And Now We Take A Break For This Public Service Announcement...

Hi.

I'd like to take a moment to address random visitors to my blog. For those of you who've stumbled across me while searching online for other things, I say welcome.

But I also want to chat a little with you. Because you're scaring me.

Really.

I'm not sure what's in the water lately, maybe crazy powder, but I'm concerned.

See, in case you didn't know (and I'm always shocked to see how many people don't know this) when you go to a search engine and type in your keywords and then you surf the links the search engine pulls up for you and you land here--well, I can SEE what you typed in.

Yeah. I can. I know what you googled, people.

I keep track of my stats, and this is one of the many bits of info I am privy to. The idea, which theorectically is a good one, is that I should be able to use this info to better direct traffic to my blog. The reality is that I need some Ajax and a scrubbie for my brain now.

But, more importantly, I'm concerned for some of you. I am, truly. Because this is not the right place for you. No. You need more help than I can provide.

For those of you googling about your naked sisters? Ick. Get therapy.

Also, stop googling wank, people. Ick again. Don't you know you'll go blind?

I don't know Elvis's real hair color. Or how he smelled. Sorry. But I just don't.

Elves don't have tattoos, either. And ah, I don't know a single elf who's also a hooker. (Though, I'll be frank. This one makes me a little curious, just because quite a few of you have googled this--"elves as hookers." Seriously, elves aren't real. And if they were, I'm not sure they'd be hooking. Just saying.)

I can't help those of you who have pajama issues. I can't. I've been working almost two years now on my neighbor's pajama issues and have gotten nowhere. I'd try someone else if I were you. And I don't know a single perverted joke about Oreos. Though, okay. This one made me curious too. If they really exist and anyone knows a good one, I'd be open to listening to it.

I'm sorry. I am. I'm just a little old blog and there's only so much I can do. However, I will say this:

To the person who googled what do cannoli smell like? The answer is delicious. And if that doesn't work for you, the back-up answer is Heaven.

And to the other person who was wondering how can you help a commitphobic love you back? You can't. Trust me. Nor do you want them to.

Okay, well, that's about it. Now please, go forth and google responsibly. Please.