I started this blog last year on February 14th. Since then, I’ve learned that I’m tl;dr and I don’t give two shits. I grew up on books, which are really long compared to tweets. I am too old to be a digital native. We had fucking punch cards in the house from my mother’s work when I was little to use as scratch paper. And I remember LOGO, with the turtle, and PET computers. We had an Apple IIe at home. All computer screens were either black with green letters or orange letters when I was six. What I’m getting at is I come from the land of slow information. My problem is actually too long an attention span. I spend almost a half-hour every day making stupid faces at myself in the mirror. I got really excited singing “Your girlfriend is a hoe-bag,” to the tune of “Let’s all go to the lobby,” today for a really, really long time. Nearly an hour. And I didn’t get past the fifth line without the giggles. It involves, “She has nasty feet/I read it in a tweet.” I know; pure genius. I should take this act on the road. But because I waste so much time on this bullshit, I don’t do things that matter.
What the fuck were we…oh yeah! Happy birthday to us!
THE STORY OF OCCIPITAL HAZARD
One fine day, we decided to start this blog. The name? We tried very hard to: find a combination of words that was pleasing in mouthfeel, yet had no ready-made meaning, but still could mean something if you really, really tried, but if you searched it, would come up with nearly no hits. That’s a mouthful, and very hard to do. If we start another blog, we have more phrases now. Anyways we decided to do whatever we felt like doing here, and we did. It’s odd; people ask me often what I blog about. Apparently I’m supposed to have an angle or a niche or something. Maybe I should tell them I’m a foot fetishist. Or I like cankles. Or wearing diapers.
One day we got featured on “Fresh Pressed,” where apparently great posts of WordPress are featured daily. That was odd. And a lot of people read my blog for a minute. Then they remembered that I was “too long” and they “didn’t read” this random crap and they went away. Bye, everybody! Bye-bye!
Then I started to nut up. Not in a testicular way. (My doctor said the surgery was a complete success and that won’t happen anymore.) I got sick. And my writing got weird and haunted. Wait, no first my friend died. Then I got crazy. Maybe it was the other way. Details, details. Then I was locked up. And then I got better! All without Scientology, so fuck you Doug E. Fresh (did you know he’s part of that UFO cult? Because he is. Doesn’t that make you feel gross and sad and a little dirty, like you found something sticky on your arm? No? Oh). Oh, the circle of life. I should have an old white jowly pop singer write me a soundtrack. I choose Phil Collins first, and Peter Gabriel as my backup, and Elton John as my third-string. Take a look at me now, not giving up on Daniel. Oh my god, that concert would make Tucker Carlson explode. I think that’s reason enough to make it so. Number One, engage!
And I’ve made friends online over the past year, and stalked my readers and probably creeped them out. Because I’m so popular at this school and everyone loves me so much, I have had readers in the United States, UK, Germany, Canada, South Korea, Japan, France, and recently Vietnam. Oh, and the Unknown reader. We can never forget the Unknown country reader. Hello, everybody! Hello to you! I am glad you find me appealing for whatever reasons. I say have had, because the stats vary. Sometimes the countries vary. And I don’t think they’re right, because the sources all disagree with each other. I think I have about twenty regular readers (people who read at least four or five times a week) worldwide. We should totally start a cult. We could rule the world! With an iron fist–in a velvet glove, because we care.
Anyhow. I wanted to take the time to gather my favorite entries from the past year together because, why the fuck not? It’s a party! Seer, suavé. I think I’m going to put them in a second birthday post, because I am drunk with power.
Meet you there!
*(See, McRicketts-McGee has two Mcs, and Seer is an S, so that’s Smicks for you. “Ah,” you say, “That wasn’t interesting, and I didn’t really care.”)