Hey! Welcome to the party, here’s a blower thingy, go get yourself a jager bomb.
After 10 months of this thing called blogging, I just crossed over the 100,000 view mark last night. That is pretty fucking cool, at least to me, and it’s my blog, so I’m having a party, and you’re the guests of honor.
Upon inception of The Monkey’s Off My Back But The Circus Is Still In Town last April, I received 3,197 views my first month, and was ecstatic. I was ready to call 60 Minutes and tell them to do a segment on me, because I was so fabulous. That’s an average of 106 views per day. You have no idea how astounded I was by that, I mean I was just writing random shit and posting it and people were actually reading it, then people started following me. Anyone who’s blogged gets it. We love our fucking stats and make out with them all the time. Each one is a pat on the back, a gold star, a sticker of a unicorn jumping over a rainbow with the words “Great Job” written over it. I could barely figure out how to put up a post let alone manage all the settings, etc. But WordPress does make it pretty easy, even for someone like me, who is not as smart as Steve Jobs but smarter than Corky from Life Goes On.
In October, things really started to change, and by change I mean explode. I don’t know why, granted I get about 500 hits a day on my creative masturbation techniques post, which is weird/startling/horrifying/hilarious/awesome, but my numbers started climbing dramatically. In October I hit 7,500 page views (apx 250 per day). November came, holy shit call Matt Lauer, 17,000 views (566 per day)!! I shit my pants a little but the checker at the grocery store was not impressed. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, December topped off at 19,838 (661 per day) and my vagina and I celebrated over a romantic candlelit dinner. Then, the Mother of All Months…Janufuckingary…and you know where we are at people? 27,949 motherfuckers! That’s 998 per day, and I cannot believe that shit.
Although I am awesome, more awesome than the life-sized wax sculpture of myself that I don’t have, I would just be a sad girl, at home with a flashing cursor and her vibrator raising two wildly awesome little boys if it weren’t for you, my bestie bestest readers. Can you feel my high-five/smack on the ass/awkwardly long hug/reach-around? You who comment and inspire and curse and laugh and challenge me to keep finding shit to write about. You (especially you) who have supported and promoted me and brought me followers! You who have encouraged and given me reason to believe that I can actually write, albeit poorly, but in a way that makes tears run down your legs, and that is all I care about anyway. Getting the laughs. That is all I’ve ever cared about really, to a fault, but fuck it, it’s who I am and this is my corner of the world to let it all fly uncensored. It’s your choice whether to read it or not, and if I offend you then you can just go fuck yourself over to another vanilla blog.
This is going to be a big year. I’ve mentioned that I’m writing a book, it keeps spiraling and changing and what started out as a collection of comedic short essays has now transformed into more of a hilarious and possibly inspiring memoir. As you’ve probably gathered from reading me, I’ve had a pretty interesting and fucked up life. It has been anything but dull. It’s hard as hell to string it all together the way I want it, so I just keep at it, and eventually I’m going to attempt to get a literary agent and be as cool as Ericka Clay over at Creative Liar. She’s a much better writer than I am, and she wears Sketcher Shape-Ups so maybe I’ll ask her for advice/stalk her on Facebook. I’d like to be sort of like her when I grow up, although I think she’s like at least 10 years younger. I love to see people do what they love, follow their passion, and wind up getting published in the real world of books. I think that is the most awesome thing in the world.
Anyway I just want to thank all of you for coming to my Over 100,000 Views Party. I hope you had a blast, and that you drive safely and do not throw up and pass out on the kitchen floor with your pants down so that your friends can all write their names on your ass with a Sharpie and then smear your crack full of peanut butter. Because it sucks when that happens.
High Kicks and Hot Dogs,