Josh Bell Loves Pete’s Pride Pink Ribbon Pork Fritters

Okay, not really.  I mean, Josh would probably like them, but there is no such thing.  Dang it.  Pete’s Pride is totally missing out on some mad marketing AND alliteration opportunities.

As you guys surely know by now, I’m a big nerd who gets a whole lot of amusement out of perusing the search engine terms people have used to find this blog.  Some things are to be expected, especially since we’re nearing October, like the current top three for the past 30 days: “pink ribbon cake pan”, “pink ribbon cake”, and “pink ribbon”.  But the 4th item on the list is a little puzzling to me—Richard Simmons.  Really?  Is October Richard Simmons Awareness Month, too?  Wonder what color the ribbon is for that one.  Is sequined a color?  Richard Simmons beat out the perpetual favorite “bald girlfriend” (I’m pretty sure that I really, really don’t want to know the motivation behind that one) and the believe it or not “pork fritter” is way down the list at number 8.  Pork fritter fans need not worry, however, because in the all time search engine term standings, the humble pork fritter holds 3 of the top 5 slots.

And speaking of pork fritter fans…if you’ve been keeping up on the comments, you know that our friend Nanine is a transplanted Hoosier, living in Texas, who has been searching for Pete’s Pride Pork Fritters to no avail.  Of course, since we ARE pretty high on the google results, she ended up here, and asked if I knew who makes Pete’s Pride.  I didn’t, but I do now.  I don’t know why I was even at all surprised to learn that Pete’s Pride Pork Fritters are manufactured by Al Pete Meats (recently acquired by Monogram Foods) in none other than Muncie, Indiana.   Why of course they are!  Where else?  So, Nanine, I hope this helps you in your quest.  Keep us posted—we love having an excuse to write about pork fritters. (We also love referring to ourselves in the first person plural.)

Now back to those searches.  It gives me a chuckle every time someone gets here from googling “Josh Bell poet” or some other variation.  If you recall, my old friend Josh has the distinct misfortune of sharing his name with another extremely famous Josh from Indiana.  Hence, folks looking for my friend must include poetry/poem/poet in their search.  However, like other violin-toting super villains, the fantastically famous Joshua Bell will stop at nothing in his quest to squash my dear Josh like a bug—going so far as to title one of his albums “Poeme”.  Really, can there be any other explanation for this?  So, it was especially amusing to me when some obviously determined fan of my Josh recently got here by searching “josh bell poetry or poem or poet not violinist”.   Take that, you fancy fiddler.

This weekend is the local Race for the Cure.  Yes, I’m going.  No, I’m probably not doing the survivor parade.  Wearing the pink shirt is about as much as you can expect from me.  And Thursday is the first day of October, so get those Pink Ribbon Overload pictures to me.  I’ll be starting off the month with one of my own finds and the story of how it came into my possession.  That’s right, I actually own this one, but even that’s not the whole story, so check back with me on Thursday afternoon to get the scoop.

Breath Cancer

As you guys know, I like to keep tabs on the Google search engine terms that land people on my blog.  It’s not that I’m all about the marketing or anything like that.  I’m not sitting around trying to figure out what keywords to use in order to generate the maximum amount of traffic.  Although, I do get immense pleasure out of being high up on the search results for Pete’s Pride Pork Fritters, and have been known to work a pork fritter reference randomly into just about any post.  This serves a dual purpose, by both bolstering my Pete’s Pride position on Google, and allowing an atrocious amount of alliteration.  Heh heh.  I am nothing if not and incorrigible word nerd.  But at least as amusing to me as the Pete’s Pride Pork Fritter thing, (score!  I just snuck in another one!) are some of the bizarre phrases that people Google in order to end up here. 

 Included on the list of recent searches was one for “breath cancer black rollerskates”.  Breath.  Cancer.  Now I’m not sure if this was merely a typo, or perhaps this person has a speech impediment.  I figure, I write like I talk, so why shouldn’t they, right?  Ah, but I suppose in that case they would have searched for “breath canther black roller thkates”.  So, okay, maybe that’s not what was going on with this one.  Maybe they really were searching for breath cancer roller skates (in black, please, because if breath cancer could be seen, it would most certainly be black or at least very very dark green).

 I’ve never heard of breath cancer before, but I’m by no means an expert on such things.  And, if it exists, why it sure would explain the halitosis some folks have.  Oh, snap, do you think my dog has breath cancer?  I bet there’s a special day for that, too.  National Canine Breath Cancer Survivors Day—a holiday that’s as much for those of us who have survived an encounter with our dog’s breath, as it is for the furry survivors themselves. You know, I seem to remember seeing breast cancer awareness kitty litter—how ironic would it be if that were Canine Breath Cancer awareness kitty litter?  Huh? That’d be a whole lot like lung cancer awareness Marlboros.  Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen it.

I Feel a Song Coming On…

Okay, so now for a little bit of randomness.  (Shocking, I know.)

In case you haven’t noticed, yesterday’s post was the first in a couple of weeks.  Now, what you probably don’t know is that when I don’t post, I don’t even visit my blog.  At all.  And now you’re like, “So? Why would you? To see if you wrote anything new yet?”  No, Smartypants, when I’ve been writing, I obsess over frequently check my blog stats.  How many people have been there?  Has anyone left a witty response? Have there been any publishers offering book deals in the comments?  Also, I re-read the thing, like, 652 times just to make sure I didn’t miss any typos.  And, I even look at all the stuff that’s not really related to the current post like how many hits I’ve had from people searching for Pete’s Pride Pork Fritters, and what bizarre search engine terms have led people here lately.

So, because I hadn’t written, and therefore hadn’t been here at all, I’m just now seeing the great searches that were performed on my birthday.  Are you guys doing this on purpose?  Believe it or not I had three, yes, three searches on my birthday involving roller skating.  One of which was “why people like roller skating.”  Seriously?  Seriously?  Who needs to ask this?  Hubster, was that you?  (Oh, I’m sorry, that would be the “why people like dorky videos” search.)  Um, why do people like roller skating?  Hmm.  Let me think…gee, how about because it’s fun?  I mean, where else but the skating rink can you zoom around on wheels, to music, under a disco ball, AND watch people fall at the same time?  Besides heaven, I mean.  What’s not to like?  Sheesh. 

Then there was this one: skating alliteration.  No. Way.  Someone actually googled that and ended up here?  Sweet.  Those are, like, two of my favorite things.  Skating and saying something that starts with the same sound.  Heh heh.  Another one of my favorite things is rewriting songs.  Songs like, well, My Favorite Things

Rewriting lyrics and butchering classics

Shocking the Hubster with kisses of static

Watching folks falling at the skating rink

These are the best things in life—so I think.

 

Writing in rhymes or with alliteration

Disco balls, coffee and procrastination

Big chunky jewelry and shoes with some bling

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Black raspberry pie and some laughing out loud

Yard-saling bargains and days without clouds

Having more hair than I had just last spring

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

When the sun’s gone

And my mood swings

When I’m feeling sad

I simply go get a big plate of cheese fries

(And vanilla Coke added straight to my thighs)

And then I don’t feel so bad

 

Yeah, I know, I don’t understand why no one is beating down my door to offer me a recording contract, either.  Perhaps it’s because I can’t sing my way out of a wet paper bag.