All right, here’s the long-promised Search Engine Phrases Blog (ooh, Gratuitous Capitalization Can Be Fun!).
I’m proud to say that John Edward, my favorite fraud, was the most-requested search engine phrase that led readers to my pages. Following on Fraudward’s heels is, well, um, me. Except I’m soon to be eclipsed by, of all people, Our Buddy Bin. Check out the list below where people are searching for something, anything that makes fun of Osama Bin Laden (although they nearly all misspell “bin” as “ben”, which is kind of annoying, because “ben” means “son of” in Hebrew, and “bin” means “son of” in Arabic, and one thing Bin isn’t, never was, and never WILL be is Jewish, for which I thank God.
The next favorite search phrases were Fish Heads (or voobaha or Barnes & Barnes, the album and authors), Tony Little’s Gazelle Glider, and last, but not least—ta da! Our own Miss Cleo (Call me fraud, darlin’!).
There’s a web site that collects disturbing search engine requests, and I have to agree that disturbing is the only way to qualify these:
There was only one dirty phrase, and that came early on--and from the Microsoft network search engine. I decided to remove it because it annoys me.
Some of these were just plain silly.
Miss Cleo rates a whole section to herself.
These puzzled me no end.
These were just neat
This last was the scariest phrase of all, not least of which because it drew the person to my site. I have never, do not, and will never own such a piece of clothing in my life, unless you force me to don one and the only way to do that will be--trust me on this--if you're holding a gun to my head and threatening to skin both of my cats alive before you blow my brains out.
pals forever sweatshirt
Reasons to be thankful
Happy Thankgiving, everyone. I think most of us have many reasons to be thankful, not least of which is living in the United States of America. It's a refrain of mine. I recognized a long time ago how fortunate I am that my great-grandparents all chose to come here, and think of that on a regular basis--particularly after seeing how unfortunate so many in the rest of the world are.
And I sit here in my kitchen, twelve miles west of Ground Zero, with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on in the background, and I realize this: The terrorists tried, and failed, to change our way of life. They hurt us, yes. We lost over 4,000 people to their depravity, our economy took a hit, and the New York City skyline may have changed forever. But right now, there are about a million people lining the streets of New York watching high school bands from all over the country freezing their little pom-poms off, just like they do every Thanksgiving during the march down Broadway. There are many references to the heroes of September 11th. Police and firemen and EMT workers and, of course, the ubiquitous Mayor Rudy Guiliani, are on floats and in the VIP stands.
But overall, our way continues. In every state, families are gathering, the turkeys are cooking, and people are getting together with their loved ones to celebrate the bounty that is America. For that, I am thankful.--MAY
Postscript to the above: I am also thankful for the mute button on my remote, as Barney is singing something obnoxiously gooey about "I love the holidays". Okay, let me ask this question, and then I'll try to be a good girl the rest of the day: Why couldn't Our Buddy Bin take out Barney instead of the World Trade Center?
Note from 11/28: Upon further research (like, checking out the main page on this site), I have to warn you: This site goes on my looney-tunes list. UFOs. Crop Circles. Riiiight.--MAY
You never call, you never write...
How is it that I've now reached the point where if I don't write in this weblog every day, I feel guilty? Wow, good job, folks.
It's an extremely slow day at work. We're keeping a call tally. The kids have all gone home for the holiday, the two bosses are out, as is half the staff. We're up to 7 calls, two of which were office workers and/or bosses, one a wrong number, and a bounced call from a staffer who left earlier today. I'm going to win the pool. I said this morning I didn't think our call tally would get into double digits.
And tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. It's going to be a different kind of Thanksgiving for many of us. I'm really glad I'm not driving anywhere out of state. And I hope all of you have a wonderful, peaceful holiday. I'll try to find a little time to write some decent blogs. Actually, considering I'll be dealing with the family, it would surprise me if I didn't come up with some decent material after tomorrow.--MAY
Start spreadin' the word
I'm thinking New Yorkers are getting back to normal. On the way to work this morning, WINS-1010 radio (the most listened-to station in the nation) had a story on census data. The U.S. Census Bureau informed us that New Yorkers have the longest commutes in the nation, although where they got their 39-minute average commute puzzles me no end. But when the reporter was doing man-on-the-street interviews, telling them the Census Bureau findings, one New Yorker said, "They had to spend money to figure this out?" --MAY
Go, you chicken fat, go
When I was in junior high school, there was a record (round piece of vinyl that plays on a turntable and outputs sound, not unlike a CD except for the turntable and vinyl bits) containing various exercise-type songs that we had to do exercise routines to in gym class. I am also (alas) of the generation that needed to have the dreaded "gym suits", and trust me, they were about the ugliest things you could possibly imagine, and no picnic to wear. Ours were navy blue one-piece things with short pants. Ugly, uncomfortable, and we were so incredibly glad when the dress codes changed and we could wear (gasp!) regular shorts to gym class.
Anyway. There's a song with the above refrain that I vaguely remember, and it felt like a good phrase to title this particular blog, as I'm trying to get rid of my chicken fat again, except it isn't chicken fat, it's non-smoking fat. Or ex-smoker fat. Or I-eat-too-many-fried-potatoes fat, more likely. Oh, so that would be "Go, you fat fat, go." Heh.
But what's really pissing me off is that the two-day rule has been broken. See, after you hit a certain age--and I have no idea at what age it begins--you exercise one day and don't feel it the next day. You feel it two days later. This is what's been happening to me for years now. And so, I got on the exercise machine yesterday afternoon, and this morning, awoke to unexpectedly sore muscles. After only one day. I had an intense feeling of betrayal until this afternoon, when I realized that it's obviously a sign of my body's impending trend towards youth. Yep, it's true. I'm starting to grow backwards, just like Merlin in The Once and Future King. Where's my proof? Hey--did I not have a birthday a few days ago? And should that not have made me another year older? And did I not experience muscle pain today, instead of tomorrow?
This also explains the resurgence of my amazing agility and catlike reflexes. I've missed them, and in the past few days I've noticed they've returned. You're going to have to wait on an explanation of those, though.--MAY
Civil Statue of Liberties
John Ashcroft's process of slowly stripping us of our Constitutional rights starting to get to you? Check out this Ben Sargent cartoon.
Loss of R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Aretha Franklin canceled her Friday concert in New York City. She's too afraid to come here. Shame on you, 'Retha. Shame.
Mother Nature vs. the Jeep, Revisited
When last we left Meryl, the Jeep, and Mother Nature, I was laughing at having finally won one on the old broad. Well, yesterday I spent the afternoon at my brother's house, using the last few hours of warmth to wash and wax the Jeep and get her ready for all the salt and snow and yuck that winter throws at us. By the end of the afternoon, my Jeep was bee-yoo-ti-ful, glowing golden in the last rays of the sun, and so shiny that on the way home, my side-view mirror was reflecting my dashboard lights instead of the cars behind me on those stretches of Route 80 without streetlights. I got the Jeep home, put it in the garage for the evening, and took it out again this morning to get gas and go grocery shopping. I was outside maybe ten minutes, tops. TEN MINUTES. I park in the A&P parking lot, get out of my Jeep, and see a large purple splotch in the middle of the hood.
Score: Mother Nature 1, Meryl 1. We're all tied up.
Boring maintenance notes
I've been reorganizing my web site in ways that shouldn't affect you, but probably will, since I've been doing things I probably should have done in the first place, like creating an archives directory and putting the old pages in there. So if you come up with any bum links, feel free to drop me a line and let me know which pages I missed.
That Scripting News thing
Well, things are on hold for the moment. I don't use blogging software, just my html skills, and I've been researching permalinks and finding that they're a bit out of my league so far. So until I figure out how to program them, or unless one of you folks has an idea, Dave Winer won't be pointing to me any time soon. I really don't want to go to a blogging tool, though. I kinda like having complete authorial (is that a word?) control over the way my site looks. There must be another way.--MAY