Google Adsense.

Google Analytics.

Like everything else that's been "Google'd" nowadays, and so has my blog mind you, google now has a tool to direct visitors to my page. Took me a month to figure out that Google Analytics just analysed who read my blog (which is nobody) rather than direct readers to it (which is also nobody). So basically, I spent a day and a half of my time trying to reach out to nobody only to find out nobody was there already. But in a nutshell, I found out that putting up my blog address on my gmail status (ironically also by google) roped in far more visitors in a week, than adsense did in a month. So that was that.

Anyway, one of those readers who did happen to chance by my blog told me that I write like an "impressionist". Now that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me either. I mean she might have as well told me that my blog contains "traces of neonatal post renaissance inferences" for all the sense it made in the world to me. It's like you're walking along downtown New Delhi one day and a Chinese guy walks up and tells you in stuttering French that the way to Nigeria is through determination. The only thing you can say then is "Duh!!"

But I'm not one of those who is prone to saying "Duh!!" that often, so I just stared with my mouth wide open. Not one to let bygones go, I googled (note the irony here too) up "impressionism" to find out what it really meant. What I got was that it was mostly authors who conveyed the subjects feelings instead of objects and incidents, and that it was mostly Ukranians who did it. (Wonder why the Chinese fella was trying to send me to Nigeria then. I don't know anybody settled in Nigeria, let alone Ukranian immigrants). But to cut a long story short, now armed with the knowledge of what impressionism was, I wanted to find out if stuff I wrote here, was really impressionism. One look at the blog was enough to make me go...."Blimey!!! No way bub!!"

I mean look at it. Does anything I ever write resemble impressionism? I mean I talk about girls and ugly chicks and their figures and stupid people and their dumbness and the stupidity of Bill Clinton and the way my roommate's face resembles a cow's hindquarters. I mean there is no way that can be called impressionistic. The only impression i ever got out of that was an outline of a foot on my hindquarters after my roommate read what I had written and planted his forelegs on my bumper. Now If I were to sit back and think what I was actually feeling when I wrote all that, all the blog would have had would be "hee hee .... tee hee hee... Damn!!! ha ha ... Oh my god!!! Hehe". But you're not reading through pages and pages of "hee hee ha ha" are you? That proves it doesn't it??

I rest my case milord.

   [ POSTED BY d_tox_ed @ 9:57 AM ] [ 5 comments ]