On Webstats and Fan Mail


I've got one of those nifty web statistics utilities going that gives me all sorts of useful/less information about who and how many are visiting my blog. Statistics is a rather absurd term for single and occassional double-digit numbers, but the geek gene runs strong in these veins and so I check the stats every few days anyway.

Recently there has been a major shift in the traffic to the site. In the past, most of my discerning readers came to me via Google searches for Bride of Chucky or ring-o-fire graphics and a disturbing number of these were from France. What French Bride of Chucky fans might look like (close your eyes and imagine a cross between Beavis and Charles DeGaulle with a Black Sabbath t-shirt and pierced eyebrow...) is something that causes me great trouble falling to sleep at night, but I was grateful for their readership in spite of the fact that the stats showed they spent an average of 12 whole seconds poking around.

Recently however, there has been a decided shift to referrals from Callalillie.com, where I have been known to post comments from time to time. Though sometimes these are positive, helpful little tidbits of knowing advice, more often they are snide/snarky attempts at humor. This is, of course, completely allowable in that I contributed exactly half the genes that Callalillie currently calls her own. That she should now be helping to inflate this blog into double-digit stats is the least that she might do until the time comes when she has to shovel babyfood into my slack jaw.

An unintended consequence of this situation is that I have actually developed a FAN, no TWO fans! - and they are women! The first wrote a piece about me on her blog where she called me a "cool dad", a species that is apparently endangered these days. Now a second has emerged, writing an email to callalillie asking her to urge bobtrancho to post more frequent entries because he is "SO witty" and makes her "laugh out loud" (not a good idea while working at that law office, Maura, they'll think your laughing at them - you know how sensitive lawyers are about lawyer jokes...)

I am, of course, flattered by this tidal wave of celebrity. I've started wearing sunglasses on my trips down to the Price Chopper and am trying to decide which agency should represent me.

But I may not be ready for this leap into notoriety. What do I do when screaming women tear at my clothes while I'm at the post office. How do I explain the panties tossed at me in the library? What if that site visitor from Holland sends me pictures wearing nothing but a tulip or two?

I'll just have to try to take it as it comes...


Sorry Mr. Trancho, I just got into the moment and -- the library being such a sexy venue -- couldn't contain myself. But if you wouldn't mind, sir, could I have my panties back please?

Victoria Secret has discontinued them, and well, they're kind of special to me. Thanks.

A bit incongruous that you refer to me as Mr. Trancho after hurling the panites my way, don't you think?

But anyway Jason, the panties are yours to reclaim the next time you are the neighborhood...

Price Chopper? Well, it's much easier to become a minor celebrity in any place that has a Price Chopper. I say, take your 15 minutes while you can!

Without a doubt, being in a a Price Choppah New England town has its advantages. But if this takes off, I might have to move to a place with a population of say, 5,000, in order to get lost in the crowd.

Gee whiz, Mr. T.! I should have saved one of your dlicious yet low-cal cookies for embalming when I had the chance. I'd have put it next to my used Vanilla Ice napkin.

Hey Mr. T - you probably have more fans than you think! I've been lurking for a while...oh I guess I did make one comment a while ago on some geeky grammar something-or-other but ah well...I thoroughly enjoy your site! And definitely am a fan. :-)


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This page contains a single entry by published on February 16, 2005 9:04 PM.

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