That Time I Was Funny

Aunt Becky bemoaned the fact that web media groups don’t recognize blogs like hers ours (ie, blogs that say “fuck” a lot).  I read this and thought waaaaaaaa.  The Bloggies don’t pay attention to you and that’s sad because this is coming from a person who has 6,924 Twitter followers.  Know how many followers I have?  Twenty.  Okay, fine, she follows me, but she follows a lot of people because she knows how to rock the Internet.  She has a ton of readers and still isn’t getting nominated for any awards, which, obviously, is never going to be one of my problems, so I was like “and what are you complaining about, again?”

Then I remembered once of my preoccupations and thought “Self, you can be a real asshole sometimes.”

(Also, “Self, what the fuck is wrong with your run-on sentences?”)

I had my old blog* for three and a half years.  During that time, I got upwards of 250,000 views.  There were a couple of weeks kind of towards the end where I got over 1,000 views a day.  Stephanie once told me that views go exponentially up when someone RSS’s your blog, so maybe that was it.  In any case, there was some joy in Nerdville that week.

One of the reasons I waited so long to move to another site was because I originally had plans to export all my old entries, but no blog server in the world does that.  Seriously, they don’t.  I like my own writing and all, but even I don’t have the patience to copy-paste more than three years of near-daily writing.

Another reason I waited was because I knew I’d lose some readers.  The Internet is a funny thing, and even people who have been blog stalking you for years will lose interest when a new URL is involved.  It’s, um, hard to bookmark a new link or something.  My monthly views have climbed steadily with each month I reside on Blog City and I am aware that I might be being kind of a pain in the ass by publicly letting this bother me, but 9 months and only 31,000 views later, I sort of miss MySpace.

This is not to say I don’t appreciate the people who come here.  I don’t know who most of you are or why you find anything I say to be amusing, but thanks.  I mean it.  I know I’m not going to get famous, rich, or even just barely respectable with this blog, so it means a lot that some people keep coming back to see me make a fool of myself on the Internet.

(Especially thanks to the people who find me from really odd places like the “vagina care” section of, or by Googling stuff like “can I feed expired yogurt to kittens” and “work makes me want to drink” and, somehow, “horse fuck.”)

Please come in.  Stay awhile.  Here, have a beer.  I have dozens.  We can watch Netflix Instant on the Wii together because IT IS THE AWESOMEST.

I would like to know, however, why none of my evangelically-raised friends ever told me about Hell Houses?  Dudes, those are INSANE.  Way cooler than anything the nuns tried scaring me with.  I can’t believe Graham knew about them – he was raised as Catholic as I was – and I didn’t, but thankfully Netflix Instant has a documentary all about them.

*If you’re new here and want to flip through the archives, you’ll have to go back to when I wasn’t pimping Ephemera Etc.  Start here** and then click on “Older Posts” at the bottom left of the last entry.  Yeah, that hyperlink you can barely see because of the background I chose.  It looks like a fancy whorehouse!

**If you want to read the old stuff, I mean, and I totally understand if you don’t.***

***But if you do, I should tell you that I started reading my old stuff and realized that Pre-September 2009 Me was way funnier than Present Day Me.  So I’m sorry you new people got the boring version.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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