A rather worrying trend has begun to appear in my google analytics with reference to this blog. Concerning search terms like "drunk girls let loose", "easy ladies drink captain morgan", "brilliant swear words", "pregnant and homeless street girls", "love jennifer love hewitt big boobs" seemingly reveal or suggest my blog as the result and therefore source of all this debauchery.
Some of these I can understand, hence the linkage to the supposed offending articles, but others are just plain bizarre. This makes me wonder if I'm not portraying the utterly adorable picture of myself that is so obviously the reality and which has always been my intention.
So in order to counteract the image of a drunken, bisexual homeless prostitute I seemingly so vividly painted allow me to tell you how charmingly multifaceted and adorable I am.
Here goes, when I was little I felt so strongly that all of my stuffed animals had feelings (thanks mam), that I kissed all of them goodnight and then placed them in a more comfortable position on my bed than even I, so they could sleep well. I also implemented this rotating schedule of who got to be my main sleeping companion (sort of like now but with men.... JOKE!) so that none of them felt left out or unloved. An indication of how fair I am I think. I may or may not (depending on how you judge me) still have a very special stuffed animal in my very bed to this day as an adult. Written out, all this better illustrates my childhood OCD tendencies than my wholesomeness.
Speaking of OCD, this was exactly how I protected my whole family as a child. I had this routine involving light switches and steps that was clearly warding off all evil and basically keeping my entire family safe throughout our formative years. You're all very welcome.
This whole post isn't exactly going to plan as I write on. All I seemed to have managed to successfully established is that I was a weird, neurotic child.
Let's move on, and concentrate on my recent notable loveliness. In my college years I made friends with this old man who lived on his own at the end of my street. We'd talk most days. He told me one day he was lonely and sad so I and used to bring him biscuits and sometimes make tea. Most importantly I'd go to the post office for him. Isn't it funny how often old people need to go to the Post Office? There's nothing funny about this story though. That's the end. I heartlessly moved to Dublin and the community nurse took over. I hope he's still getting his pension.
Erm, what else lovely do I do?.................
There's this homeless old man on Dunsmuir and Seymour that I give $5 bucks to nearly every Friday. We have this game we play where I pretend I believe he's done this pencil sketch he's holding. He then offers to sell it to me for $5. Then I say it's beautiful and give him the five bucks but allow him to keep it so he can swindle more money out of other passers by. I appreciate the effort he puts in and he seems like such a nice old man.
Wait. I'm beginning to see a trend starting here too: I'm slightly neurotic with a weird soft spot for old men. This whole post is becoming redundant. I actually dread to think the search results this posting will come under, necrophelia anyone?
I'm just going to counterbalance everything I said with keywords that will attract a more suitable audience: Wholesome, lovely, nice, good person, NORMAL, nice to children and animals and old men (evidently). Loves animals, dogs especially (not so much cats), friendly. Friend. Person who shares, sharer, carer. Wonderful, hugs, nice, kind, sunshine, rainbows, bunnies. Does charity work*, saves universe*, noble peace prize*, tee-totaller*. Sober, very very sober.* Did I say kind and lovely and lovely and kind.
Ta da. Plan implemented. Now step up google or chrome, or firefox or bing and start advertising me and this blog in the appropriate rose tinted light I prefer. Let's make my blog synonymous with all things nice and wonderful and not Jennifer Love Hewitt's large breasts.
*not necessarily fact.