This is one of those obligatory posts about searches that lead to my blog. I have been gratified in the last couple of weeks to see that several people – or the same person several times – have reached my blog by Googling “sexiest woman.”
Although I found this flattering, I could not leave well enough alone. In order to try to get into the mind of the person or persons who have followed this unusual path to my portal, I tried Googling that term myself.
I had to go through 8 pages of results before I finally found one that linked to my blog. That was a couple of days ago. Today I tried it, so I could add a picture of the search results to this post, and I gave up after looking through ten pages. Which really makes me wonder what exactly these searchers are seeking.
Are they skipping all of the nude images and videos and articles about Jennifer Aniston, and actually determining that Please Send Congratulations in the Form of Donations to the Wonderbutt Disaster Relief Fund is the answer to their sexy woman prayers? Or, are they clicking on every link, page by page, hour by hour, day by day – reading my blog dutifully – and then starting the whole process again?
This is what I spend my days pondering – the psyche of my readers, both accidental and purposeful, who are my invisible audience.
Conversely, the top searched term leading to my blog of all time is “porta potty.” Considering that my post on this topic was about an obituary of a woman who held “a great appreciation for porta-potties”, and my great desire to never be known for this particular attribute, I find it to be the ultimate irony that this is how most people chance upon my blog. And now, of course, I’ve made this even more likely by mentioning it in yet another post.
If I thought it would be productive, I would seed this post with a plethora of more productive search terms, like “Hunger Games” or “porn.” But I don’t need a bunch of hate comments from disappointed internet surfers who tried to catch the wrong wave. And I don’t think people doing those types of searches are apt to offer me a publishing contract, much less a movie contract. (At least not for the type of movies in which I feel comfortable appearing.)
My next stat investigation will involve trying to figure out why I suddenly have so many readers in Malawi (shout out Malawi!!!!!) – second only to my U.S. followers. Maybe you Malawians have been the sexiest woman seekers stumbling upon my blog. If so, I hope you haven’t been too disappointed to find out that the Wonderbutt featured so prominently in my blog is a fat, toxic gas emitting bulldog, and not an actual female body part.
After my nauseating results from doing an image search for “big toe” the other day, I realize that I really should be a little less quick to hit the magnifying glass on search engines. I have had a few times that my results have been more than eye-opening, and I really should know better by now.
Undesirable consequences of searches have plagued me practically since the infancy of internet search engines. About 20 years ago, apparently when things were a little more willy-nilly on the World Wide Web, I was trying to find some lesson plans for Louisa May Alcott’s book, Little Women.
That was my first indication that there are some truly sick people out there with photo uploading skills.
And, yet, decades later, I still enter impulsive terms into that little search window, assuming that my own narrow and naive interpretation of the phrase is the only possibility that will be considered by the wide nets being cast by the likes of Yahoo and Google.
One time, after hearing the phrase on T.V., I looked up “camel toe”, innocently believing that it had to do with some kind of footwear faux pas. Yeah, uh, no. Interestingly enough, 3 people have reached my blog by searching for “sally field camel toe.” And now that I’ve typed that, there may be more.
When I first started this blog, and assigned our bulldog the pseudonym of Wonderbutt, I one day became curious about how that Google search might turn out.
Yes, I am that stupid.
In my post that referenced roller-skating, I got a completely astonishing list of sites when I typed in “couples skate” looking for an image. I really could have done without that sexual revelation for the remainder of my life – which will probably be much shorter due to the complete shock to my heart induced by those results.
And then there are the searches that I knowingly make in the interest of research, fully aware that I am treading on dangerous ground. Yesterday’s post made me curious about octopus testicles, which was a frustrating quest, to say the least. Apparently, the creatures do have some, but there seems to be an ongoing internet war as to whether they are located in the head or the mantle or if those happen to be the same thing. After a few minutes trying to weed through this catalogue of conflicting information, I realized I really didn’t care, and got sidetracked by several videos posted about a poor weatherman who apparently said that Paul the Octopus had testicles.
I don’t believe in censorship, but I’m beginning to think I need a filter to protect me from myself. Being a teacher, I never thought I’d say this – but there are times when a little more education can be way too much.