wordpress

My Birthday Gift From WordPress

Forty years ago today, I made my arrival into the world.

Little did the world know that nearly 40 years later, that little darling baby girl would write about post about gonorrhea tonsils and see it get Freshly Pressed.

Did the delivery doctor have an inkling? Say when he cut the umbilical cord, that one day that red, slimy, mutant-looking screaming thing would craft a post that not only combined a fear of potatoes with STD-infected tonsils, but would also be able to insert the words “27 vaginas?”

Probably not. That’s kind of a weird thing to think about a baby.

Still this was a nice early present from the WordPress staff.

I promise my new readers that I write about other things besides venereal diseases although tomorrow’s post will make it seem like I just lied.

In fact, I just checked my search engine terms and am intrigued by this idea: chuck e cheese birther.

That seems about right.

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the fifteenth post. Halfway there. Lord help us all.  

Do Not Fear Potatoes

Seven people found my blog yesterday using those search terms: do not fear potatoes.

Do people really fear potatoes? According to some random seach engine question and answer thingy, there’s not even a word for potato phobia.

The second most asked question about potato fear was this:

I didn’t realize I wrote much about potatoes, and I have no idea how entering those terms would lead a person to my blog. But since you’re here, I want you to know this–

Potatoes make good detectives . . . because they always have their eyes peeled.

*swish*

Oh–and you shouldn’t fear them. Feel better?

Well you may want to fear that one. That one is definitely not sweet.

I’m hoping now that I’ve mentioned “do not fear potatoes” a number of times, this blog will appear higher in the results for that extremely popular search.

This is why I’m now also mentioning my second most popular search terms from yesterday: gonorrhea tonsils.

This is actually a thing, I am horrified to have found out. It is contracted by putting your mouth on something that has gonorrhea.

Like a potato? you wonder, your fear of them beginning to resurface.

No, probably not. Really, you do not need to fear potatoes.

Only in this instance:

While I may not be an expert in this particular area, my advice to you is to refrain from putting your mouth on something soaked with gonorrhea.

Most of my other search terms had to do with Fifty Shades of Grey. There was one that stuck out from the pack.

I believe this is the title of a new rom-com starring Katherine Heigl. I cannot wait to see it. I think Gerard Butler plays one of the vaginas.

If you search for 27 types of vagina, my blog comes up pretty high in the results as does an article about 8 types of vagina from a man’s perspective, which I would only recommend reading if you contracted tonsil gonorrhea from potato salad. You’re already feeling pretty bad at that point.

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the thirteenth post. She does not fear potatoes, but does fear gonorrhea tonsils. 

Le Cult of Le Clown

I am a full-fledged carnie, I’ll admit it.

I pretty much do the bidding of a French-Canadian clown who can flex a singular ab muscle like nobody’s business.

Why do I do this?

I think it’s safe to say that I’m in a cult…or rather le cult. Le cult of le clown. I think that’s how French works; you put a “le” in front of everything and ruin freedom fries.

Le Clown first appeared on the presses of word back in February and the wordpresses have not been the same since. I believe his first post was:

“WordPress no longer sucks.”

I might have made that up, but who has time to research when you’re writing a post every day?

Le Clown professes that every day is fucking magical, and I believe it. Even when my slice of pizza fell on the dirty floor a couple days ago and I had nothing else to eat but a jar of pureed turkey and sweet potato, I felt pissed off the magic.

Le Clown can write anything, literally anything, and 200 people will show up to comment about his magnificence™. (He’s also trademarked the word magnificent™)

He could write:

“Poop is magical.”

And it will be pressed fresher than a steaming pile of cow manure–that’s just how powerful his reach is. And you know what? Poop is magical.

What is Le Clown’s greatest gift?

Well apart from his incredible charisma, he gives the gift of viewership. He features you on his site, and suddenly you have 30 new followers. It’s almost as if you, yourself, have become a cult leader.

You feel that way until a half-man puppet named Hugo reminds you of your place on the food chain. Never join le cult of le Hugo, by the way.

Le Clown recently launched a new venture, a press releases page that highlights blog posts featuring his le clowness. I am not on there, and I made it my Life Goal 2: Electric Boogaloo to rectify that grevious injustice.

Which leads me now to present the greatest interview in the history of interviews. I should know, I used to work as a reporter and got to interview the local dairy princess.

Without further ado, Speaker7 presents™ Five Questions with His Magnificence™  Le Clown™:

Q: Which cult figure are you more like and why?

  • a. Jim Jones
  • b. Hugo
  • c. Papa Smurf
  • d. Fred Phelps
  • e. Ronald McDonald

A: f. Tom Cruise

Q: Why is your following predominately made up of dames and/or broads?

A: Le Clown likes to think women dig him because of his Charles Bukowski charms. And that giganormous red apparatus of his.

Q: How do you lure us under your spell? Is it hypnotism? Or that dorky thing Eddie Cullen does? Or something clownesque?

A: Le Clown is more like herpes, the gift that keeps on giving. And because every day is fucking magical on A Clown on Fire, and Le Clown is something of a handsomer Santa (or any other non-denominational fictitious character like White Baby Jesus) there’s a bad case of clap for just about anyone on his blog. It’s the latest craze, and all the cool kids want it. As for Edward Cullen, fuck him, not just literally, unless you’re into glass shards.  

Q: What is the difference between magnificence and magnificence™?

A: The trademark™. Obviously.

Q: Usually cult leaders have some fantastical idea of how they’re going to kick the bucket. L. Ron Hubbard apparently discarded his body and went to some planet. What will happen to Le Clown?

A: What’s this crazy talk about kicking the bucket? Neil Gaiman will soon write Le Clown into a new installment of his EternalsAt least, that is what Scientology told him. Dying is for the weak anyway… everyone knows that, right Hugo?

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the eleventh post. She hates enjoys doing this because every day is fucking magical. 

How to Write the Bestest Post

It’s hard to blog. There’s so much on TV. Occasionally you have to eat or go to some place that employs you. And then there’s the thinking of some clever Halloween costume. You really can’t go as Bernie Madoff again. That is soooooo 2008.

So you despair. You think “Oh jeez, here I am writing another post about colostomy bag decoupage. Am I going to lose readers?”

Yes. Yes, you are.

But that’s why I’m here. To tell you how to write the bestest post ever. Follow my surefire method and you will sure feel the fire. . . of awesome writing. Clearly only an awesome writer could write a sentence that awesome.

1. Sound controversial without actually being controversial.

People love them some controversy because it’s so, like, controversial and stuff. But you’ll find when you take a stand on something controversial, you attract the crazies into your world. I found this out the hard way by posting something a little political on my personal Facebook page, which prompted a “friend” to go ape-shit crazy and write a horribly racist reply. Story has nice ending though since “friend” is now “unfriend”.

It’s way better to write about something everyone agrees upon, but sound like you’re taking a stand.

Some examples:

“I know I’m gonna take some heat for saying this, but I think ice cream is creamy.”

“This may shock you, but I am a big supporter of fall foliage.”

“Well readers, today I’m taking a stand. I am against…I’ll write it again…AGAINST exploding the earth.”

And then your readers will feel all smart and cutting edge for agreeing with your “controversial” stance.

2. Include photographs.

You may have noticed the whole Freshly Pressed thingamabob on WordPress, yes? They like them some pictures, the picturey the better. But what if you take pictures like this?

Yes, that’s a problem. But did you know about a thing called the Internetscape? It has pictures on it that you can take to prettify your blogscape. Some of these pictures you can actually use too without violating someone’s copyright. (FYI–the picture of my feet is protected by copyright)

Like stock photos:

Or clip art:

You can even combine the two, and suddenly it’s not just some royalty-free images, it’s art, man.

I call this piece “Is anybody listening, dawg?”

3. Write about popular topics.

My biggest downfall was spending the first few blogging months writing Thomas the Tank Engine porn. People just weren’t into it.

So what do the people like? They seem to like this singing mop-head named Justin Fever. And Fruit Roll-ups®. Oh, and travel blogs. People love them some travel blogs. But what if you don’t travel? What if you’re like me? Someone who always likes to say “Oh my god, I love traveling” while coming up with a million reasons to avoid all travel because traveling is a giant ass ache?

There’s no reason you can’t turn your trip to the grocery store into an epic adventure.

For example: I drove slowly down the street, relishing the frequent traffic lights I encountered. At one stop, I glanced to my left and spotted a delightful pawn shop. How quaint! It makes one feel like they’ve stepped back in time looking at the VCR on display in the barbed-wire covered window.

4. Write lists.

People love them some lists. Why?

1. Because they feel like they will learn something about something

2. ???

3. Because lists remind them of “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music and who doesn’t love that movie?

  • Julie Andrew haters
  • Nazis
  • nun haters

5. End with something memorable.

Sometimes it’s hard to come up with an ending. When I run into that trouble, I tack on an inspiring message at the end–even if it has nothing to do with anything I just wrote because people like to be inspired. Do you know that 95 percent of the population own some version of the kitten “Hang in there, baby” poster?

Hang in there, baby.

Ibex Peen and Perfume: New York Travels

I actually left my home and laptop, and traveled to New York City this past weekend.

It was weird. There was the outside and real people and very limited access to wireless networks so I could not check my wordpress site stats every five minutes like I typically do.

I met up with my two closest friends from college. We are getting old, and at one of our “Jesus Christ, we’re this old now?” celebrations–otherwise known as a birthday–we made a solemn alcohol pact that we would go on a trip every year.

This is the first.

We stayed at the Millennium Hotel near Ground Zero. I don’t have a picture of it, but I do have this:

This is my foot. I was trying to take a picture of the view. This would be the view of a bed bug sitting on top of my head.

I had just lasted six hours on a train without Internet access so I was eager to tap into the free wireless access at the hotel. No such thing in NYC. You had to pay, and considering I just doled at $4 for a tub of lip balm fit for a Barbie Doll, I figured wireless access might be a tad pricey.

We ate at a Korean restaurant the first night. I don’t remember the name because I am American and if it doesn’t say “McDonald’s” then I will not remember it so let’s just say I went to a non-McDonald’s. I don’t have a picture of my dinner, but I do have this picture I took at the Museum of Sex:

Every guy’s fantasy.

Incidentally that is not what I had for dinner.

The second day was all about seeing the sites. We stopped in a perfume shop that likely had a name, but I’ve forgotten it. The perfume was costly, like 40 tiny tubs of lip balm. I asked the saleswoman if she would be interested in developing a Christian Grey scent with me. In the Fifty Shades trilogy, Ana is always going on about the fantastic smell wafting from Christian’s body. She describes it as the “Christian smell,” which is pretty descriptive. The saleswoman asked me what that smell is and I said I believed it was a combination of Axe body wash, lube and vag-flavored ice cream. She asked me to leave.

Spritz some perfume to say a prayer for the creation of “Christian Grey Dildo Butt Plug Scentasm.”

We trekked to the Empire State Building and were immediately accosted by a bunch of people in blue vests. One blue vester had the better ticket deal, he insisted. If we purchased tickets inside the building, then we would have to wait 16 hours standing on hot coals while shadowboxing roosters. If we bought from him, we just would have to pay more. Not a bad deal.

We bought tickets inside.

The view. Not my foot.

Here are my friends:

I also do weddings.

We saw the New York Public Library…

Me and the lion who starred in Ghostbusters.

And Central Park.

Me and a fern?

A butterfly landed on my foot and made love to it for several minutes. No one seemed to care. That’s New York for you.

The butterfly moves on to make sweet love to my friend’s hand. I’ll admit it. I felt used. And a little jealous.

We had an encounter with “Joke Man,” a guy who tells jokes for $1. I warned him that I was humorless.

We had a fantastic dinner at some Italian restaurant. You should really try it if you’re ever in NY. I cannot remember the name or begin to tell you where it’s located, but check it out. I don’t have a picture of my meal because it was dark and my belly was full of Chianti and despair over making joke man displeased. But I do have this:

Bed bug peen at the Museum of Sex. This is the main reason you want to avoid bed bugs while in NY.

Incidentally I did have bed bug peen for dessert.

Well This is Embarrassing. . .

I nearly forgot today was my one-year blogging anniversary or as I like to call it blogginganniversary™. Please don’t tell my blog because it will be pissed.

Oh, I guess it knows now. Sorry baby. Look, I’ll take you out to dinner…any Arby’s you want. And here’s a fistful of dandelions I picked out of the sewer grate. Let me stick one in your hair.

All better.

I knew something was off-kilter. I watched a little Today show today, something I haven’t done in months. I learned Kathie Lee pees in the shower, and it made me actually like her a little.

See, I used to always blog about the Today show, and then a lightbulb went off because the bulb blew and I got a replacement bulb, switched it on and *bing* (or whatever sound an idea lightbulb makes) bloganniversary™.

Why have I been so absentminded?

Well, I’ve been reading and recrapping a horrible book and watching and recrapping a horrible reality television show. I have lost 15% of my brain matter according to a survey I took on an Arby’s placemat. I’ll admit I have not been my 100% percent self. More like my 75% self.

I likely need a refresher on percentages.

I had planned to blog today about the latest episode of Bachelor Pad 3 where the contestants actually create an entirely new STD out of chlamydia, herpes and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. But that will have to be for another day. Today is all about you, sweetheart. Or me. Is it us?

Them?

Hello?

When I started this blog, I had high ambition. I planned to change the world. That’s why my first post was on Facebook status updates.

Wait…was that my intention? Oh, right. I was bored. Kind of the same thing.

This past year, I feel like I’ve really grown as a writer. Why just last August, I was recapping episodes of Bachelor Pad 2. And now look at me. . . recapping episodes of Bachelor Pad 3. 

Maturity.

I don’t know what’s in store for this coming year. Bachelor Pad 4?

I cannot wait.

Happy Bloganniversary™ Speaker7! I mean me. Or is it us?

Fifty Shades Fried

If you’ve been following my saga of self-flagellation, you would know that I have reached the third book in the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.

(If you have not been following and only clicked on this blog because you like fried shades, you can catch up here.)

Holy cow, gentle reader, it’s been…um…what can I say? Nearly as thrilling as the time I covered a greased piglet race at the county fair? Sure, why not. And those piglets were as sexy as a cup of hot crap, which incidentally you could get deep-fried.

I feel–to use the parlance of reality television– this journey™ must continue. It’s a journey fraught with obstacles. Clearly my ability to use English has suffered from this experience. Me is dummer than me was. My response to everything is “Holy cow” and just the sight of Ben & Jerry’s gives me a yeast infection, but continue on I must.

Jules of  Go Jules Go warned me the third book is not as smooth sailing as the other two. Considering there were times I would have chosen a sriracha sauce enema than read any further, I am worried I will not see this through.

But yet I am curious to see what happens to Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey. Wait, is curious the right word? I think I meant to say I am completely dead inside.

When we last left the most fantastic, incredible, beautiful, vivacious and other synonyms for dim-witted couple, they were about to legally fuse their genitalia together. Elena, Christian’s former dominant, is out of the picture, cast aside after she called Ana a lamo (WordPress autocorrected that to lamp, which also works). Ana’s former rapey boss Jack Hyde is out to get Christian and Ana, and failed to kill Christian by cutting the brakes on his helicopter or whatever implausible nonsense blah-blee-bloo.

So in this book, they should be all happy slappy, right? Well let’s find out what our two stars predict will happen:

There obviously has to be some kind of conflict, right?

Fair point. But there has to be something that happens–besides the two main characters glowering and muttering at one another and sticking things up their holes. I mean, look, this book is…578 pages long!! Are you fucking kidding me? It’s longer than the other two?!? Oh craptwat.

You know, you might be onto something, Hugo. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I really, really think it will be.

How To Write the Greatest How-To Post

People want to know things.

Simply typing “How to” into Google generates interesting queries like “How to make head cheese,” “How to last longer in bed” and “How to breed a rainbow dragon.” Interestingly no one has created the query “how to teach a rainbow dragon to make head cheese while lasting longer in bed.” That doesn’t mean they don’t want to know.

In fact, I would like to know…er…I mean, my friend Friend, no, not Friend. . .uh. . . Plate, Plate Fork, would like to know. If anyone has any idea how to make that work, please write a how-to post on it. You will learn how to make it the greatest after reading this.

So how do you write the greatest how-to post? It’s surprisingly easy! Just follow these steps.

  1.  Place your fingers on the home row of your keyboard. Type “How To. . .” except don’t use ellipses, fill it in with something like How To Smell a Wine Cork Without Looking Like an Idiot or How To Wrestle in Jello Without Getting Diabetes.
  2. Brine the pig head overnight.
  3. Go to sleep. Do not stay up and watch the Ab Rocket Twister infomercial. I can go from flab to fab in just five minutes? I might need to stay up. No, no, I should go to sleep.
  4. Wake up. Drain and rinse the pig head. Place the head into a big pot, fill with chicken stock. Log onto your blog. Type something under your How To. . . headline. You didn’t change the ellipses yet? Change the ellipses into something like How To Change Ellipses into Words. Okay now write something underneath it. It should be something amazing.
  5. Skim the fat as needed. After a few hours, pick off the edible meat from the tongue, nose and ears. Cover it with plastic wrap.
  6. Throw up quietly into a bucket.
  7. Mix the meat with parsley and other flavorings like MSG and barf.
  8. Go back into your blog, write something even more amazing than the last thing you wrote. Like, make it super amazing.
  9. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
  10. Go to sleep. Don’t stay up to watch Blue-Eyed Butcher on Lifetime.
  11. Remove the plastic wrap and serve with pickles.

If you followed all the steps, your greatest how-to post should look like this:

source: wikipedia

Whatever you do, do not eat this.

Putt-putt

If you’ve been reading this site recently or not reading it, which happens a lot, you are aware that some wires were yanked out or chewed on causing new posts not to appear in the reader.

The brilliant and macabre photo-lovin’ Angie Z suggested sending out a flood of quick posts to unclog the internet tubes. “You don’t have to write too much,” Angie said. “Maybe just ‘fart’.”

So that’s what this is. A fart, or putt-putt if you are sophisticated or easily offended by the word f–t.

There’s also this:

This was posted on someone’s Facebook wall. And, well, um, it’s. . . uh. . . nice? Sure, we’ll say nice and leave it at that.

Please excuse my putt-putt.

 

My Site Stats Suck Seashells

I never got much traction to begin with, but now I’m beginning to believe the tractor is broken down in a fallow field.

My site stats have plummeted dramatically. Why just yesterday I saw a tumbleweed blow through my dashboard. Two days ago when I posted a new post, I only heard crickets. And they say nasty, nasty things.

I am a reasonable person so reasonably this should be no reasonable big deal, but it’s unreasonably making me unreasonable.

But I’m not alone. With things like blogs, social networking and rain dances, we expect immediate gratification. In fact, we get a dopamine rush when we see a little 1 or higher number in our wordpress feed (why is it never higher than 1?). The opposite (that cursed 0 again!) causes anxiety that scientists are not all studied up on so they can’t give it a name like wordpress non-response anxiety syndrome duplex. But it must not be good or else I wouldn’t obsessively check my wordpress account to a point where I don’t remember my son’s name. It’s WordPress, right? Go to bed, WordPress. Mommy has to blog.

I think my site stats are down because I recently changed my blog address, and it’s caused all kind of haywireness in the blogosphere or in my head where all of you exist. But if you exist solely in my head, why don’t you worship me more?

My posts don’t appear in my Reader. They appear for an instant on a radio show in Marion OH and then vanish into the ether. If you’re like me, which you are if I created you in my image, you ignore your emails and then wait to read the blogs you follow in your readers.

I can’t deal with my email. I get so many posts from MarryaSugarDaddy.com that I believe I can find a sugar daddy to take care of me or I will become one and take care of someone who is awful.

The weird thing is when I change my blog address, it created a whole new speaker7 identity. Eric from WordPress told me I had nothing to worry about after I emailed and said “I want to marry a sugar daddy and also my blog does not show up in my reader.”

He said the engineer from Thomas the Tank Engine would get on it immediately. But my doppelgänger still exists. In fact it’s this:

And it’s posting:

Evidence 1

Evidence 2

Evidence 3

The worst part? It show up in my blog reader.