An Open Letter to People Who Find My Blog Accidentally

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Listen, I am really sorry.

You are aware, aren't you, that if you get here based on a search through Google, I can see that? Because I can. And sometimes it's boring, like people searched for "Lucy's Football," and whatever. But then there are the people that got here via alternate routes, and it is you I am addressing.

This is not at all what you were looking for, based on the search items you input into Google. I can't even imagine what your response is when you get here and you realize you've stumbled into the random insane musings of someone you don't know, who has no authority about any topic at all whatsoever, and who just blathers on and on about topics that aren't at all what you were looking for.

I feel really bad. I can't really figure out what caused you to click, but, since I'm a giver (I am! I'm totally a giver. Like this morning, I gave someone attitude because they were being a douchebag? And tonight, I gave someone a really, really dirty look for sitting in front of me at the movie theater when there were a ton of other open seats he could have just as easily taken and he was like a million feet tall, what the hell? But then he got up, and a family of short children took his seat, which I attribute to karma! See? You give, and the universe gives back. It's like a wheel! The wheel in the sky that keeps on turnin'!) I thought I at least owed it to you to try to answer the question that brought you to my blog. So, this is for you, People Who Came Here Accidentally. You are so welcome. I don't expect thanks, or gifts, but you know what, if you want to give them to me, I can't see myself turning them down, or anything, I mean, who turns down free gifts? There's a saying about that, and everything, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth." And if one of you wanted to give me a pony, well, yeah, because I'm curious what the fuss is all about, I'd look it in the mouth, but I'd also keep it. Because I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings. Also, I like pets.

To the person who came here by searching for "things I expect to see in the shower pie chart":

Hi! I don't have anything like that here. I have a pie chart about whores vs. horses. Perhaps you found that? And were confused? Sorry. I don't know why, exactly, you think a pie chart would be the best thing to quantify the things you'd find in your shower. I'd think a list would suffice? And I don't know if you were honestly curious, or if this is a new pervy thing, because I'm kind of sheltered like that and often find out things like "golden showers means peeing and people get turned on by it" and then I cringe about the state of humanity because how is that sexy and not just a messy cleaning nightmare? Or are you going to go on Family Feud soon and are boning up on America's top 100 answers for things like this?

But like I said, I'm a giver. So, as a gift to you, pie chart guy, here is what you were looking for.

There! Are you totally stoked now? You know what's in my shower! And you could win at Family Feud! And you know I am the most boring person alive! If you need this for a school project or something and were looking for a shortcut, so you didn't have to do it on your own? Here. I give this to you. My gift to you, my friend. I can call you that, right? Because you read my blog? We are totally buds now, right? And if you are pervert, well, go on and imagine me in the shower, then. But I can assure you there's nothing sexy about it. On average, I cut myself 76 times while shaving my legs. I look like I shave with a weed whacker. All turned on NOW, my friend? I thought not.

To the person who came here by searching for "that task because I can":

That is deep. Is is a song lyric? Because I often write down a bit of a song lyric and then put it into Google to see if I can find out who sang it. But if not, well, here, I will be your cheering squad, because that's what I DO. That task? YOU TOTALLY CAN. I know it, because I read this book to my nephew when I was home last time? And it was about this train filled with toys for children, a preponderance of which were clowns? And the train broke down, and I said, "Yay, now the children will be able to sleep, because they won't have to keep one eye open waiting for the clown dolls to rise up and murder them!" and my nephew said, "No, I THINK I CAN" and so I kept reading and apparently the trains could TALK (I know, anthropomorphizing is a little creepy) and the broke-ass train was all "help me!" to every train that went by but the other trains were all "we are too snooty no thanks, clown transport of death" and then a little train came by and said, "Well, I think I'd like to give it a go" because she (yeah, it was a SHE, deal with it, there are girl trains, where do you think model trains come from if there aren't two sexes of trains? Sheesh) wasn't coulrophobic and then there were a lot of hills and to get herself over the hill she'd say "I think I can I think I can I think I can" and my nephew LOVES THAT PART SO MUCH OMG he was chugging and cheering and that was kind of a thing I loved, because who doesn't love the best smartest awesomest nephew in the world cheering for a little literary train? Heartless soulless people who are dead inside, that's who. And then I think the train probably succeeded but I'm not sure because my nephew got overstimulated, what with all of the cheering and such, and threw the book at a mirror. But I'm sure it ended well with a clown under every child's bed or in their closet! And that's why I know you, person who came here by searching for that task because I can, CAN. You can! If the little engine that could, um, could, well, hell, you can. I know you can. I have all the faith in the world in you.

To the person who came here by searching for "what can make me whole" TWICE:

Oh, honey. Nothing. Nothing can. Things that you might think can:

Food
Sex
Alcohol
A boy or girlfriend
Role-playing games, both in and out of bed
Working too hard
Drugs
Stalking someone because they have the potential of being your "missing piece"
Self-help books
Obsessing journalling

But they cannot. They can temporarily fill a void, but that's not going to help. Also, hi! Thanks for stopping by! And I hope that I was able to, for a minute, "make you whole?" And I suppose, admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery? But I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that you probably are already pretty ok. Here's something I've learned in my years on this earth: I don't know you, but you seem like a nice Googler, so I'm going to share this with you. Ready?

You might be fucked up, but everyone else is so fucked up, they probably don't even notice.

This rule doesn't hold as true in high school, where everyone points out everyone else's flaws in order to draw attention away from their own, much like a nice hat draws attention away from a huge mole, or something. But in real life? You're probably pretty whole. Society conspires to make us feel like we're not. You're ok. We're all ok. Is this shitty advice? Sorry. Um, I wrote an entry about porn once. Maybe that can make you whole, what the hell do I know.

To the person who came here by searching for "dating blogspot":

I assume you were looking for dating advice? Or were you looking for someone TO date? Well! Now I'm going to assume the latter. Yay! Here is my CV. Wait, you know what CV means, right? If you don't, we're already broken up. I'll just assume you do. I mean, only totally cultured and awesome and sexy individuals would want to date me!

Things I bring to the table:

I hate most people, places and things
I cuss constantly
I never like to go anywhere or do anything fun
I am working all the time so am never available to hang out
I hate the phrase "hang out"
I don't like being touched so probably sex wouldn't be an option, hope that's ok
I have cats that I don't talk to in baby voices but they will always trump you, importance-wise
I hate all sports and you can't watch them in my house
My online friends are more important than you are, too, deal with it
You will never live up to the ideal man I have in my head, so don't even bother, you'll come out lacking
I'm usually in a really bitchy mood, except when I'm sad or manic
I have zero fashion sense, like, I'm embarrassing to take places, I'm so mismatched
I'm very possessive about my stuff, so don't touch anything without written permission

So! When are we going out?

To the person who came here by searching for "love for football":

Listen, I am really sorry about that. I know. The title of my blog is totally misleading. It's not a football reference. I don't know anything ABOUT football. I mean, I know there's a football, and there's something about yards, and touchdowns, but honestly, the only thing I know is it CONSTANTLY runs over into The Amazing Race and I HATE that. I named my blog because of an essay I wrote almost twenty years ago that I'll talk about someday. So yeah, I know, I probably really confused the hell out of you. I'm sorry. Um, here. Touchdown! Hut! Hut! Hail Mary pass! That guy that fought pitbulls that one time and now he plays football again! Better?

To the person who came here via the Montel Williams Wikipedia page:

I honestly don't know what to even say about this. There is no link on that page to my site. I think this is the first time I've mentioned Montel Williams, and unless this is a grand plan by the Montel Williams people to get themselves back into the public eye by somehow linking themselves into people's stats and hoping someone writes a crazy post until almost midnight because they went to see the last Harry Potter movie alone until 10pm and realized son of a BITCH I didn't write a blog post today what the hell am I going to talk about today man that movie made me cry a lot I should go have some water or something because I think I might be dehydrated DAMN YOU ADULT ONSET ADD hey I know! then I think their plan is a little far-fetched. I don't know how you got here, Montel Williams person, honestly. I am as confused as you are. I know nothing about Montel Williams. He has a disease, I think? And used to be like a Jerry Springer-like guy? I think there were paternity tests involved? Sorry. I am of no help. Godspeed in your search for answers, Montel Williams person!

To the person who came here by searching for Eric Stoltz:

Hands off my man, Sally Strumpet.

So, in conclusion, People Who Have Found my Blog Accidentally, welcome! I know you are probably confused; I hope I have helped you on your journey somewhat. If not, well, sorry about that. Except the Montel Williams person. I really just don't know what to say to you.

Love, Me.

(Thank you to my wonderful friend Mer for our conversation about our mutual obsession with stats that led to this post!)