People from Nowhere Never Click on Internet Ads...Apparently

Hey, y'all.  I was reviewing the statistics from my blog, trying to figure out how to convince more people to read the darn thing so I can get a book deal and make a little money. There are always more pants to buy and more cinnamon rolls. So far, I've not met their lofty ad click threshold of $10, so they can cut me my first ad revenue check. The 59 of you who have registered to follow this blog, I adore all of you. To quote Miss Tina Turner, you are simply the best. The rest of you lot are on my naughty list and I can assure you I know both Jesus and Santa Claus, so whomever you're most afraid of, I'm telling them all about your unwillingness to make me rich. On an other note, I was looking at the traffic sources for my blog and I noticed a very interesting list of the home countries of fans of my blog.  Here is the Top 10.

1. US

2. Ukraine

3. Russia

4. UK

5. Philippines

6. Indonesia

7. Unknown Region

8. Switzerland

9. Germany

10. Japan

What exactly is going on here?  Other than being spied on by Ukraine and Russia (I assume), where is Unknown Region?  How does The Internets not know where somewhere is? The Internets knows where I park, where I go every other Thursday after work and what exactly I've been wanting to purchase but just haven't. It's creepy but also convenient for The Internets to know everything. So if it doesn't know, what am I to think? Is Unknown Region a proper noun? Is it a place? Is it outer space?  Is it a rift in the space/time continuum? Is this a Doctor Who episode and if so, which Doctor is it?  It had better be 10 or 11; 13, in a pinch.  12 would be okay if he wasn't always so irritable. He's like The Dad when he's tired of waiting for the Meals on Wheels people, except with a guitar.  If we were in the TARDIS together, one of us would have thrown the other one out the door somewhere during the first episode.  Also, why can't River Song be a Doctor?

But, returning to the less concerning locales, Switzerland is about as posh as they come. Well done me.  I wonder if I should go there for a book signing?  I've been to UK but am always looking for an excuse to go back. I've also heard Berlin is amazing, so maybe I'll plan a whole Western Europe trip to meet my people; all my loveable Pennies? Loafers? Almosters? What do you call yourselves? Do you call yourselves anything? If not, why not? We are headed to the Philippines for our honeymoon later this year. Maybe those fans in Indonesia can meet us there? I don't want to go to two hot places in one year. Plus, Indonesia doesn't have Bangus Embutido or Chicken Pastel. Manila does, so it's Manila for the win. I guess it doesn't matter where you are, I really appreciate your support. Please forward my blog posts to your friends. But not this one, it's not that funny. Send them a good one. And for those who are reading the blog from the Unknown Region, let me know where you are, if you can. Or at least send me a picture of your location's flag or an example of your clothing or your favorite food, as long as it's not spicy. Please and thank you.

Unfortunately They Charge Per Pound

          Ben and I are planning our honeymoon to the Philippines in November and we began the search for airline tickets.  Having no frame of reference for traveling in Southeast Asia, I had announced that I was flying Business Class at the minimum because I was not about to fly Coach for the 15-17 hours it takes to get from Los Angeles to Manila.  The exchange rate from pesos (Philippine currency) to dollars is 51:1, so at first I thought the prices were in pesos.  When I realized they were in dollars I was nonplussed, to say the least.  I won't tell you the price, but suffice it to say, that the cost of two round trip tickets would get you an acre of land in central Illinois or a 2010 Toyota Corolla, with high mileage.
         After drinking 64 oz. of Diet Snapple Peach Iced Tea, to get over my shock and dismay, I decided to check the price for Fed-Ex to mail us in the same, or if less expensive, separate boxes.  Unfortunately, they charge per pound, unlike those "If I Fits, It Ships" boxes from the Post Office.  Ben's box would have been very inexpensive as he is about as big as a minute.  On the other hand, the cost for my ample body (almost as many minutes as in that song from 'Rent') was on par with a Coach ticket and, although I do not relish the experience, I would rather be the one who decides how to abuse my body, as opposed to the unfulfilled, and therefore angry, shipping conglomerate employee.
         So, we are flying Coach with the tacky masses; meaning both poorly attired as well as sticky from Lord only knows what.  Therefore, I must invest in some sort of chemical combination to help me sleep the fourteen and a half hours it will take to fly non-stop from CA to Manila.  Anybody have suggestions for non-alcoholic, non-illegal, non-prescription methods to sleep while traveling?  Seems like my only options might be a combination of Melatonin, despair and/or airline snacks.  Can a Stroopwaffle act as a sedative?
         And like the Right Reverend Robert Tilton would say, Pray, send money or both.  Blessed be, y'all.

Who Peed in the Dating Pool?

              Some time ago I mentioned I was going to dip a toe back into the dating pool, but then never mentioned it again, like some of those peripheral characters on soap operas.  Truth be told, in my attempt to wade, I slipped and fell headfirst into what can only be described as a kiddie pool based on the maturity level of most of those I’ve encountered.   I will state this was surprising so you won’t think I’m all jaded and whatnot.

                After my most recent debacle which involved an alleged construction accident in the Philippines and the realization that I am not overly attractive while Skyping, I was encouraged to blog about my experiences dating using as a guide the numerous suggestions I have been given by well-meaning friends, church folk, acquaintances, advice columnists, outcomes of lawsuits and random advertisements for dating websites. 

                Titled “26 Ways to Not Meet Mr. Right” (www.26waysright.blogspot.com), this new blog will take you on a magic carpet ride but without any further veiled drug references or Steppenwolf songs.  Over the next six months, I’ll be your intrepid explorer through the vast wasteland of dating in an age of self-involved Pokémon Hunters with little to no ability to actually communicate in person.  I’ll be like Columbus without the smallpox or murderous intentions; like Carrie Bradshaw, with all the fashion but without all the trashy behavior.  I love me some Sarah Jessica Parker but all four of those ladies were what we would call ‘fast’.  Just saying.

On this particular note, please be assured my blog will be rated PG as I am rated PG, or Puritanically Gleeful.  And never fear, I shall continue the Penny Loafers blogs although only 1/8 of my Facebook friends even read it and yes I’m a little bitter, like endive; slightly bitter but still palatable.

Join me on my quest to find my one true love.  I believe he is out there somewhere, unless of course, he was hit by a bus or kidnapped while shopping for clearance-priced Brooks Brothers.  And even though Tanya Calvert and Gary Piercey (yes, I still remember their names) used a particular song to beat me in the Will Rogers Elementary School Talent Show in Burns Flat, Oklahoma, in 1981, I will be like the ant that pushed over the rubber tree plant and have (singing, with jazz hands) HI-I-I-IGH HOPES!

Somebody might want to say a prayer.