Sundays with Stretchy Pants

If you have a blog, you know that spammers will try to trick you into visiting their site by leaving fake messages. Usually, the messages are uplifting with lots of exclamation marks and praise. My favorite so far: “You;re blog is beast!!!!!!!!” While I know the kids these days sometimes use the word “beast” that way, I also know that spammers are normally bad at spelling and punctuation and English, so I’m pretty sure it was supposed to say, “Your blog is the best!!!!!!!” These messages are intended to warm your heart and make you say to yourself, “That’s so sweet and I don’t even know this person in real life. Wait, there’s a link, I’m going to visit their blog and leave a nice comment about them.” And then you’ve lost. Your ego made you lose. Loser.

Lately, though, I’ve notice a lot more disagreeable comments from them. I think the spammers are looking to create controversy so you’ll want to track them down and google stalk them until you accidentally buy one of their products. So clever because we humans love to have internet controversies.

Still, though, the spammers just aren’t good at what they do. Just as an example, I have 2 spam comments on my Thankful post that really make me wonder:

Baby Grocery Cart Cover says, “Well, I don’t know yet. Not sure. But this is convincing…”

Really, Baby Grocery Cart Cover? Am I supposed to be sucked into an argument about this? What are you not sure about? The fact that I have children? The fact that it was noon and they were in their jammies? Do you doubt my thankfulness? Psh.

And Jungle Ceiling Fan Pull says, “I disagree. I wonder how you draw your conclusin?”

Oh, Jungle Ceiling Fan Pull, what were you thinking? This is a perfect comment for so many of my posts that state a “conclusin” without having any facts. My “conclusin” that I should get in the shower because the people at the party would be thankful for that? I draw that “conclusin” by knowing that I’m a greasy, smelly skank if I don’t shower. How do you draw your “conclusin” that people want a jungle ceiling fan pull? Nobody wants one, even if you use clever spam. Not clever enough!

Do you have imaginary conversations with spambots? Do you have real conversations with people you know in real life? Do you wonder why I would have imaginary conversations with spambots? Leave a comment and let me know where you get your lithium.

I’m busy and maybe I’m still in mourning. I don’t know. I paint stuff and take the kids to the pool and think about Michael Jackson and Walter Cronkite and run and play variations of hide-and-seek, but blogging hasn’t been on my to-do list.

We’re heading to Michigan today (not Cluck & Tweet’s Michigan, but still). My sister and I will beat my my nephew’s girlfriend and my niece in tennis on Saturday morning and then we’ll spend the rest of the day gloating about that while the kids swim in the pond and play with their cousin Riley. Sunday, there will be an Aldrich family reunion, and then a childless trip home as the kids are staying a few days in order to camp with my inlaws. What will we do with no children? Paint, of course. I’m going to paint 14 hours a day for 3 days. I hope I finish the whole house. After  my 14 hours of painting, Bryan and I will eat at restaurants and maybe go to Zoombezi Bay one night. Who knows? We’re crazy kids, we could do anything! ANYTHING! As long as the painting gets done, I mean. The painting must get done. I will miss the children because they rock, but they’ll be in good hands and they’ll still rock when they get back. And the walls will be painted. Yay!

Oh, and new toilet! Monday! Plumber!

As usual, don’t break in while we’re gone and make sure you cry because you miss us. If you could videotape yourself crying and post it on Youtube, that would be a bonus. I’ll give you bonus points. (You didn’t know I’ve been giving you all points all this time? I won’t take away any points for that).

I just checked out the keyword searches that cause some poor suckers to stumble across my blog when they’re actually looking for information on the internet, and I just want to say that there are way too many people googling “perm 2009″ or “2009 perms” or “should I get a perm” or something like that. FYI, a 2009 perm is the same as a 1989 perm. Maybe you don’t carry a pick around with you in your back pocket, but it’s still the same damn thing. Please don’t get a perm. Just because skinny jeans and, apparently, harem pants are back in (thanks for that tip, kjames), does not mean you should get a perm.

I was a little bit offended that google sent somebody here when they searched for “my sister-in-law drinks too much.” I don’t drink too much, google! But then I noticed that it didn’t really bring them to my whole blog, it just brought them to all of the posts that I tagged with “Tracy.” Haha, Tracy, the internet knows you drink too much.

I’m sad for the people (person?) who searched for “c0ck stretchy pants” and “advantages of gay s3x.” You must be very disappointed in google right now. I think there might not be any advantage unless you’re gay and then, well, the advantage is the gay s3x. That’s just my opinion, but I think it would be pretty advantageous for a gay person to have gay s3x. Maybe one of my gay-er readers could clear that up. As for the c0ck, well, I’m very sorry you wasted your time here. To my knowledge, there is nary a c0ck to be found on this site. Defnitely not one clothed in stretchy pants, but you might like this site that my friend emailed to me yesterday. I’m not going to call her out on it because she might be embarrassed. And rightly so. It’s called Awkward B0ners. Go ahead, click it. You’ll love it because many of the awkward b0ners are in stretchy pants. You’re welcome. Oh, um, that site is NSFW and NSFC. It’s true. The site with the word “b0ners” in the title is not the least bit safe for work or children. I thought I might better spell that out for some of you.

Last, but not least, everybody is googling those stupid effing 0ne-a-day teen v1tamins. And they find them on my blog. I still get comments from dumb teens on that post. “Um, like, it’s not sexist, if, like, I totally want clear skin. Muscles are for boys. Clear skin is for girls. That’s not sexism, that’s, like, the truth.” The fact that the post clearly says that even my ten year olds can see the sexism does not give these teens pause when they leave their comments. I have  no hope for the future.

On a related note, who the hell googles, “can adults take 0ne-a-day teen v1tamins?” and “if I am not a teen can I still take teen vitamins?” You should be slapped. You are like a vitamin cougar. Act your age and get some grown-up acne or muscle medicine you sick, sick vitaped0phile.

I’m not copying Dawn, I swear, but I took my Blogher ads down.

I’m ambivalent about advertising, so if I’m going to put ads on my site, it has to be worth it to me. Not spiritually worth it, monetarily worth it. That’s why it’s called sell-out, not giveaway-out. I can be bought. So, while the “wrinkle cream reviews” link makes me cringe a little, I’ll keep it because it can go “below the fold” and, most importantly, they paid me cash money up front instead of using whatever fancy logorithm blogher uses (I think they divide by 0).

I’m a bit sensitive to advertising, (I <3 Sociological Images) and most ads make me cringe in one way or another, so I have to be compensated for my pain and suffering. But I don’t get enough hits to make it worth my while to have blogher ads. Yes, yes, I see the hypocrisy. And I raise you some duplicity. Heh. I don’t really care. I just wanna get paid, bitches! Although, I draw the line at nudity. I wouldn’t put a picture of my boobs on the site, no matter how much you paid me. (Yes, I would, but I would tell you they were somebody else’s.) Nevermind, all of my booby pictures are nursing-related.

Anyway, how have you been? I have been fine. It is hot out now. I am a sweaty, sweaty pig. How are you? Your friend, Abby

Did you ever have a pen pal and did you write like that to her? I did. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa! I’ll share that memory with you now, as I have nothing else to say and Bryan is studying, and I can’t read my book until bedtime because I’ll fall asleep, and the tv remote is far away from me, and I already read the whole internet all up.

My pen pal’s name was Jenny and she lived way up north in Au Gres (that’s pronounced like, “aw, gray!” like if you were opening a pair of wool socks for your birthday and they were gray and you said, “Aw, gray!” or “Aw, gray,” whichever inflection suits you) and our dads worked for the same company and we met at a company picnic and became penpals! It was the best thing ever. After a couple of years, we hatched a delicious plan to find out, once and for all, if there really was a Santa Claus. We both left a note with our cookies that said, “Dear Santa, How are you? I am fine. How many elves do you have?” Well, her Santa said “Too many to count!” and my Santa said, “212.” Dumb Santas. And that’s why I always think my kids are trying to trap me every time they ask me a question.

Oh, here comes a kid now. I’m going to tell her to bring me the remote. You’re so lucky.

At my fit-throwing insistence, Dawn made my blog pretty, and then I undid it all. I missed Liberty’s “Mom Running” picture being in my header so I had to change it back. But I changed the color and the font! So it’s still kind of fresh and new. That’s something.

You might have missed it, but I chose a different, actually more appropriate, pic for the new blog header. It was a pretty sidewalk type thing with a gas line thing that said “Gas” right on it. Definitely fitting since I hardly ever blog about running and I am full to the brim with all kinds of gas, literal and figurative. (Don’t pretend like you don’t have gas, too. You do and you know it. Do you think you’re better than me? You might be, but you still have gas.)

The Sundays with Stretchy Pants title does have to do with running, though, so Liberty’s drawing goes with the title. My long-run day is Sunday and I always, always put on stretchy pants after a long run because they feel so good on my sore legs. But I started a new training program today! And my long-run day will be Saturday. Which means Saturday will be my stretchy pants day. And you have no idea how it pains me that my blog title won’t actually fit my life anymore. I’m not usually particular about things, but it just feels wrong. Anyway.

Here’s something fun: My pretend friend, Kathi D,  has a new meme up that she stole from somebody and I’m stealing it from her. Google your name, preceded by “unfortunately” and see what you get. Fun.

Unfortunately Abby causes quite a stir when she arrives there. “And you know we don’t serve Negroes in here. Have you forgotten your place?
I do love race issues and I would totally cause a stir if somebody, after mistaking me for a black woman, refused to serve me. I would Twitter that shit all over the place and they’d have one hell of a clusterf*ck up in there.

Unfortunately Abby is my real name. Actually, it’s Abigail, but I’m no hair-splitter. It’s unfortunate either way.

Abby’s up against her rival Belinda Fishcake in a talent contest …unfortunately Abby has a voice that can peel paint, and the brace doesn’t help either!  True and true. Well, I don’t wear a brace, but I do have a mild case of scoliosis. That Belinda Fishcake was always a bitch.

Unfortunately, Abby had some trouble delivering this litter and three of the six puppies were stillborn. That was a very painful time in my life and I’d rather not talk about it. Actually, the painful part of this one is that it reminds me of the fact that my own aunt had a dog named Abby. It’s a popular dog name.

Unfortunately, Abby missed out on seeing Hi5 because she was so sick. I was faking. I don’t know what hi5 is, but it sounds lame.

Unfortunately Abby is crying in her sleep while I am writing this. I haz a sad.

Unfortunately, Abby Littleton had decided that visibility at those same functions was good for her career. I never took my clothes off at those so-called “functions,” and those pictures on your cell phone are fake!

Unfortunately Abby made a big mistake and said that the picture was inappropriate. Again, fake.

Unfortunately, Abby has inherited my eyes. Thanks Dad.

Abby tells a rather upset Gibbs that Rowens is telling the truth, she didn’t write the emails. Unfortunately, Abby doesn’t know who did. I’m lying; I do know who wrote them, but it was my evil twin and I want to protect her. Even though she’s a bitch.