One year on

Can you believe it's been one year since I started this blog? Geeze, if you were one of the original two or three people paying attention, you might have spent almost a million characters of your ocular reading time on me.

I'm flattered. Really, I am.

And to celebrate this special anniversary, I've done something I hear a lot of parents do. Proud parents of kids apparently get their booties or shoes bronzed. Why? I honestly have no clue. What could bronzing of footwear do for a memory that photos can't.

Regardless, I'm not that cheap. I'll go for gold… and gold I have because I've decided to gold plate my first post!

So there it is… my gold-plated brand spankin'… err… old… first… post… thingy.

And this is the year in review. One year on… what have I learned, what haven't I learned, what have I decided to launch in a catapult to go hurtling at the nearest large and most depressing object… well… I'll tell you. 

In the past year, I've made a total of 277 entries. A bit of a shame that as I had intended to hit 300 but that'll happen soon enough.
That's a lot of writing. So much that if you ever get ridiculously bored and masturbation isn't enough to break you out of your stupor, I expect that reading my blog could either cause a massive fit of laughter, a coma, or the need to reinvent how masturbation actually works.

Statistics-wise, The Big Clit is still my most read blog. People are still reading that shit about landmarks on big vaginas. Seriously. I got one comment recently from a guy who told me I was a loser. He's probably right, though I wrote about that in jest. What does it say for the hordes of people who do a search on one of a variety of ways of writing "big clit" on Google? There seem to be plenty of them.

According to the stats, many of the people visiting my blog are finding it with the following sorts of searches:

  • big clit
  • biggest clit
  • what does a pussy look like
  • nip tac
  • leighlo.com
  • freakishly large clit
  • big clit blogs
  • gloria jean's hillsong
  • over sized clits
  • how to wear a trilby

As you can see, there seems to be a trend in that a fair amount of people who visit my site are obsessed with clits.

So there's one lesson for the year: don't write about clits.

Seriously, you write one article about the bloody things and people just don't get off of your clit… or back… whatever… one of them.

That said… it's probably unlikely to stop me from writing about sexual subjects. It's just too much fun. Sex is so damn easy to make fun of… especially in the written blogged form where virtually no one is reading it. That's entirely against the point but still. 

And now I'm making absolutely no sense!

Cie la vie. Or however you spell that. I think that's right.

So what have I learned this year…

Well, I've learned that I seem to have a lot of connections. I don't know why and I'm not sure how, but people seem to know me. Whether they remember the hat or my left nostril, I have no idea… but people seem to remember me… or recall my face… and then start talking to me. Which is odd because most of the time I really have nothing to say. Or I do and it's just not what they want to hear.

Ahhh… the problem with being direct. Subtleties don't evade me, I just don't care to dance around an issue. 

I seriously don't know what I've learned this year, to be honest. I think I'm more direct and more truthful. I'm certainly still a bit cocky and very much insane, though I call it insane and everyone else calls it eccentric. I guess it depends on the point of view you look at it from. I've learned it's not a good idea to bring expensive torches to events because people can be ass-munchers and steal the bloody things. I've learned more of the electric bass than I guess I'd ever have learned, though I am a cellist so the step isn't that big of a deal.

What haven't I learned?

I still don't know the meanings to various words I can't recall right now. I still haven't learned how to "pick up" a girl, short of my adventures at random locations like the Bondi Road Pick-Up joint and model parties. I still can't play piano despite a constant desire to learn. I haven't bought a cello yet though I'm really, really, really tempted now because I have a job.

Which brings me to "what's changed". 

I have a job. My employee status has changed to "every so often, the working contractor who gets jobs out of nowhere and rarely buys himself crap" to "technology journalist who has a job that he has to go to everyday and can now buy himself crap as well as getting the odd freebie". My my, how things change.

I haven't had sex in a while.
I haven't had a girlfriend in a while.
I haven't had a kiss in a while.

All these "I haven't had"'s are a bit depressing, you know, cause I'd have liked to "have had" some of them. But that's just the life I live.

I have found some great friends. That's cool. Very cool.

I am working on more side-projects. Animation. Books. Independent photo and coding projects. Things to make my head tick more. I love having my brain working on things constantly. Too much idle time in most brains… it's not a good thing. 

I'm really having fun putting things in bold. I feel so happy and insane and spasmaspiffletastic doing so. Bold, bold, bold, I tell you! Too much sugar for me.

I'm going to get to work on this diet a bit more seriously. I feel a need to. There's something in me changing. I don't like the little bit of flesh I've always had. I want it gone… pronto.  

And while I haven't been blogging as much lately as I would have been doing a year ago comparatively, that's not going to stop me from writing. I need to write. I feel compelled to write. To tell people of all the crap I see and all the crap I don't. Maybe you want to hear about some of the stuff I'm doing and who I'm doing it with. Maybe you don't. Seriously, it doesn't bother me… just don't waste your life pretending to be someone you're not. 

Stories and news and the cards that life & CityRail constantly deal to me. I'll continue writing about them if you'll continue reading them.

And even if you don't, good luck shutting me up. 

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