Redefining Normal

As much as I'd like to tell you I've always embraced the flight of my freak flag, the truth is I've strived for normal. My goal has always been to look normal, act normal, anything to shield the world from my own little internal shit storm.

You get up, go to work, get your paycheck, pay your bills, go home and go to bed. Rinse and repeat, Monday through Friday, add a little partying on the weekend and voila! Somewhere along the way, you find a significant other, go forth and multiply, grow old together, sit around farting and scratching until one of you dies... you know.. life. 

I'd already given up on most of "normal." I no longer need or want a significant other and my breeding days have long past. I was trying, however, to hold on to the working part of normal, at least to some degree. I've accepted that it's going to be damned near impossible for me to find a regular job, less than an hour from here, which, unless they're going to pay me a doctor's salary with my G.E.D., isn't going to work. 

I was determined to find a work-at-home customer service job like I had before, but companies with positions available either require newer computers or faster internet, two things I can't do anything about right now. I've applied to a total of about 8, I've been through three interviews and offered two jobs, but there always seemed to be a roadblock. 

When you keep running in to a brick wall, it's time to change lanes. 

In the meantime, I've been struggling with my sleep schedule. It's not insomnia. I can sleep, usually right around 8 hours a day, but not at night. Today I was up at 4 p.m. I have taken all kinds of crap to try to make myself go to sleep earlier. I've stressed out to the point of crying, because how can you find a job, working a set schedule, when you can't get up? 

So, I've been thinking about normal. Is it abnormal to sleep all day, coming to life just as everyone else is settling in for the night? 

Probably.

Is it worth getting in a wad over? Absolutely not. 

Since throwing my hands up and admitting defeat over the work-at-home, slave to the phone job, I've been exploring a freelance writing career. I had to finally admit that the phone thing wasn't going to work anyway, with Fat Kitty soaring across the room like one of the Flying Wallendas, landing on the back of my chair and chewing on my hair every five minutes or Ayla spotting a hiker out of the kitchen window and going all Cujo.

I may not have kids, but I don't have a "quiet office environment" either. 

 I've been writing for one company, off and on, for a few years. The pay has been, well, terrible. There was no way I could make a living wage from it, but I was recently offered a few, more profitable opportunities from them. 

It's a sign ya'll.

I've also applied to another company that provides blog posts to large companies, whose forte' may be more nuts and bolts than a flair with words. I've been through a multi-leveled approval process and am currently waiting for news on the final step. The pay is good and writing blog posts? I can do that.

At least, that's what ya'll keep telling me.

I've also got an application in with a company that does internet research for corporate accounts. Again, I went through several testing steps and am currently waiting for the final word on the last step. I have no idea how it pays, but getting in seems pretty competitive, so fingers crossed.  

Most importantly, what better job for a middle-aged-vampire-hillbilly? Write all night, sleep all day. I always have been kind of a night owl anyway.

Admittedly, I think the problems I was having with... as T.A. and I call it... The Beetis... is what got my sleep all kittywampus. Slowly, it's getting back to normal. Well, normal for me. 

But wait, there's more!

In addition to all those plans, I've got a new blog in the works. I played around with some "blog for profit" type formats before, but I was still an inmate at The Cubicle Asylum then and didn't really have time to do it properly. I'm planning a Gypsy/Boho Style site, I'll let you know when I get it up and running. 

I know, ya'll are over there like... "Mahala has a new idea every two weeks. IT'S GETTING TIRING AS HELL."

I know ya'll. I know. 

But my unemployment runs out in September. Something's gotta work.

Anywho, ya'll have an awesometastic, booty kicking, chocolate lickin' weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

I Won't Bite.. This Time

364 days a year, it's totally cool with me if you wanna hang in the shadows and read about life in Frog Pond Holler, but since it is Nationial International Delurker Day, I'd love it if you'd just peek in and say howdy, leave a "Hi there" or a "Hidey Ho neighbor" in the comment box.

Just this once.

Well.. until next year.

Next Time, Talk Me Out of it, Okay?

Alrighty ya'll. I've done just about all the web techy damage I can do for one weekend. I'm cross eyed, I've got a few more bald spots and I've considered taking up smoking again at least twice.

If installing that new graphics card goes as smoothly as this did, I'll be checking myself into a real asylum by Wednesday.

I promise a real post tomorrow. Right now, I have to pee, my left leg is asleep and I feel a sneeze coming on.

This won't end well.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Wipe Out!

It's been crazy at the Asylum this morning.. I mean crazy busy.. not just crazy as in Louise giving advice of a sexual nature. Business isn't up to where it needs to be, but it's nice to have plenty to do for a change.. although it does cut in to my blogging time.

Earlier today, I was working away, earbuds firmly implanted in the sides of my head with the peaceful sounds of Sade and Toni Braxton playing softly. Suddenly, the calm was interrupted by a loud crash coming from across the cubicle wall, followed by banging.. something bouncing across a hard surface and scrambling. At first I thought Bubbles had wiped out. I pictured her in the floor, shirt askew, partially exposing her belly roll, eyes crossed.. one leg bent beneath her, the other stuck in her desk drawer.. a result of the giant block heeled clod hoppers she's been wearing lately.

A kinder, gentler co-worker would have rushed to her aid.

I did not.

Through my stealthy, ninja-like recon skizzles, I discovered that Bubbles never actually hit the floor. The noise I heard was the result of a dildo phone blow out. Apparently, the rubber band she was using to hold the dildo phone together, snapped, smacking Bubbles in the side of the face, momentarily stunning her.. as the phallically reminiscent accessory went flying across her desk, bouncing wildly in to the air. Her desk chair did, for just a second, lose contact with the carpet as she reached for the escaping shoulder rest, nearly causing her to fall over in to the floor, but the wipe out was stopped when her head made contact with the filing cabinet, knocking her chair back in to it's original position.

Moments later Bubbles was spotted walking down the hall.. her hair in a very uncharacteristic state of disarray, her face flushed and with a slight limp.

I did not laugh.. that would not have been kind.

Well.. not until I knew she was out of earshot. I may or may not have called Lulu, giving her a play-by-play.

Anywho.. my lunch break is over. Time to head back to the nuthouse. Ya'll have a great one!

Later Taters!

When All Else Fails...

I started this post like.. five times and deleted it. I don't want to whine, bitch and complain... ya know.. being a big, festering Negative Nancy on the left butt cheek of the blogosphere, but I'm having a hard time coming up with anything else. I mean.. Bubbles is being bubbly, Lulu is in a pissy mood and since I dozed off before eight o'clock last night, I honestly don't have a clue what's going on at my house.

Luckily, MJ over at Note to Self tagged me with a meme, just in time.

4 things I did today:
*Got up (Isn't that enough?)
*Sent some dude in Puerto Rico a sappy bait letter with company information, in an attempt to generate some new business. I feel so cheap.
*Rolled my eyes and sighed heavily no less than 158 times
*Suddenly realized, about ten minutes ago, that tomorrow is Friday.

4 things on my to do list:
*Figure out a way to make some extra $$$. Too bad Dubya's step daughter across the road has dibs on the local sex trade market.. but then.. I reckon I can't really expect to sell what I can't give away.
*Repot my office plants, which have been sitting on my front porch for about a month.
*Fix the passenger side mirror on the truck
*Wash both the truck and the Boston Baked Beagle

4 of my guiltiest pleasures:
*Daydreams about night things in the middle of the afternoon
*Anything with thick, gooey, melted cheese
*Listening to the Hard Rock station at Pandora.com through earbuds at work
*Riding around, taking pictures

4 random facts about me:
*I'm nothing like you think I'd be in person
*I once got drunk with friends, members of an all girl metal band called "Armageddon" and stood on the balcony of the Pine Crest hotel at Ocean View in Norfolk, Virginia, singing "Lord won't you buy me.. a Mercedes Benz" at the top of my lungs at 4 a.m.
*I never really "got" The Beatles
*Driving on old, country roads scares the hell out of me, but put me in rush hour traffic in the middle of a big city and I can finally breathe again.

4 bloggers I'm tagging:
*As I've said before, I feel weird tagging others, but if you want to grab this one, let me know in the comments and I'll send a little linky love your way.

Ya'll have a good one.. and remember.. when you get to the end of your rope, just tie a knot and hang on. It's almost Friday, we've almost got this one licked.

Later Taters

Please Stand By.. Regular Programming Will Resume Shortly

I tried in vain to post yesterday. Everytime I started, people came in my office and plopped down in the chair to talk.. or the phone rang.. or someone called wanting a quote.. or Bossman materialized at the edge of my desk.

I'm still writing the story I started at 8:30 yesterday morning. Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, I'll have it for you before the day is over.

Hang in there.. I'll be back.

Later Taters!

Hurricane Hannah, Holler News and Linky Lurve

Have ya'll seen the weather reports? It sounds like hurricane Hannah might be heading right for the holler. I thought living this far inland, I wouldn't have to worry about those anymore. I was proven wrong when Ivan came through a few years ago, drowning Big City and turning the holler in to mush.

We need the rain, but not THAT much rain.

And now.. The Latest 'Round the Holler

County For Sale - When me and the Amazon went joy riding last Saturday, I noticed "For Sale" signs everywhere. Acreage, houses, vehicles.. anything you can think of was being offered up by the side of the road. Down at the little town market, beside the "For Sale" signs are those begging for work, doing odd jobs, babysitting, you name it.

People are desperate ya'll.

I don't "do" politics and I honestly don't give a rodent's rump who wins the upcoming election. I just know they'd better do something quick because we're all in a financial tailspin down here in Frog Pond Holler.

When Nature Attacks - In the past two days I've heard of two, separate snake bite incidents. The first was right up the road from my house, when a little old lady was struck by a rattler while pulling weeds in her yard. I should note, that while it's true that I live "in town," it's still pretty rural and you only need travel a few yards south before you're in an actual National Forest. Anywho.. the victim will be fine. Her attacker was apprehended and probably relocated because.. rattlers are a protected species.

The second attack occurred up at Aunt Moses' mountain top home. My trashy, big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin informed me that their big lab mix was struck in the face by a copper head over the weekend. They said his face was all swollen and he looked real bad.

I didn't ask if they'd taken him to the vet because, well, they probably didn't and I didn't need one more reason to be pissed off at my relatives that day. Knowing them, they probably like.. spit tobacco on it or some chit.

You Like Me.. You Really Like Me - Poopie, who's always keepin' the faith over at her place with Butterbean, Babygirl and the gang, was kind enough to bestow an award upon me:

I've known Poopie (in a friendly, blogger buddy kind of way) since the beginning, back when I was learning the ropes with my mountain Gyspsy blog.. back when I thought Bubbles was my friend.. when I had to delete the whole stinkin' thing because I suddenly started getting hits from the Big City hospital because she couldn't keep her big yap shut... but I digress.

Anywho.. I'm sure Poopie would love it if ya'll would stop by and say howdy. Poopie also occasionally writes for another web publication, Dew on the Kudzu. The editor of The Dew is another of those blog buddies I've known since day one. As a matter of fact, her stories about spreading her daddy's ashes and commune living were what inspired me to begin a blog of my own, so I'd love it if ya'll would go by there and show them a little bloggy lurve.

As for awards, I'm never comfortable choosing blogs, so consider this a personal invitation to check out any of the links in the "Brain Candy" section of my sidebar. Just be sure and tell them I sent ya.

We'd better get to work. Bossman is going to kick our butts to the curb if we don't start being productive.

Have a humpalicious Humpday ya'll ... hump it like George and Weezy!

We're gonna get our piece of the pie. I promise. Just keep humpin' it.

Move Along, Nothing to See Here

It's a nipply 31° in the holler this morning with promises of spring-like temps by this afternoon. I've got my fresh, hot cup of Clover Valley coffee (the Dolla' Genrul house brand.. I'm a little broke this week) and I'm listening to The Blue Oyster Cult jam on "Godzilla" through my nifty new earbuds, plugged into my computer.

No one can get offended by my choice of music, resulting in emergency prayer meetings and I'm immune to catty little passive aggressive comments made by co-workers.

Everyone wins!

~*~

I've been struggling with what to write this morning and I'm not having much luck, so instead, here's a list of all the topics I started to cover, but ended up deleting:

Jon and Kate Plus 8 on TLC: I love watching this happy little family, but every angle I tried to write from, seemed creepy and stalkish. I sounded like a crazed, lonely old spinister peering in the window of the semi-normal family down the road.

Not a good image for me.

The Critters: Sammy's still hairless, scratching constantly and I'm completely at a loss as to what to do to fix it. I'm hoping he can get a steroid shot soon.

Spooky still won't go in my room and her litter box is sitting in the hallway where I trip over it daily. I'm convinced she thinks I did something horrible to Scotty to cause his death in there. Seriously, you carry her in there and she cries and runs like hell in the opposite direction.

Yoda is still psycho, in that cute Chihuahuaranian sort of way.

I'm Broke: Hell, I'm sick of hearing myself say it, so I know ya'll have to be tired of me whining about it.

Bubbles: Again.. sick of hearing myself say it.. etc.

Anywho, I think I'm experiencing a case of the end of winter / pms onset / I'm so cranky I could slap a puppy (not really) writer's dry spell.

My plan is to just ride it out, this too shall pass.

Ya'll have a good one :)

Stealthy Blogging the Mahala Way

Dang ya'll. It seems like everytime I say "tomorrow we'll talk about so and so," I never post on "tomorrow."

I worked hard this weekend tending to various domestic duties. It was nice to come back to the Asylum this morning where I could sit on my butt and put my feet up under my desk. If I could just get the housework situation caught up, I might be able to actually do something fun on the weekends.

So anywho, lets pick up where we left off, shall we? BetteJo asked, "How DO you get away with writing all this - nobody at work knows? Or wouldn't Bubbles and Thelma know how to use the interwebs?"

The only people that I know who are aware of my blog are the Amazon, a handful of her friends (who don't live here) and Lulu. The Amazon used to read it daily when she was away at college, but now that she's back home, it's only if I beg. Lulu doesn't have my blog addy, but when I've written something I'm particularly proud of I'll print it off and give it to her to read. When she finishes with it, she feeds it through the shredder. She's very respectful of my obsessive stealthiness.

Bubbles knows I have a site where I write. I used to talk to her a little about it when I did PayPerPost, back when I felt guilty for not being her bestest buddy and was trying to be a better person. (I'm over that now, by the way.) I was always careful not to give her too many details, I learned my lesson last time. She had even approached me once and asked if I had ads on my "site." I told her I had a few and she insisted that I tell her the address so that she could go there and click them.. just to help me out.

I was born at night, but not last night baby.

Goober please.

As for the computer skizzles of Bubbles, Thelma and Louise, one could say they are limited. I don't worry too much about them hunting me down on the interwebs. I do, however, worry about my work computer, especially when I'm off. I clear my history every day before I leave and occasionally when I go to lunch. I know that talented IT professionals wouldn't be stopped by my clearing my history, but we don't have any IT professionals here, talented or otherwise.

There is the fear that I'll be found out and end up like the now famous Dooce, who blogged about work, was fired and ended up a media sweetheart as a result. Now, if you lose your job due to loose lipped blogging, it's referred to as being "Dooced."

I don't think I could be fired for blogging about the office. I don't name the company I work for, nor do I use anyone's real names. (Ya'll didn't think I really worked between Lulu and Bubbles did ya?) I don't think I've ever mentioned the product we manufacture and sell, it's a little too scary with the company website up, listing my real name etc. It's unfortunate in a way, the combination of the product we sell and Bossman's real name make the single best one-liner ever and it KILLS me not being able to share that with ya'll.

I suppose I could get my wrist slapped for blogging from the office, but only if they reprimanded Bubbles for reading Christian novels at her desk, Lulu from Googling the occasional genealogy tidbit and Thelma and Louise planning and booking their entire beach vacation every year online.

At least I have enough sense to be discrete.

Anywho, so yes BetteJo, that's why the name of the blog is "Hidden Mahala." Mahala was the name of a well known Melungeon back in the 1800s, who was rumored to be over 400 pounds and sold corn liquor from her bed in her little log cabin. They say when she died, they had to cut a hole in the wall to get her out and build her coffin around her bed. I'm no where near that hefty, but I admire the story of her spirit. From what I've read, I suspect she suffered from the same disease I do (Familial Mediterranean Fever or FMF) and I know her life, back then, was way harder than mine is today. Using her name helps me keep that in mind.

Mahala is also an old Gypsy word (I'm descended from a line of Scottish Gypsies.. well we think anyway.. who knows?) used to refer to a section of town, like instead of the "French Quarter" you'd have the "French Mahala." I'm told that in modern times, it's more commonly used to describe the ghettos where most Gypsies live.

So yeah, this is my little "hidden mahala," my little corner of the blogosphere, a virtual neighborhood where I can go to escape from the nuts in the Asylum. I've got great neighbors too :o)

Okay, I'm gonna run now, before I start paying homage to Mr. Rogers by breaking out in song.

Ya'll take this Monday by the cajones and show it who's boss.. kay?

Later Taters!

Birth of a Blog

Yesterday's comments included some questions about how I blog, work and Bubbles, so I thought I'd give ya'll an idea of what it's like on this end of the blogosphere.

Honeysuckle Rose suggested that I show my blog addy to Bubbles in hopes that she'd get a freakin' clue. Honey.. it would take way more than my site to show her the light. Believe me.

Actually, that's sort of how Hidden Mahala was born. When I started I had another blog that I loved, a sort of Mountain Gypsy themed site with the same sort of stories, shameless ass kissing of self-Googling celebrities (yes, I drooled over Craig Ferguson back then too) and stories from the Asylum. Back then, Thelma and Louise, Lulu and the gang all had different (and funnier) names and I was just a tad bit less stealthy with searchable information. When Bubbles came to work here, everything changed.

I'd always thought the world of Bubbles so when she overheard me and Lulu talking about my blog and insisted that I let her see, I wasn't that worried. I made her swear not to tell anyone and explained.. at length.. why it was important that she not show it to anyone local. When I say this is a tiny town, I am not exaggerating. The population is around 600. That's not 600K.. that's 600 people. Information flows though this place like wildfire. The last thing I needed was say.. Thelma getting hold of it, seeing how her hubby is the ONE police officer in town.

You can see how this would be a problem.

Anywho, so I gave in and shared the addy and she swore no one else would see it. The next day she came in, hollering at the top of her lungs about how ding-dang funny I was and how Bubbahubby laughed til' he had tears. I was horrified Thelma or Louise would hear her carrying on and ask what the commotion was about, but then I realized what she'd said..

Bubbahubby?

THE MOUTH OF THE SOUTH???

I started watching my stats like half starved junk yard dog. I was getting more hits from ip addys that could be local. This soon spread to the private server from the Big City hospital. Bubbles' Bubbahubby is a paramedic, so I knew he was spreading the word.

I'll admit, I was kinda flattered that people enjoyed what I wrote, but I started censoring myself out of fear and soon the funny sort of died.

It came at a really bad time. I had just been contacted by a producer from a show on one of the major networks about some stuff I'd written and here I had to start all over with a whole new blog, new identity.. everything. I couldn't even call the town I lived in by the same name, because although Bubbles isn't a computer whiz, I'd spent a good two hours showing her the wonders of Google and I had to be careful not to use any names she might remember from the old site.

It's not easy promoting a blog, trying to raise your search engine rankings while keeping it away from everyone you know.

Anywho, I need to run for now. Tomorrow I'll answer BetteJo's question:

"How DO you get away with writing all this - nobody at work knows? Or wouldn't Bubbles and Thelma know how to use the interwebs?"

This week is almost licked. Later Taters!

Popular Searches, Craig Ferguson and Toasty Hooters

It's nice and toasty in the office this morning. After much urging, begging, bribing and threats, PG finally gave in and sent someone from maintenance upstairs to check the heater, where it was discovered that a belt was broken.

I'm glad they found the problem, but it's a flippen shame we had to break bad and get downright ugly, sitting here freezing our hooters off for two days before someone would admit that something could be broken.

PG's excuse?

"It's cold outside, the heater can only do so much."

Ummmmm.. isn't that why we have heaters? For when it's cold outside?

Moving on...

I was tickled pink to hear that Craig Ferguson passed his citizenship exam on Friday. I had to laugh when I heard the questions, Thelma and Louise would have failed miserably on "Where is the White House?" (Read why here.) Anyway, congratulations Mr. Ferguson. Welcome to the melting pot. Just promise me you'll never lose the accent.

Yeah I know, he'll never see this. A girl can dream can't she?

*sigh*

Craig Ferguson has been hot on the minds of some of the Googlers landing here at Hidden Mahala. I get a bunch of hits from people looking for "craig fergusons girlfriend," from the UK, Germany and even India.

Other popular search terms bringing internet surfers here:

pooping hidden cameras
deep purple dreams
craig ferguson sheep song
anatolian bump

and my favorite and most popular?

sausage flies

That last one still grosses me out.

Ya'll may have noticed my little Yahoo widget thingie in the left sidebar. If any of you use that particular messenger, feel free to add me. I'm not on a bunch, I'm paranoid about using it at work, but I'm usually around for a chat on weekends and in the evenings.

You can also follow me on Twitter, which I do use while at the Asylum. It requires less concentration and I don't have to worry about getting caught with software on the work computer.

Anywho, ya'll enjoy the day. We'll talk again real soon :)

Later Taters.

BLT Abominations

I ordered breakfast from the Grab n' Go (and go and go and go) this morning. They deliver to the Cubicle Asylum and let us run a tab, making it popular among the employees. Besides, the nearest McDonalds is forty minutes away, give or take a few, depending on how many farm vehicles you get behind.

I've not ordered from there in a while, but for two solid weeks it's been low-fat granola bars and fat-free yogurt for breakfast and I just couldn't face one more morning filled with crunchy-nutty goodness.

I needed food dammit.

So I called the Grab n' Go (and go and go and go) and placed an order for a BLT with egg. I'd rather have a yummy biscuit, but they're greasy and tend to accentuate the "go and go and go" effect... if ya know what I mean.

Anywho, there are certain assumptions that one makes when ordering a BLT with egg. One assumes there will be bacon, lettuce and tomato with egg. It's understood that there will also be mayonnaise. I have gotten BLTs from the Grab n' Go (and go and go and go) that had no "L" and I've occasionally received them without "T." I'm usually asked when ordering if I want mayonnaise, which I just assume one would apply to a BLT automatically, otherwise there is nothing to hold it all together. If I were concerned with calories and fat grams, I'd be chowing down on another bar of compressed cardboard granola bar, not eating bacon, so yeah, I expect mayonnaise.

What I do not expect to find on my BLT with egg is cheese. There is no "C" in BLT. To add insult to injury, the cheese was smooshed directly against the mayonnaise.

CHEESE SHOULD NEVER COME INTO CONTACT WITH MAYO!! (unless it is melted cheese and graces the top of a mooburger.)

Gawd.

In other news...

If ya'll take a gander at the end of the right sidebar you'll notice that Google Almighty has graciously allowed me back into the fold. I have a page rank. It's not colossal, but hey, it's not a big fat goose egg either.

I've also added a list of some of the more popular posts here at Hidden Mahala. Originally the list was much longer, but me and Blogger's link list widget had some disagreements and after I took it out back behind the shed for a prayer meeting, I had to start over and do it the old way. I'll be adding more posts to the list in coming days.

Alrighty then. It's Hump Day ya'll. Hump it real good. I'm going to go earn my pittance for the day. Ya'll be good.

Later Taters.

Winter Finally Arrives (Again)

It's colder than a well digger's butt in the holler this morning. Light snow flurries are riding the wind, making pretty swirly patterns outside the window. It must be doing more than flurry on the other side of the mountain, the morning news announced that schools were closed.

I spent most of the weekend taking pots and pans out of the cabinets to wash. Our now deceased little rodent visitor lived among the muffin tins and frying pans, leaving his little poopie turds on everything. I washed them with an antibacterial detergent and bleach, surely to goodness that'll kill any lingering traces of varmint inhabitation. It'll be nice to be able to put stuff away again. The kitchen table was getting a little cluttered.

I'm doing some redecorating around the blog, so ya'll will just have to watch your step and try not to trip on anything until I get done. My CSS and Photoshop skizzles ain't all that and it's going to take me a day or two to get things like I want them. In the meantime, ya'll are liable to see just about anything when you stop by, so don't be skeered if it looks all weird.

Anywho, I need to stop putting it off and go ahead and tackle this Monday head on. Ya'll do the same. Have a good one.

Later Taters!

SEO, Google Page Rank and Alexa Ratings

I know ya'll get sick of hearing me say it every week, but thank goodness it's Friday. No lie, this place has gotten on my last nerve this week.

Since making the decision to try to correct my financially challenged situation by using my blog to make some extra money, I've worked hard to increase traffic, my Google page rank and the number of feeds coming in to Hidden Mahala. I've read about SEO (search engine optimization,) added meta tags, followed the advice of ProBlogger and registered for every blog promotion tool I can find.

The new Google page numbers came out yesterday. My blog dropped a point.

It's not all bad I suppose, ProBlogger wrote that he dropped a point as well, as did several of the other blogtastic "cool kids." My Alexa rating continues to fall, which is a good thing. Google's ranking system gives higher numbers to the more favorable positions (I went from "3" to "2") but Alexa works in reverse. With Alexa, the goal is to work towards the number one position, website Shangri-La. Six months ago my Alexa rating was 7,363,888. Today it's 3,044,063.

So why the nose dive in Google ranking? Maybe there are just so many more sites to compete with that the competition is getting stiffer.

Ya'll are probably wondering why I even care about ranking and ratings. Isn't it enough to know that I've got great readers like you?

It really is.. but...

I've tried to increase those numbers because those gauges of internet popularity determine the quantity of better paying sponsored post opportunities I'm eligible for. Higher ranks equal more money per sponsored post, which means I can write fewer of them and concentrate on writing more of what I enjoy.... Like Uncle Hubert's Custom Cows and my stalking plans for Craig Ferguson next month in Big City.

Do ya'll keep up with your internet ranks and ratings? If so, did you experience a Google nose dive?

I'm gonna go take off my shoes and do a Happy Naked Friday dance out on the front lawn. I'll see ya'll later!

Devil Worship in the Workplace

Ya'll have no idea how many times I've tried to sit down and talk to ya'll today. These people around here expect me to like... work and stuff.

The nerve.

It almost makes me feel guilty that I don't have anything earth-shatteringly profound to say.

Let's see, where to begin? I've gotten some emails asking how Sammy's doing, I guess I sorta did kinda leave ya'll in a lurch. Sorry. Sammy's doing okie fine although he's still walking into furniture with his big conehead. They took the icky-nasty-gross-disgusting-leaking drains out of his sides at the vet's Wednesday, but opted to leave the lampshade on his head until the stitches come out next week. I was a little bothered by the fact that they didn't close the holes the drainage tubes left, but they finally seem to be scabbing over. That poor mutt is in for such a bath when this is all over.

I took the car back up to Cletus' garage at lunch today to pick up my newly plugged tire. Poor little Festus, Cletus' gopher guy stood there holding the tire and asked, "Oh.. do ya want me to put it on for ye?"

"If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it." Like I'm gonna stand there at the garage and change my own tire.

Ma has located a junk yard replacement for the door on the hippy van which she plans to buy when she gets her check next month. She refuses to let the poor thing die.

I don't have anything major planned for the weekend. I do have a hag hair situation that demands some attention, but I've got a box under the bathroom sink to fix that. Oh and then there is that mystery odor in the house. I thought it was the litter box, but I was wrong. Something needs to either be changed, carried out or shot. The car is going to get a thorough cleaning at some point too, it smells of greasy man. You know, that masculine aroma of axle grease, aftershave, chewing tobacco and fast food.

I don't even want to know what Cletus was doin' up in there while he had it in his shop.

Oh by the way, some of ya'll may have noticed the new Blogrush widget in my sidebar. I learned about it through Darren Rowse at Problogger.net. He's always got all sorts of cool tips and advice on getting the most from your blog. Even if you're not interested in making money you can get some good tips on increasing traffic or the latest new doohickey. Anyway, Blogrush is a new service that shows links to your blog posts in the widgets on other blogs, depending on the number of page views you get. Wait.. their video explains it much better than I can. I'm confusing myself trying to put it in to words. You can check it out for yourself if you're curious by clicking on the widget in the right sidebar or by clicking here. There's been some chatter around the net that it's a pyramid scheme, I don't know. If it is the next big thing, getting in before it takes off and becomes huge might be a good idea. Who knows.. we'll see.

I'd better run. I think I'm going to play some Metallica so Bubbles can run across the hall and call an emergency prayer meeting. She actually told a customer yesterday that she was sorry that she had to transfer him to me (it was my territory) because I was listening to "debbil wership music."

It was Fleetwood Mac.

Later Taters!

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I Never Would Have Guessed

Ya know, it truly amazes me the number of people who have landed here at Hidden Mahala because they were searching Google for pictures of bear poop. I don't have any pictures of bear poop, although I did mention it once in a post titled "Bears Don't Just Poop in the Actual Woods." I just don't understand why that particular topic is so popular. It's running neck in neck with "who is Craig Ferguson dating" as the most frequent search to end up here.

Who woulda thought...

Rut Roh Shraggy

Please try to disregard the large black hole at the top of the page, where a picture used to be. I did some tweaking and I guess I erm.. over tweaked. Blogger is being five and not letting me upload my picture.

Keep your fingers crossed.

A Cornucopia of Topics

In desperation, I give you the post about all the things I considered writing about, but decided not to.

1. I'm hot. But unless you're living in Alaska or shacking up with Santa, so are you. It's hot all over. There are only so many ways I can make reference to under boob sweat, yet still make it funny. Sure, I have other crevices, nooks and crannies filled with the fine, ladylike mist of my perspiration, but do you really want to hear about it?
2. People are nucking futs. My customer calls today included one who said he'd accidentally dialed "877" instead of "800" when calling me earlier and had gotten a sex line. He went on to suggest that he might enjoy it if I spoke to him as if he'd dialed incorrectly again. I was so not in the mood (see #1.) Another one climbed up my ass hiney sideways for losing his order. After fifteen minutes of begging his forgiveness, offering to give him my next born child and to perform assorted carnal acts, it was determined that the order he was looking for was actually placed with another company. He made no effort to apologize.
3. Bossman was in a caring and sharing kind of mood. No, seriously. He felt it necessary to discuss with me his wife's sudden, post menopausal menstrual episode. I don't want to think about my own, much less hers. The sad part? I smiled and nodded and feigned interest. I've reached a new brown nosing low.
4. Bubbles needs to be on a sedative. It's for her own good. If tomorrow is anything like today, I'm going out this weekend and buying myself a tranquillizer gun. I'll take her down, hog tie her to the top of the van and drop her off down at the Salvation Army Church.
5. Something's rotten in Mahalaland. Or rather, in the general area of the cat's litter box. No listen... it's not normal. There is a funk rising like a putrid green cloud..it's other worldly. It's the kind of funk that used to make Ma say things like "Oh my gawd.. what crawled up your ass and died?" How does such a sweet, tiny bob tailed being generate something so foul, so NASTY???

So I'll give you three guesses what I'm going to go do now. It's that or sleep in a gas mask. Anywho, since this heatwave has a death grip on the general population, I thought I'd find a clip to remind us of days gone by and of what is soon to come again. Enjoy.

Cranial Echo

Okay ya'll, I am at a total loss at what to post today. I've wracked my brain, looked at news feeds, scoured other blogs, listened intently to Bubbles' telephone conversations... I got nothing.

Stay tuned .. and pray for divine inspiration.