If you don't know what SEO means you might as well pack up your blog and stick your head in the toilet in shame. That's what they would have you think, them, those ones who want you to monetize your blog, flog your blog, flog yourself, flog others. Apparently, the more flogging you do, the greater your success. I already beat myself up about my blog and I certainly don't get monetized for it. Maybe I should beat you up too!
No, flogging doesn't interest me, it's so piratical, neither does self-flagellation, although it does give me an idea on how to optimize my personal SEO (Search Engine Optimization).
How bad is it, the Mel Search Engine? - Where did I put my keys? Where did I put my glasses? Where is that thingy, that book thing that wrote about, you know, that guy and the green cover? It's like in middle age everything in my home ends up in cloud storage, supposed to be very cutting edge, but jeez, it's not very effective is it? So yeah my search engine sucks - my stuff is in a frickin' cloud. If I had money I'd have Help. But let's get serious. Plan B.
Kids have strings on their mittens threaded through their sleeves. Effective! I could just tie everything I habitually lose to the end of a long knotted rope, belt it on, and drag it behind me like those tin cans they tow behind cars after a wedding. Instead of a sign on my trunk that says "Just Married," my trunk would say "Just Menopausal."
My keys, my book thingies, the garbage I have to take out, O trailing along at the end - I can't forget him - all so convenient. Everything within reach!
But maybe it would be like that kids' book, Too Much Noise, where an old man covers up the creaks in his house by adding other noisy things until he gives up and appreciates the original creaks. I'm not saying I'd appreciate my creaks, no matter how original, but a trailing rope? I'm envisioning tangles and filth already, and I hate cleaning as much as losing things.
Well, it was an idea. Too bad I can't patent it and make millions so I can get Help, serious help. The Clapper might be good, but O won't wear a Clapper and everything else in my home would beep when I clap. So back to square one - I'm done before I even get started. What's the point? No, seriously, what was my point? Heh.
I'm jonesing on fluffy white sport socks, flats, glasses, and too-short pants these days. Whaaa...? Feck it. I like it. I'm going to wear the shite out of this stuff - because I can.
- Weird B&W drop crotch, too-big plaid pants that twist around and bag weirdly;
- Striped Zara jacket plucked from the clothing swap leftovers at the last minute at the charity shop. Who brought that? Jane, was that you?* After I painted over a couple of stains with acrylics you can't even see them when I move fast or hold my hand in an odd position;
- Sample sale long-sleeve T, white sport socks;
- Ultra-magic loupe.
How's your cloud holding out? Thunderstorms? Fog? Those dudes in Silicon Valley think they invented cloud storage? Puh. We middle-aged women laugh in their faces.
Edit: The jacket is from Sylvia. Thank you! She wore it here. She also mentioned SEOs when we met up. Hahaha. How appropriate that the two come together in this post. It's meant to be!