Thursday, September 13, 2012

Who Are These People? Or, No Seriously, Who Are These People?

 I have a handy little tool encoded on my site that allows me to keep track of how many visitors I am getting, how long they hang out and also what keyword phrases bring them to the Follies.  Not surprisingly, if you search, "Fat Girl Follies" or some combo of those word, this oasis of wit in a desert of shit if the #1 hit.

There are some some searches that I can relate to:
"Hard to date when fat" (I am #23) Yep.
"Fat girl clothing ugly" (#5) Yep.

There are some that reflect the wonderful city I call home:
"Beggars in Chicago to give or not to give" (#17)  The answer is No. Just No.
"Fat girl in Chicago Bears underwear" (#3) WTF!?! I am a Lions fan, I am insulted to be the third hit for that!

There are some that state the obvious:
"Sexy Fat Girl" (#3) Duh. This is all of us.
"Quit smoking weight gain" (#5) Duh. Up 8 pounds since quitting mid-July

Then there are some that disturb me. Deeply:
"Fat girl murder" (#2) *crickets*
"I want to murder a fat girl" (#17) *crickets*

I do not know what disturbs me more, the fact that there are people out there searching "Fat Girl Murder" or that I am the second most popular response for this query on the intrawebs. More disturbing is that there is someone out there who hates fat girls so much that he wants to MURDER one! That puts me in the potential victim pool.  And he knows I live in Chicago! It might be time to  hide my hound and run because I consider myself to be Target #1, as this crazy man thinking his searches are private has now seen my picture and knows (roughly) where I live. If he and the guy who searched "Fat Girl Murder" ever join forces I am royally effed.

Fortunately, there is some hope in humanity.  While I am keeping a vigil watch out for fat girl murderers, I will also be trying to find the person who found my site my searching, "Handle of Tanqueray." We would be great friends as we both already love gin.

Oh, and the fact that he does not want to murder me.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Too Much of Your Personal Life, Even for Me.

Dear Woman On The Brown Line,

We have all had days when we are struggling to make it out the door in one piece.  I have had days that I did not realize I only put mascara on one eye until I got home or wore a shirt inside out for the better part of the day. I get it. Sometimes there just is not enough time to get it all done at home and perhaps some time prepping on the L is necessary.

Whatever your reason was for needing to groom on a packed morning-rush hour car last week, it does not excuse you or justify the fact that you plucked your nose hair on the train. I did not bat an eye when you pulled a compact out of your purse. And while I did think it was odd you had tweezers, I figured you were just going to snag a stray piece of unibrow that popped up.  However, nothing could prepare me for the sight of watching you repeatedly pull stray hairs out of your snout and proceed to drop them idly onto the shoes of those standing near. I mean, really woman??? Of all of the times you could shove tweezers up your nose and pull out hair was on your way to work?!? I realize that I should not be so creeped out as it was not an issue for me when I thought it was a piece of eyebrow you were extracting, but the fact is that public nose hair grooming is not something I am ready to accept.

And in all honestly, lady, let's look at the big picture. You were wearing black capris that had teal seahorses and magenta sea shells embroidered on them. I think we can both agree you have bigger issues to address than a few stray nose hairs.

Your Friend,

Sunday, September 2, 2012

I Count One Sad Girl, Ah Ah Ah

Fewer things remind me of how lucky of a girl  I am than when personal tragedy strikes my world. My friends have an incredible way of rallying around me and helping me pull through the darkness.  They remind me that in a great loss, there is joy to be found from the happiness that was once in my world. My wonderful friends remind me of the happy times to help my tears and sobs turn to smiles and laughter.

I recently went through a loss that rocked my world worse than when Davy Jones passed away. Jerry Nelson, a puppeteer for Sesame Street, passed away. You may question why I am so torn up over a puppeteer from a children's show.  The answer is that Nelson brought life and voice to the first man I ever loved:

Count von Count

Yes, Count von Count was my first real crush in life.  I hesitate to even call him a crush, because crushes fade over time whereas I harbor a love much deeper for The Count. To this day, I get silly thinking about him. There is something about this arithmomaniac that just makes me feel happy and warm inside. Even watching him as an adult, I always felt as if the flashes of thunder and lightning after he successfully counted were for me because he knew that I love storms.   I carry an unhealthy jealously towards both Countess von Backwards and Countess Dahling von Dahling for getting to be the romantic love interests of The Count.

Like so many heartbroken women before me, I would channel my pain over seeing his preference for another woman into something creative, such as making The Count the first time I ever worked with gumpaste:
Made of pure sugar cause he's so sweet.

While I know that technically The Count is not gone, Nelson was the man who gave life to my sweet Count. I am sure the new puppeteer for Count will do a lovely job but it just won't be the same. When I read of Nelson's passing, I felt crushed inside knowing that the Count that I know and love is gone as well. Will The Count2.0 have the same level of manic crazy when he gets interrupted? How will his sorrow for running out of things to count translate now? It was just all too much to think about and I needed to grieve, hence why I was reminded that my friends are amazing. I heard from 18 people over Mr. Nelson's passing.  Messages, texts, a  facebook post and a few phone calls all came in from concerned friends expressing their sympathies.  Big Brother made it a point to ask how I was coping when we met up for a beer.

Think about it, almost 20 people in my life reached out to me when the puppeteer of The Count died, which allows us to draw two conclusions:
1. My friends are amazing,
2. My friends also suspect that I am an unstable whack job

Regardless of whether my sanity should be questioned because I carry a flame for a piece of animated felt, the pain I have felt in knowing that The Count I love will never be back is very real.  I have always considered Count von Count my personal, "One That Got Away," and Mr. Nelson's death just solidifies that fact for me.

It's a tough pill to swallow, to know that this dream will never be a reality:
What was once a high hope is now a mere shattered dream

Thank you to everyone who has helped me through this challenging period in my life.  And to Jerry Nelson, I hope you are at peace.  Thanks for bringing The Count to life and allowing me feel a love that I will carry in my heart for a lifetime.

Rest in Peace, Jerry.