People really do like sex
I just looked at my site meter and I can't help but notice that lately my site has been lower on visitors than usual and then when I mention Lindsay Lohan having loud sex in my dream it spikes up quite a bit. Is that because many of my Internet friends just coincidentally came back from various breaks and vacations abroad, or that random people stopped by to hear about Lindsay and raunchy dreams? (So disappointing, I know. Quel drag!)
I'm not blogging for the numbers, in case anyone is wondering, I do it for other way more serious and important and noble reasons, but I can't deny that watching your numbers can be very addicting and fascinating. Plus, in my new stage of poverty I am more than ever seriously thinking of adding ads to my site. Not to annoy you all, but to bring in a few extra paltry pennies, which is what I'm afraid it would amount to with the small traffic I get. Can you blame me for wondering how Dooce managed to get so much traffic that she supports her family by blogging? Do you realize what a total dream that would be for me to achieve? That right there is the dream life. I would way rather blog for a living than try to get articles of mine printed elsewhere. I think blogging is way fresher and immediate and, do you get it yet? I'M A FAN.
Future Girl said she thought that in the beginning there was quite a lot of mention of sex and then when she got fired that created even more interest...well, that won't help me. You can't get fired when you aren't technically employed, and being all boring about sex (like not engaging in it all that frequently) and being more likely to talk about other people having raunchy sex than myself, that doesn't seem like a good option either. Mom O Matic has the best in-bed dialogs with her husband that totally crack me up and she has a lot of traffic too. There seems to be something in that.
Would anyone around here mind if I became a career blogger? Another person who's taken her blog really far and has a whole lot of traffic and now even has a book out is Crazy Aunt Purl. She hardly ever mentions anything racy and yet she is doing very well with her writing. But you know what the hugest difference between Dooce, Crazy Aunt Purl, and Mom O Matic is with me and my writing? They are always funny, I am not. They are consistently funny ladies.
Ah well. They also don't climb quite as deeply into life's shit as I do. They don't drag people through Falkner-esque land. People like to avoid feeling like they're sinking into a Carsen McCullers life where limbs start mysteriously shriveling and everyone is dating the same Catholic Priest. Or if they find themselves trapped in dusty desperate landscape, they want to be able to find the laughter there, or at least be relieved with some honest racy talk. That's a real gift. I have my moments of laughing through the dust, but it comes and goes randomly. There are posts I've written that can still crack me up every time I read them, even though I wrote them myself, but more often than not I just think "Oh lord, here we go again..."
Even if I never get to blog for a living, you wanna know what I love? I love my little world here. I look forward to hearing from all the blog friends I've made, and in fact, I get pathetically sad when I don't hear from some of you for long stretches while your own life demands the attention it deserves. I am amused at how much my mom doesn't get how I can spend so much time here with people I've never met.
I'm in danger of getting very unattractively mushy and I can't stand that. It makes me feel kind of queasy to get all gushy. So with that, do any of you mind if I make up salacious stories about you publicly whenever I feel like it? (That should restore the balance of piss and vinegar to the sugary sentiments I came dangerously close to spilling.)
Damn, I'm still in my pajamas and my friend Lisa E. will be here any second to make ratatouille.
I'm not blogging for the numbers, in case anyone is wondering, I do it for other way more serious and important and noble reasons, but I can't deny that watching your numbers can be very addicting and fascinating. Plus, in my new stage of poverty I am more than ever seriously thinking of adding ads to my site. Not to annoy you all, but to bring in a few extra paltry pennies, which is what I'm afraid it would amount to with the small traffic I get. Can you blame me for wondering how Dooce managed to get so much traffic that she supports her family by blogging? Do you realize what a total dream that would be for me to achieve? That right there is the dream life. I would way rather blog for a living than try to get articles of mine printed elsewhere. I think blogging is way fresher and immediate and, do you get it yet? I'M A FAN.
Future Girl said she thought that in the beginning there was quite a lot of mention of sex and then when she got fired that created even more interest...well, that won't help me. You can't get fired when you aren't technically employed, and being all boring about sex (like not engaging in it all that frequently) and being more likely to talk about other people having raunchy sex than myself, that doesn't seem like a good option either. Mom O Matic has the best in-bed dialogs with her husband that totally crack me up and she has a lot of traffic too. There seems to be something in that.
Would anyone around here mind if I became a career blogger? Another person who's taken her blog really far and has a whole lot of traffic and now even has a book out is Crazy Aunt Purl. She hardly ever mentions anything racy and yet she is doing very well with her writing. But you know what the hugest difference between Dooce, Crazy Aunt Purl, and Mom O Matic is with me and my writing? They are always funny, I am not. They are consistently funny ladies.
Ah well. They also don't climb quite as deeply into life's shit as I do. They don't drag people through Falkner-esque land. People like to avoid feeling like they're sinking into a Carsen McCullers life where limbs start mysteriously shriveling and everyone is dating the same Catholic Priest. Or if they find themselves trapped in dusty desperate landscape, they want to be able to find the laughter there, or at least be relieved with some honest racy talk. That's a real gift. I have my moments of laughing through the dust, but it comes and goes randomly. There are posts I've written that can still crack me up every time I read them, even though I wrote them myself, but more often than not I just think "Oh lord, here we go again..."
Even if I never get to blog for a living, you wanna know what I love? I love my little world here. I look forward to hearing from all the blog friends I've made, and in fact, I get pathetically sad when I don't hear from some of you for long stretches while your own life demands the attention it deserves. I am amused at how much my mom doesn't get how I can spend so much time here with people I've never met.
I'm in danger of getting very unattractively mushy and I can't stand that. It makes me feel kind of queasy to get all gushy. So with that, do any of you mind if I make up salacious stories about you publicly whenever I feel like it? (That should restore the balance of piss and vinegar to the sugary sentiments I came dangerously close to spilling.)
Damn, I'm still in my pajamas and my friend Lisa E. will be here any second to make ratatouille.