You Say It’s Your Birthday?
It’s my birthday, too! Or, more accurately, it is the tenth anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday. I think I’m holding up pretty well for having celebrated that particular milestone ten times now. Well, eleven times if you want to be specific. You all know what that means, don’t you? I’m knocking on the door to the big 4-0; I predict that, this time next year I will be prostrate on the ground crying for my lost youth and bemoaning my sad entry into middle age.
But, that’s next year, this year I’m going to party like its 1999, which, incidentally, was the second anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday. Rock on!
Wow! I sound remarkably chipper this morning. One would think that I have completely gotten over the fact that my dog died yesterday. I haven’t but, humor is my defense mechanism and my birthday present to myself is a day without tears so, let’s think happy thoughts!
You know what I always find amusing? Dissecting my stats and, particularly, Google search terms that bring people to this blog; the most prevalent being searches for information on the Miss Congeniality movie, starring everyone’s favorite girl next door, Sandra Bullock.
Questions regarding the care and feeding of Amish Friendship Bread feature highly as well and, what can I say people; I sucked at the Friendship Bread, please for the love of the Plain People, find a more reliable source of information. That said; to the individual who Googled the phrase “Is my friendship bread doomed?” Yes, yes it is.
And, all you poor souls who got here because you were searching for Tooth Fairy letterhead (and, Christ on a cracker, there are a lot of you); I sympathize with your plight because, yeah, been there, done that, didn’t get the tee-shirt but I did create the letterhead and, if you email me I might just part with a PDF file. You’re welcome and, never fear, you are not a terrible parent. You are a sucky Tooth Fairy but it appears, we are legion.
A few misguided souls found this blog by searching for Hugh Boobies and I, um, yeah….I have no words. My Hugh doesn’t have boobies because he is a man. If he had boobies they would be Man Boobs or Moobies if you will and, um, he doesn’t so, move along you pervs.
Three people arrived via a search for Elephantigo. My advice; see a doctor, folks.
Searches for OPI nail polish landed a number of people here as well and, hello y’all! State your name and admit your addiction; it’s the first step in the recovery process.
I had one search for Debbie Feiger. If that was my Debbie, hey girlfriend! Where you been since the second grade? Call me!
Some of the search terms that have landed people here are so bizarre, I am lost for an explanation but, for the most part I find the process quite humorous and today it has proven to be quite a good distraction from my depression.
Now, with just a smidgen of Retail Therapy courtesy of the gift card bestowed upon me by my colleagues plus a bite (or ten) of the pink frosted donut that they presented to me this morning; I’ll be all good to go.
I can think of far worse ways to spend the anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday.