What Google loves about Me

It’s been heavy around here lately – time to lighten up.

One of my favorite things to do in the middle of the night when I’m the only one I know awake is to look at my random blog stats.  Google Analytics both intrigues and horrifies me with the amount of dirt they can glean from our casual web usage.  It’s very 1984 if I think about it too much, which I try not to do.  I’m mainly in it for the fluff.

Amusing discoveries this week:

Certain search terms that lead people here don’t really surprise me.  DIY projects lead the pack far and away, most being people looking for plans to make my kids cubby, washer/dryer pedestals, flower boxes, or dormer desk.

These are followed closely by Handy Manny Birthday Cake seekers.

Also, my “What the heck is going on with Handy Manny” post continues to be a hit, with 137 different search terms leading people to that post.  (Most being fellow parents wondering if Mr. Lopart is gay. My money continues to be on flaming.)  Seriously, I get emails about this one weekly. You’re welcome, fellow frustrated parents.  There are also searches about the disproportionate number of wheelchairs on the show, and even one very odd “Mr. Lopart rifle caliber for long distance” search.  Did Mr. Lopart bust out of the closet wielding a gun?  Not sure what that one’s about, but something tells me we’ve missed an episode.

For the most part I can tell what brought someone here, but occasionally I’m completely baffled. Take, for instance, “head taller spanking boy” I’m at a loss. Complete loss.

“Annoying requests for virtual hearts, hugs, love, etc” – Oh I can see why you were led here. Pull up a chair.

But “Wet white tshirt in the rain”, surely you must be in the wrong place. Oh no, wait – I actually was that stupid.

“scented Heather Roberts in Mississippi” – hmmmm. I’ve never lived in Mississippi – must be a different Heather.  Wonder what she smells like?

“Does Sheetrock Hills use money?” – You’ve come to the right place. And the answer appears to be no.

“Complete failure as a housewife” – I’m going to try not to be offended here and just move down the list.

“Eulogy I could give for my Grams” – OH.MY.GOODNESS. Is there actually someone out there who stole the eulogy I gave my Grama?  I have no words.

“Pochron Rices Landing” – Since my hometown has about 200 people, I can definitely narrow down who Googled this one.

“Honda transmissions suck balls” – HA! Well I wouldn’t have said it quite that way, but yes. Yes they do.

“indische kleuren muren” – I had to Google to find out that this means “Indian colored walls”.  Which apparently people in The Netherlands believe that I have – good to know.

“needle broke off in finger” – oooh, good one! I’d almost forgotten about that!

“messy home pictures with children” – Again, no offense taken. Really.

“thank you for being so thoughtful and remembering my birthday” – Agreed.  Thank you Darcie.

“I can’t do the splits like I used to” – um… yeah honey, me either.  Though to the best of my recollection, I’ve never publicly admitted that. {until now, naturally}

What’s really odd to me is that I can’t even replicate these.  If I Google wet white t-shirts, I get a whoooooole lot of other results, but not moi.  Who, just for the record, has never taken nor posted a picture of herself wearing a wet t-shirt of any color, thankyouverymuch.

Although I did discover last week that Googling my name does bring up an, um, interesting image.  Which is completely and totally not me.  But go ahead, you know you want to.  If you know my married name, you’ll find it in the top row.  Not me.  Not me.

Update: Thanks to my mother, who likes to show off how much more internet savvy she is than I am on a regular basis, I now know that I couldn’t replicate these results because the all-knowing Google machine somehow takes into account who you are and what your internet habits are, and they don’t show everyone the same search results. Thanks mom.  Not only did you clear that up for me, but you also made Google seem infinitely more freaky all-knowing.  Awesome.

WTH? Wednesday

Probably won’t be an actual series or anything, but the title’s pretty darn catchy, isn’t it? Thankyouverymuch.

I started this post months ago.  You know, back when I was still blogging with regularity.

Anyway, I’d sort of forgotten about it until last week when Lilly and I were watching her very favorite show (at the moment).  She’s moved out of her Little Einsteins phase and is now solidly a Handy Manny kinda girl.  When she saw him in Disney she nearly cried with delight!

We had to wait in line to see him 3 times.

And she hugged him so long and hard we eventually had to pry her out of his arms!

Overall, I’m fine with it.  The show is cute enough and not overly annoying, though I do find playboy Wilmer Valderrama an odd choice for preschool programming…but I digress.  So Manny, thumbs up.  I’m cool with you.  But what is going on in your town man?  I have never watched an episode without a thousand questions running through my head.  So like any stay-at-home mom with way too much time on her hands curious woman would do, I googled for some answers.

Which I didn’t really get, unfortunately.

But I did find a whole slew of other socially repressed curious moms like myself, wondering the very same things.  So at least now I know I’m not alone in my craziness.  See?

- Are the people of Sheetrock Hills illiterate? Why does Manny’s store just have a big picture of his head instead of a name?

- Is Kelly a closet socialist? When she closes her store to help Manny with a project, he protests and tells her she should go back to the store. Her response: “Community comes first Manny.”  Hmmmm…

-Is Sheetrock Hills is a barter society?  They certainly don’t ever exchange money. Manny never pays Kelly for anything from her store, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard money so much as mentioned. Kelly stands there next to a cash register that never gets opened, leading me to believe it’s all a farce. So if money isn’t exchanged, how do you think Manny pays her for the goods? Sure, he could have a house account. Or is he paying her in other ways? They’re awfully flirty.

- How do the tools have eyebrows? They are just suspended in the middle of nowhere up there. Are they fake? What holds them in place?  If they are real, do they grow?  Out of what?  Why do they even need eyebrows?

- And speaking of the tools, they always seem excited to eat. How does that work exactly? They have no hands to hold the food. And where is their digestive tract?  That food has to be going somewhere.

- Why does Manny never remove his hat? What’s he hiding under there?  Ditto the gloves.

-What’s the backstory on Mr. Lopart? He’s always snubbing Manny but somehow I think he’s not a bad guy, just misunderstood. Do you think he insists on doing it all himself because he’s jealous of Manny and trying to keep up appearances, or because his intellectual growth was stunted and he’s the emotional equivilent of my 2-year-old, insisting to do it “my OWN self!”

-And is there any actual doubt that Mr. Lopart is gay? Or are we to believe he’s asexual? And either way, isn’t he a bit stereotypical? A middle-aged single man, living with his mom, unnaturally attached to his cat, with a funny voice and forever seen in a cardigan sweater. Couldn’t we be a bit more original here?

-The gay thing makes me wonder if there is an unspoken push to be PC in this show.  I mean, we’ve got the hispanic majority (check!), the gay man (check!), the woman-in-a-man’s-profession (check!), the Asian family (check!), the Indian family (check!), and various kids in wheelchairs (check!) always in the backround.  I think this town might be a gated community to keep out the plain old white bread.

-Which then leads me to wonder, where is this place? The US? Mexico? Puerto Rico? or…?

-Are the kids in Sheetrock Hills total jerks who destroy their parents marriages?  Why does everyone seem to be from a single parent household?   There’s no Mr. Lopart, no Senora Sanchez, no Mr. Portillo.  Something is amiss. (PS-Don’t freak out about the kids crack-it’s an SNL joke)

-Why does no one, ever, no matter where they go, ever seem taken aback by talking tools?  They don’t even mention it!  How is that not just a little bit odd?  I’d freak right the heck out if a flashlight ever hopped up and talked to me.

Yeah, I know I’m weird for thinking this much about it, but when you see something for an hour a day, every day, for months on end, I just can’t help but go there.  If you ever figure any of this out (or know a writer with answers over in Handy Manny land), I’d love to hear from you.  I need to get these things out of my mind so I can go back to pondering more important matters.  Like why the Little Einsteins parents aren’t being investigated for child neglect.