Wednesday, January 5, 2011

We're watching you...

I have a confession to make. I'm addicted to analytics. It's sad (and slightly nerdy), but it's also very true. Seriously, as sick as this may sound, every day I wake up, have a cup of coffee, and log into mkromd to read and reply to your comments. Then I log into a back-end tool that allows me to see:
• What URLs are sending traffic to me (e.g. Facebook and Google).
• Which search terms people are using to find me (e.g. george carlin + my karma ran over my dogma).
• Where the people who read mkromd are geographically located (e.g. US, Canada, etc).

They're not person specific, I promise. It's way more generic and high-level than that. But it’s an addiction I’m forced to feed. At any rate, a couple weeks ago, during the Horray for Heifer drive, I reviewed my site stats and saw the funniest search string... EVER. How it brought them to mkromd, I have NO idea.

It said, "best nude babe touching boobs."

Now, for those of you who know me, and many of you do, I am by no means the best nude babe on the Internet. In fact, I’m only naked under my clothes, and as for the whole “touching boobs” thing… the only time I touch my boobs is to scoop them up and put them into a bra. Middle age is cruel. And… to prove my point, a while ago... before I went home to Appalachia for the holidays... I was standing in my bathroom… looking in the mirror… talking on the phone to my mom... and asking her how old she was when her face started sliding down her face.

She didn’t even have the decency to pause. She simply said, “About your age.”

After I thanked her for that touching mother-daughter bonding moment, I texted TB and said, “Let’s go drink like men then shop like women.” Now this is nothing new for us. There’s a restaurant near our mall that serves fabulous margaritas, so we went to dinner, had a few drinks, and walked over to Ann Taylor and Banana Republic.

The good news is that I found a GORGEOUS dress for a great price. The bad news is that it was a size two. TB, being the true best friend that she is… looked at me and said, “Are you too drunk to read the tag? It's a SIZE TWO.” After I reminded her that she was a bitch but I loved her anyway, I took it into the dressing room and proceeded to try it on. Around twenty minutes and a hundred expletives later, I got the damn thing on. It looked obscene... but I got it on. The problem is that I couldn’t get it off.

I had to ask TB to come into the dressing room and help me.

Do you know that she actually walked in… saw me… and walked out. She abandoned me. After a decade of codependent, dignity-compromising moments, she left me there to fend for myself. And worse than that, I could hear her laughing… from the FRONT OF THE STORE. Being the great best friend that I am, I called her cell phone and said, “Get your skinny ass back here and get me out of this dress, or I swear to God - I will wear it to the register and buy it, and you will have to walk back to your car with me looking like this.” Needless to say, she was back before I could hang up.

This is how you know you have the right best friend. Well, that and what happened next.

She literally stood on the dressing room bench, bent me over, and put her foot on my head to push me out of that fucking thing. I swear it was designed by Kafka. So there we were, trying to peel me out of this dress, when she said… “Sorry sweetie, you’re stuck. The good news is that it totally shows off your back-cleavage.” The saddest part of this WHOLE story is that she was right. I honestly looked like a human push-me, pull-me. It was so tight that, while I may have looked like a C cup in the front, I definitely looked like a D cup in the back. Anyway, I’m pleased to report that we were successful (eventually).

But I digress…

The point is this: Irony is as cruel as karma, and they often go hand-in-hand. Because - now, when some hormonal fifteen year old boy DOES Google "best nude babe touching boobs," he won't get pictures of a drunken twenty-one year old co-ed from "Girls Gone Wild." Instead, he will be directed to mkromd... a blog about mid-life crisis women gone crazy... which can ALSO be found by using the search string, "lesbians + shaved head." And these boys
will have no one to blame but themselves if they're traumatized.

Talk to you next week.

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