Well, that’s not entirely true.   I was aware of The Bloggess and I once went back and forth via email with dooce.   By the way, at BlogWorld someone purported that Heather Armstrong (dooce) has more influence, because she has a bigger total audience, than Oprah.   Even if that’s not true, it’s cool to hear.

Now that my site is being read by more than just my parents, I have a TON of bloggers who seem to enjoy my crap.   And a lot of them are some of the sweetest and most fun people I’ve met.   You know, for nerds.

Tonight, I’m staying at a fan-turned-friend’s home.   She will be launching a blog in December.   We’ll be friends forever, I’m pretty sure.   I already had the lockets made.

Last night at the end of BlogWorld celebration, however, I met the most boring broad at BlogWorld.   (That alliteration was unintentional, but after reading it back, I’m leaving it in.   Don’t judge me.)

Her name is Megan and she introduced herself on the dance floor.   Meaning she grinded on me.   Hard.

No, we just happened to be on the dance floor and I went up and talked to her and her friend Angie.   Because they looked really fun.

Within thirty seconds I realized that that once again, I can tell who a fun person is just by examining their outsides.

We’re way too hard on ourselves about superficial judgment.   It works pretty well most of   the time.

You have to understand that at BlogWorld, everyone here is insanely passionate about something.   In a session yesterday, a man named Dave turned to me and started talking.   He works for Boeing, and when I asked him if he was an airplane blogger, he said, “Oh no, I just went through a bone cancer thing this summer.”

Just to be a dick I replied with a disappointed, “So you DON’T write about airplanes?”   Then I turned away.

Okay, that was a joke.   I’m not a total sociopath.   But how amazing is that?   It was sort of a bummer to reply with, “Um, I once wrote two stories about my dad’s dork.”   I felt like a total asshole.

So, when I asked Megan what she blogged, I expected her to write about something awesome like fashion.   Or being a woman.   Or rainbows and unicorns.   You know, girl things.

She replied really enthusiastically, “I work for a credit union, and do all their social media!”

I just stared at her blankly.   Then, literally, I turned to her friend Angie.   Thank God she did NOT work for a credit union.

Megan screamed, “Why does everyone keep doing that?!”

Because nobody knows exactly what a credit union is, and more importantly, nobody gives a shit.   I mean, honestly.   That’s a more ridiculously stupid idea that the chick I met who blogs with the title, “Hot Chicks With HPV.”   Okay, don’t Google that.   I made it up.

So, Megan had an uphill climb with me.   Her job sucks.

But not to her.   She was so pumped about what she did, and not in a hey-let-me-overcompensate-for-my-lame-job way.   She was passionate and genuine.

I still dubbed her The Most Boring Person at Blogworld.   I mean, somebody had to win.   Then I spilled my Sprite on her shoe.   But she didn’t notice.   Solid.

And then we talked for several hours.   I couldn’t stay away.   She was great.

Oh, this is funny.   Because she happens to be really hot, a TON of guys kept coming over to us and hitting on her.   One guy from the Middle East came over, said his name and then kissed her on both cheeks.   By the way, I’m pretty sure they don’t do that in the Middle East.   Then he just stared at her and stood next to me.   It was awesome.

The night before at another party some lowlife blogger slapped her ass.   She, of course, is married and wears a ring.   That, too, is awesome.   Guys are funny.

I guess this weekend taught me more about “finding my tribe.”   We all need community.   For support, mostly.   To share passion and to follow each other into the future.   I suspect Megan and I will be buddies.

And, quite honestly, The Most Boring Person at Blogworld was still one of the most fun and sweet people I’ve met all year.   I’m glad I was here.

Things About Excrement

First, I think it’s important to understand what I mean when I say degenerates who find ThoughtsFromParis.   When a post is written and published, I send an instant ping to hundreds of different sites whose job is to crawl webpages and categorize content.   Google is one of these sites.

A little over a year ago I wrote a story about how I accidentally pooped my pants when I was in my twenties.   It’s become one of my most popular stories, and linked to many times from other sites.   Google has mistakenly decided this story is very important, and has positioned it high in the search results for some truly disgusting searches.

Thanks to analytics software, I can track many things about my website visitors.   What country them come from, how long they stay on each page, even if they’re a new visitor or repeat viewer.

I am about to share a few searches that have led people to my website.   Get ready.

• fully clothed pooping – yes, thanks to writing this article, three people have found my site who typed this in.   And yes, it’s true that in my story, I did, in fact, poop fully clothed.   But my guess is that the subhumans who typed this into Google was not looking to read a story about a guy who gets sick in a cab.   They probably wanted a video.   Sorry to disappoint.

• pooping her pants – of course, many people have found my site by typing in “pooping his pants”, but for some reason, this one is more alarming to me.   I can’t imagine wanting to type those three words in that sequence for any reason.

• funny pooping pants stories – okay, this one I don’t mind because I did write a funny story about going boom in my nice dress pants.   But…   Are there a ton of these stories floating around (pun intended)?   Does somebody collect anecdotes about this topic?   And, if so, do they bring them out during cocktail parties?   “Hey Jonathan, I found three really awesome gems online about people who poop in their pants.   While I’m pouring your highball, I’d like to tell you three.   I have many more, but three is a good start.”

• I pooped my pants stories – now, if you pooped your pants, would you be searching for “I pooped my pants stories”?   You’d already know the story, right?   Well, maybe if you were high on ketamine during the incident, and your best friend is your online biographer.   Then maybe it would be an apt search.

• I am an adult and I pooped my pants – I’m just speechless.   Why would someone type…   What is going on with…   What were they looking…   I’m just going to never think about this one again.

One final point.   Lest you think these were just a couple of random scumbags, think again.   The search terms listed above account for over one hundred individuals that landed on MY website.   And it doesn’t count repeat visitors.   These are one hundred new people.   And if you want to get even more depressed, I checked my site versus these search terms, and I don’t even show up on the first three pages for any of them.   So they had to browse through dozens of sites before landing on mine.

The good news is that maybe they read that story and chuckled.

Who am I to judge?   No wait, judging is fine.

You’re gross.   Get help.