to save my street already.

I start to back away, and the older lady in the passenger seat chirps up..

Lady: What are those symbols you are wearing on your neck, dear?
Me: *WTF.  Are we not done here?*  My necklaces?
Lady:  Yes, that top one in particular.

These would be the "symbols" being discussed.

Me:  It's a crow.  See?  *And now I have to move back up to the car, and turn it sideways so she can see it is a crow's head.*

Lady:  Oh.  I didn't realize that.  And what's that other one, a turtle?

Me: Yes, it's a turtle.  I like crows and turtles.

Lady:  Oh.  They're...nice.

Me: Thanks! *smile*

Lady: Well, we have to be going now.

Me: Have a nice day!

And as they pulled away I swear I heard her say something about my "symbols" meaning something.

So now I have probably offered proof that I am the Spawn of Satan, and my "symbols" are probably a sign that I am in a cult, or a witch, or the like.  Awesome.  I'm sure that won't make them come back even more to try saving me. Added bonus that it can now be awkward as hell when the patron comes to the library and we both try not to acknowledge her little visit to my house.

And that, friends, is the story of my thirteenth visit by the Jehovah's Witnesses in three years.  

You Think My Blog Is Sexy?

(AKA  Never Look Too Closely at the Info Blogger Provides in the Stats)

WARNING:  DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK, OR WITH SMALL, IMPRESSIONABLE CHILDREN LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER,  OR IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY BAD LANGUAGE, OR DISCUSSIONS OF SEX AND THE INTERNET.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, I ADVISE YOU STOP READING NOW AND GO ELSEWHERE.

When you have a blog on Blogger, like this one, you can get all kinds of cool stats -- things that I would not have the slightest idea how to compile on my own.  

Normally I just look at how many views each post gets.  I still get very excited  that people are actually reading this thing.  I’ve only ever gotten two comments left on my blog, one of which is complete spammy garbage, but I leave it up as it is one of my two precious comments.  The little things amuse and excite me.

When looking at the stats recently, I decided to click on the “Traffic Sources” for my blog.  Never, ever do this unless you are prepared to be amazed and/or horrified by the results!  It will show you the Top Referring URLs, Top Referring Sites, and the Top Search Keywords that brought people to your blog.  It also tells you how many times each of them were used.  Pretty cool.

Facebook and it’s mobile version being #1 for Referring URL and site was no surprise.  I post a link to the blog on Facebook when  I write something new.  I want people to be able to click on it and read my ramblings.  So hurrah for that seeming to work!

Then it got strange.

One of the Top Referring Sites I had never heard of before.  I’m not going to list it here -- you do NOT need the surprise I got when I clicked on the link.  I, naively, judged it on it’s URL and thought it was going to be a website like www.meetup.com -- a legit page that people use for book clubs, writing workshops, coffee groups, etc.  The URL had a similar name.  I thought maybe it was for blogging, that’s why so many people had been referred from the site.  Makes sense, right?

Wrong!

I clicked on the link and was greeted by a big picture of a naked woman with “FREE SEX” written above her head.  OMGWTF!?!

I closed that shit down immediately, no lie.

Then I kind of freaked out and texted someone who actually reads my blog and is internet-savvy to tell him of my discovery.  Because OMG Why?  How? What?

I went to take another look at the stats, thinking maybe some kind of pop-up had hijacked my browser. That is when I noticed the top entry for search terms that had brought people to my blog.

“My husband in bathroom fuck me q…”

Fuck me what? Quickly?  Quietly?  Are you in the bathroom with your husband?  Is your husband in the bathroom and you are hiding somewhere else with another man (or woman)?

I have no idea.  That’s where the keyword search trails off.  4 times that keyword search has brought people to my blog! 4! More people have found my blog searching that particular phrase than have by actually typing in the web address.  I kid you not -- I’ve seen the numbers.

I really can’t understand how or why.  That particular phrase has never been used anywhere on my blog (well, until just now).  I may drop the f-bomb on occasion.  I have written about my bathroom twice: once with a middle-of-the-night toilet repair, and once when I thought my mouthwash might be eating my sink and creating a sinkhole.  I also have never written about the husband that I do not have.  I’m still confused as to how my blog got associated with that phrase.  I’m chalking it up to the marvels of the internet.

I would like to apologize to what I can only imagine are a lot of very disappointed people.  

I’m so sorry.

You got pointed here thinking you were going to find some free sex or erotic stories or the like.  You got my blog instead.  I write about creepy deer, a certain religious group’s unending campaign to try to convert me, people dumpster diving like it is a new sport, and random weirdness that only seems to happen to me (like being accused of stealing my own identity while trying to buy cough syrup).

My apologies.  From the number of hits there are many people who are disappointed out there….

Or else you found my blog by accident the first time, you actually like it, and keep coming back?  I like to think my blog is smart and amusing -- those are sexy qualities in a person.  Maybe, a la Justin Timberlake, my blog is bringing sexy back?

Probably not.

**It has been pointed out to me that this particular post might actually end up getting me more traffic from the websites mentioned above.  I guess we shall see what the stats have to say!