Lazy Sunday Post: Where Are You Coming From?

I make a lot of jokes on this blog about how small my audience is. So many in fact, I'm not sure what I'll do if I ever do develop any kind of audience. I'll be like a fat comedian who finally lost weight. (Sidebar: was that joke offensive? Doesn't matter, nobody reads these. SEE! I did it again!) Today though, I'd like to spend an entire Sunday evening breaking down that very small audience, because it confuses me. A lot.

For starters, did you know that my Crackpot Theory explaining Sharknado garnered 25 views, compared to the five and two views of the only other posts on this blog at the time. A 500% increase in readership over the course of a single post! I'm not statistician, but that sounds like a really big jump on paper.

Pictured: Not a statistician.

Weirder still, is that following that post, readership plummeted right back down, and did not exceed that view count until the recorded breaking Squirrel Survey Setup garnered 35 views. That post, as I mentioned earlier, was the first to be tweeted about upon its release, with a follow-up post on Facebook.

Now, I can track the amount of clicks the links I put up get, and the most clicked link I've ever posted (at time of writing) has... eleven clicks. That leaves fourteen page views completely unaccounted for on the last article. Also, there is a single person in Germany who clicks my links. I don't know who you are, but whoever you are, you sir/madam are a champion.

According to Bloggers stats page, most of my traffic is coming from google.com. That makes about as much sense to me as a female demographic does to Warner Brothers (Oh snap!), which leads me with one central question:

Everybody reading this right now, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? Or to phrase that in less yell-y sort of way, exactly what led you to this blog? Specifically this entry? I know it's a total hassle, but if you could take two minutes to explain in the comments the chain of events that led you to here, it would be much appreciated. I also apologize in advance, as I'm sure you were expecting something a lot more interesting.

I'm just trying to get a sense of what's going on here, maybe figure out how to reach more people the same way I reached kind, handsome, and charming folks such as youself. And if you help me out by taking the time to write such a comment, I'll be sure to include a shoutout to you in my next YouTube video. By the way, I have a YouTube channel. Did you know? Go check it out, it's great. It also has extremely low viewership, for equal reasons I equally cannot explain.

But mark my words, this image will appear in a video. 

Lazy Sunday Post: ¡Soy Coconut!

Before I go any further, let me just say that it was way more of a hassle than it should have been to type out that title. I won't name any characters, but someone *cough* upside down exclamation point *cough* has a very stupid keyboard code that turns my current tab into a new tab.

So that happened. On with the actual point of this post.

As many of you may have notice, I am an extremely handsome shade of brown. For those of you who haven't noticed, take a minimum of ten minutes to admire the handsomeness of the below photo.

Awwwww yeah.

I know, right?

The beautiful shade you see before you is a result of my fiery Latin heritage. My mother was a full blooded Puerto Rican (Rican is a word, Blogger. Racist.) and my father was a Mexican more than anything else. Such a heritage came with great many things. Homemade tortillas on Sundays, eating a lot of tacos, knowing what a tostada actually is, and having someone yell ¡sientete! at you when you were a little kid.

One thing it did not end up coming with though, was the ability to actually speak Spanish. Early on in my childhood, I had a lot of visits from my mother's side of the family, and those people spoke Spanish like it was going out of style. Because of this, 'lil Phoenix didn't know the English words for rice and underwear until he was like, two.

From a childhood like that, you'd probably have guessed I was on the road to bilingualism. Unfortunately, I guess people just sort of stopped speaking Spanish around me, because eventually I stopped speaking it too. I also went on to lose the ability to name the make and model of any car I saw, and decided that blueberries were disgusting. I made some poor choices in my developing years.

And now, after all that Spanglish in childhood, and three years of Spanish in high school, I can declare myself to be a backpack, and family get togethers remain so much bargled (not a word but it is now) speech intermixed with the occasional use of the word "with."

And to put the icing on this coconut-y cake, Wings actually speaks better Spanish than I do.

Yo quero ser un hippopotoma.

That's it for this Sunday folks. Cheers.