It was nice to know that once on Technorati I was at 88 thousand. Then I dropped to 134 thousand. Moving my blog means I start over. This blog ranks at 8,911,336. Yes, that is 8.9 million. How does one go from 88 thousand to 8.9 million in so little time? Scrappers. Damn dirty scrappers, that’s how. No worries, I scratched and clawed my way to the upper top of Technorati once and I’ll do it again.
As I contacted this and that person I began thinking again about how my system as a whole rather takes pride in telling on one another. The thing is, if I ever commit a crime (again) and I’m taken before a judge my system WILL tell on me. They know nothing about all for one and one for all when it comes to keeping our little crime secrets. I can just hear us now. “Joan did it. I saw her. I even took notes. You can find it on our blog and on that one guys blog too.” We really do tell on each other like that. For some reason we know nothing about holding our tongue when it comes to tattling. If I say, “Hey, who ate the cookies and didn’t leave me any?” I’ll hear name after name of who partook of the goodies. “It was Maureen. At 2PM EST she walked into the kitchen in her house slippers and ate your cookies. Then Robert went in around, let me check my notes, around 2:15 and had some too, followed by……” I have no idea why we do that but we do. It’s not like anyone is going to be in trouble or anything. What am I going to do, send them to their own private corner of my mind to think about what they’ve done? No. So it makes no sense to me why we are all so willing to tell on one another.
Since the statue of limitations is surely up by now I might as well go ahead and set the record straight on my early years of breaking and entering. Well, let me just say that my mother was the type that didn’t believe in sugar. She read that horrible book called “Sugar Blues” like it was Scripture. We had no sweets what so ever so I had to take it upon myself to get it. Let me back up, she had us so scared of sugar early on that we were convinced that it was poison. Once in the store I asked her why people were so willing to buy a 5lb bag of poison. That’s when it became obvious to me that this type of poison didn’t kill you. You could buy it in large quantities and live. Thus began my curiosity. But where would I try out this poison? All we had was that health food stuff, you know the fake licorice and cookies w/ no sugar, carob based products and other foods sure to bring horrible flashbacks in the form of indigestion. Fortunetly for me my neighbors were stocked on this white powder poison. All I had to do was get to it. Back then people still felt safe leaving their doors open. It was okay to do that even in the early 80’s where I lived. Well, while this unsuspecting family went on a picnic or whatever I broke into their house (they left it unlocked, no breaking required) and helped myself to the Little Debbie’s. I was hooked. My first real taste of sugar was in the 4th grade and I was hooked. I was in love and her name was Little Debbie. So, when ever that family put on their bonnets and left the house I paid them a little visit.
You know how when you were a kid your parents would ask who ate such and such? You’d say you didn’t know then they’d say, “Oh I guess someone broke in and ate it” or “I guess someone broke in and did that.” There is at least one child in America who wasn’t lying when he said, “I guess so cause it wasn’t me.”
It was Joan. I saw her do it…… Guilty. Guilty as charged!
In other news on the grossly unjust ways of the world, here is a short letter to a friend of a friend:
Dear Friend of a friend,
No, I’m sorry but I won’t watch your child for 12 hours, feed him at my own cost and get only $15 for it. I could go to a sweatshop and make more.
Sincerely,
Your friend’s friend who isn’t that desperate
What is wrong with people and all of me? I don’t understand it. I really don’t. I’ve never seen so many people drunk with stupidity.
July 20th - July 27th BUY ONE GET ONE HALF OFF of equal or lessor value. Your bill will reflect the discount.
Postcards excluded.
I just moved to a new domain. It’s awful to see the numbers disappear. But it has surprised me how quickly they are finding their balance again. I’m going to go and add you to my blogroll and Technorati faves and give you a link and “Stumble” you. All of which I was going to do anyway. All that hard work you’ve done will get you back to where you were in a jiffy.
Oooohhh, you are too kind. Thanks for the search engine pump.
Austin
I like your new site. I got you linked with the new url on my blog. There was a time that my blog was in the top 50,000. Now, I don’t know where I am, but it says “not in top 100,000.” I don’t even look anymore. Pooey on it. I do go to Technorati once in a while to see who I can give reciprocal links to and find people who might be interested in the blog carnival, but that’s about it.
You know a lot more about Technorati than I do. I looked at where my book was regarding sales at Amazon.com and its #1 million something. I wish that means I’d sold a million copies! Then I’d be a happy camper!
Your mother and my parents shared that whole “sugar is evil” thing. When I was 3 years old I can remember going every Friday with my parents and getting a chocolate ice cream cone. It was a special treat. Then suddenly, no more chocolate ice cream because Sugar Is Evil. When I was a child I tried to be obedient but as a teen I rebelled in more ways than one. I would gorge on sugar whenever I could find it. Surprise–I developed an eating disorder.
When I had my son I resolved to take a more rational approach. While I really wish the lad would eat more vegetables, he does have a much healthier relationship with food than I did. He eats when he’s hungry and stops eating when he’s full. Sometimes he eats a lot of candy but most of the time he doesn’t. Sometimes he eats big meals but usually he eats numerous small meals. I envy him but also have to be proud of myself that I “done good” at teaching him to listen to his body when it comes to food. My hunger cues are completely gone. I don’t know when to stop eating. While nobody forces the fork to my mouth, I do hold my parents somewhat responsible for teaching me this dysfunctional relationship with food.