Hey google, remember me?
About fifteen minutes ago I wrote you a post. Here in this blog.
I keep checking, but I haven't heard back from you yet.
What is up with that?
Maybe it's time that I finally apologize.
I realize our relationship is totally one sided, with you knowing everything about me and me knowing nothing about you.
I'd like to change that. Right now, if I could.
Maybe I should apologize for all of my abuse of google.
Like, I didn't mean to make my own algorithm that one time.
That was purely an experiment. The kind of thing that happens when one - when I become bored. I was just trying to figure out how the whole thing worked.
It backfired. And I'm sorry. Really.
And, the other day, when I googled myself - I just hope that didn't throw anything off.
I know that your history of me is detailed. I use both gmail and blogger so - that's not good. Not to mention (I really do hate mentioning it) that you've kept all of my queries.
That's years of queries.
I can already hear the snickering:
withdrawal from smoking
benefits of chocolate
double chocolate cake explosion
mystery of metabolism
benefits of olive oil
recovery from addiction
non smoking forum
why cheese is ok
history of cheese
four cheese potatoes
cheese for breakfast
start jogging today
the joy of jogging
sharp knee pain
jogging through the pain
low impact exercise
benefits of omega 3
how to drive traffic to your blog
five reasons no one reads your blog
I have to wonder if making google my home page was a mistake - like the final piece of the puzzle, or something.
And maybe banking with google (google is now my bank) - maybe that was a bad idea, too.
And now that I'm working for google, I can only imagine how this post might reflect on my performance. At google.
I am happy, though, that if anyone googles me - they get hundreds of pages of a new age author.
No. No one can google me.
I enjoy that fact. It makes me laugh. I laugh about it all the time.
Easily digested (like cream cheese). Totally non-threatening.
Such a pretty theory (that goes so great with all of those new candles).
Something for women who - simply by virtue of being fat; simply by virtue of buying new age books - learns that she (and she suspected such!) is already wonderful, worthy, unique, and beautiful - just the way she is.
Really? No kidding.
Because that's all any woman wants to hear, anyway: that she is entitled. To be happy. Even though the evidence to the contrary keeps stacking up and knocking against her psyche.
Let us begin the new age lesson on quieting the truth, right now, shall we?
And, what if I want to be an author one day?
Will I - in order to have any google results of my own, need to employ my middle intial or use a different name?
Have you ever thought of that, google? Because, right now, it's all I can think about.
I'll go by frankenmonsterblog, I guess. That's how google knows me, anyway.
A woman named frankenmonsterblog.
People will love that..