Is there lipstick on my blog's teeth?

It's an unfortunate fact that I am afraid of most audiences. I know what you're thinking - Newsflash dude, you're a blogger. Yes, but that's different. Ask me to climb onto a stage and dance for anyone with a set of eyes and/or ears… Pffft. Fat chance. Not even for pretend. Not even if the audience is comprised of my five most favorite people in the universe whom I KNOW for a fact wouldn’t say a mean word about me, even if their very breath depended on it. Forget that these people don't actually exist…I could never do it for them anyway. Neither can I fathom putting a microphone to my mouth and giving a rendition of… anything resembling a song. Not even for laughs. Well, okay. Maybe if I was sufficiently inebriated. But sober? The stakes would have to be pretty high. And even then I’d have to be blindfolded and given a set of ear plugs, all the while complaining about how I am SO going to resent someone for this later. I cannot do a lot of things that require people watching. Listening. Giving me a slice of their undivided attention, however momentarily.

And yet, yes, I am one of a gazillion that puts on a virtual orange wig and a neon tutu to perform via blog. With superfluous amounts of pleasure even. Why? Maybe it’s because your eyes and ears are a safe distance away. I can’t hear the sound of crickets through my computer when my jokes fall flat. I can’t tell if your eyes are rolling when I’m snarkier than the average bitch. And it's funny how I can conveniently forget that almost every one of my relatives, college roommates, previous co-workers, high school acquaintances, and favorite authors have access to the internet these days and can wander here, even if by accident. But there’s also this other small fact - I get, on average, only 15 to 20 visitors per day. Aside from the people who wander here in search of cryptic tonsil pictures, Velveeta meatloaf recipes, and stories about The D-cup Boobs Singapore Group, I assume all the other visitors are my fellow bloggers. My peeps. People who pet my head when I’m down. Or cheer me on when I’m NanoWriting. People who sprinkle Happy Comment dust across this URL and lift my spirits to new and improved heights with their intrinsic loveliness. The protective walls of my monitor, the silence within my blog space, and the familiar visitors who make their presence known in kind ways, all help provide me with a comfortably false sense of security.

So you can imagine my consternation when I received 170 lurkers last Thursday. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY. High-traffic days might be normal for the good bloggers. But I’m here to tell you it ain’t normal on the banks of the Rio Grande. Just look at the proof. Thursday is downright vulgar…it’s like a stiff middle finger in my graph of visits. If I’d just posted about nudity and creative camerawork, there would be no stupefaction in regard to my visitors. But come on...bad breath and goat farming? Besides, I checked the stats, and there were no strange and new Google searches that brought them sniffin' around, not even for something like “How to help birth a coyote” Or “Gasp! Blogger knowingly feeds cheap peanut butter to innocent livestock!” A Google search on my own self turned out to be just as fruitless. No mentions of my website in Writers Digest. Nothing about me on Ze Frank's message board. So who are you and why didn't a single one of you say hi, much less, "You bad, bad stink-breath mother, you!"??

I realize that commenting isn't a requirement when blog-reading. I don't comment every single time I'm presented with the opportunity to do so. But, pray tell.... What brough you all here on the same day?? I know I should feel flattered that my numbers rose exponentially for a blip in blog time. But here's a little insight into my personality for ya — I feel more like toilet paper was unknowingly trailing from my blog’s rear end for a day. Paranoid? Maybe. Neurotic? Sometimes. Social phobe? Hmm. I hadn’t considered that one, but okay. Insecure? What blogger isn’t every now and then? Feeling sleep-deprived and needing a little drinky-poo after dinner? You're obviously a regular at catherinedix.com. And, if I haven’t said so lately, THANK YOU for that.