When I’m Not Walking Around in a Bikini With My Pierced Navel on Display

Summer is upon us and I live on the shores of Lake Ontario.  I’ve reluctantly come in from my Tropicana oil tanning and bun jiggling beach volleyball with young men in the 24-29 age range to discover that WordPress has gone all contemporary on me and changed the dashboard set up, etc.  Fair enough.  Last time I posted was June 17, which in blogging years might as well be a lifetime ago. That’s what I get for staying away for so long.

I’m back because I popped in to look at stats while eating ice cream out of the bucket, which I can do only because the kids are away at the cottage.  Shit, I thought mid-spoonful, I’ve got to get it together and put something out there for our… seven hundred and thirty-three followers.

What?

733?

Where the hell did all of these people come from and how come only 11 likes and 12 comments appeared on the last Cougar Den labour-of-love post?  What subject do we need to tackle to entice the other 721 to ring in?

Is there a secret binary code that I can d1sgu1se 1n the b0dy 0f a p0st that w1ll be g00d en0ugh t0 make all 0f the b0ts l1ke us?  Is bot love as encouraging as real follower love?  Some of the bot comments contain magic words such as “I love what you did with that subject” and “Please contact me to discuss more about your success.”  Some days, when I need it, it speaks to me.  Usually it just takes a moment to figure out how pathetic that is and I permanently delete the trash.  Really.

As I sink into summer, erratic scheduling (wait, if I don’t have to get up at 6:30am every weekday to make school lunches what the hell is time and life all about?) and junk food (but sooo good), I’m clearly going to have to jot down some doozy ideas and get the blogging juices flowing.  Helen won’t be far behind.  Fear not humans and bots, the cougs are back.