Apparently, you cannot lie, either.

I subscribe to a service called Stat Counter, which tabulates how many hits my blog gets. It doesn't tell me everything — something with cookies and something-or-others — but I can see how some of you come to my site. (It doesn't give your names, so don't worry about me invading your privacy or stalking you or assuming you're all my ex-boyfriends who are dazzled by my thirtysomething droopy form of beauty of late. But it gives cities and, sometimes, server names. I apparently have a lot of readers who work in law firms. I should be careful that all my claims are true, then, dammit.) Mollie explained how it works much better here. A good explanation and Lawrence Welk jokes. This cannot be beat.

In any event, in some cases, I can see what you Googled in order to find me. Or, more accurately (lawyers!), what you Googled when you happened to find me.

For example, several months ago, someone fell upon my blog when they Googled stick figure fellatio. It was then that I realized that I'm just dirty.

On my current menu are three that piqued my interest:

GARLA MAN
big butts photos
conjoined twin myslexia Mexican forehead

Hm.

I really don't know how I feel about that. I do have several thoughts, of course:

1. While I think my mother, for one, always wished I'd been more girlie, I am not, despite arguments to the contrary, a man.
2. I'm certain of this, as evidenced by my womanly bazooms.
3. I will never post photos of anybody's big butts. Unless they're mean to me. So if that happens, ba-donk-a-donk.
4. But what this finding says to me is that I talk about Sir Mix-a-Lot way too much.
5. I think I might be weird.
6. I'm fine with that.

While you're muddling together your explanations for why you're Googling big butts photos, please enjoy this. It is extremely important to watch the commercial, especially since you'll be a witness to real-life fishing emergencies.