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Many thanks to Shelli for another great guest post yesterday, as the Summer of Love at 2HT continues. She wrote more about this entire “Alpha Blogger” discussion that’s still going on. Tomorrow it’ll be the DutchBitch herself from the DutchFiles.
I also want to pimp out SecondHand Radio. Another episode is coming up on Sunday afternoon and my guest this week is the drop-dead gorgeous author of Sexography
I have the feeling that we’ll talk about sex a great deal. You know, in between all the fawning and hitting on Carly, of course. I totally want to go out with her.
I realized that in my many detailed recaps of BrittCon last week (they’re easy to find…just click on the Archives above and you’ll see them), I forgot to include some photos. I mean, I forgot to TAKE a few photos and include them.
First is a picture of the cool stress balls (TWKS) I got in Chinatown. “For you? Six dolla!”
They’re very cool and kind of sing/jingle when you play with them. Much like my own balls.
Next is something truly amazing. As you all know, my name is Karl. My last name is Erikson. So it’s not surprising, really, that I’ve spelled my name hundreds of thousands of times in my life to date. Every single school teacher, every single nurse or doctor I’ve seen, every time I’ve registered for a class or a seminar, every time a friend has put me in their cell phone…always with the spelling.
There are different ways to do it, of course.
That’s Karl with a “K”.
Erikson with no C’s.
Karl Erikson - no C’s anywhere. (Which is most always followed by, “What do you mean?”)
Because as soon as I say my name is Karl, whoever is on the other side of the desk or phone starts writing “Carl.” I’m not usually quick enough with the “with a K.” So when I DO say “it’s with a K” they just put a vertical line attached to the C to create some sort of mutant K.
This used to bother me a lot growing up. For a while there, I hated my name because I hated spelling it over and over and over. I really had to spend a lot of time pondering what my domain name would be because of the spelling. After all, it DOES matter when you’re typing in the URL. I thought about secondhandtryptophan.com but that’s even more of a spelling nightmare than Karl. In the end, I said screw it and went with secondhandkarl.com. Obviously. And yeah, if you type in karlerikson.com it forwards here, too. Maybe some day I’ll do something with that domain. I doubt it.
Now I dig my name - it’s unique - and I’m really desensitized to the spelling. In fact, unless it’s something crucial - such as medical records or Social Security or taxes or paychecks - I just don’t even bother spelling it. If I’m at a restaurant, for example, and I give my name to wait on a table, I don’t worry about the spelling. It SOUNDS the same either way, so why spend an extra 5 seconds correcting them? Not worth it.
But one of the things about having a unique name is that you can never find any personalized souvenirs that are spelled “correctly.” If I go to Disneyworld and look for a cup or a magnet or keychain with “Karl” on it, I’m always left out. It’s not disappointing to me any more…it just IS.
Yes, in today’s world, I can easily personalize something with my name spelled correctly, thanks to companies on the Net like Zazzle. But it’s not the same as finding something in a sea of mugs that says “Karl” and not “Carl.”
I have NEVER EVER seen any personalized merchandise with “Karl” on it. EVER.
Until I went to New York City and we went through a souvenir shop full of t-shirts and magnets and mugs and all the other stuff people buy to prove they were actually in NYC.
And when I saw this, I nearly cried.
It’s just a silly little piece of embossed tin. But it says Karl. With a K. And when I saw it, I cried aloud, “Oh my GOD!” Britt and Becky came over to see what the big deal was. And it was/is a big deal, believe me. I explained to them that it was the first and only time I’ve seen my name spelled correctly on a silly little piece of tin (or anything else) and they smiled and said, “Cool” but I don’t think they got it.
I have never spent $5.99 more readily and happily than I did that night. I love my little license plate. And it wouldn’t surprise me, honestly, if I never again experience another personalized souvenir spelled correctly. And I’m perfectly OK with that. I’ll be 42 in a couple of months and I’ve now found something…one thing…spelled correctly.
So Alyson, my lovely daughter, don’t quit looking in stores. All things are possible. Yes, you can curse Dad because I’m the one who picked your first name. Your mom picked your middle name.
Ashley, you’re welcome. You got lucky with a name that’s fairly popular. You can thank your mother for that because I picked your middle name and your mom picked your first name.
In other news, the NEW iPHONE comes out today! I’m like an excited little kid on Christmas Eve. I want to drive to Orlando’s Apple Store and get an iPhone RIGHT NOW! I’m currently negotiating with Britt and my mother like some foreign trade summit to make this happen. Yes, I’m going to be at Adam’s house on Monday, anyway, but like Veruca Salt I WANT IT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
And, in other other news, I recently received a huge box from a publishing company, full of lovely goodies. BOOKS!
I won these over at Whit’s place as a Father’s Day package. Thanks, Whit.
Very cool. Lots of books that I wouldn’t buy myself. Some of them sports-related. War books. Books that require me to have more testosterone than I own. But I look forward to reading them. I don’t think I really need the “Dude’s Guide to Pregnancy.” Pretty much have that one covered. Plus, I’ve been fixed and it’s gonna take a hell of a woman to make me go under the knife down THERE again.
Filed under Guest Post, Local Goings On, Travel, Web/Tech | Comments (39)
Thanks to SJ for another great guest post here in the Summer of Love. Yes, it’s true, I hate LOLcats AND I hate the “word” w00t. But SJ was able to take both concepts and make me laugh…not easy.
Tomorrow it’ll be Shelli from Shelli’s Sentiments! Woo hoo!
I’ve had people ask me recently why I’m never on chat. It’s true that I am kind of allergic to chatting, though I go through some chat spurts once in a while. Most of the time, chatting is rather boring for me, truth be told. Unless I’m chatting with a good friend like Hilary.
And because it’s such a rare occurrence, me chatting, on the odd occasion I DO get online with my chat client I get barraged with people hitting me up for chat. Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing! Suddenly there are 15 windows open and I don’t even have enough hair to pull out at the moment. It’s overwhelming.
So there you have it…why Karl hardly ever chats.
I’ve heard the term “Alpha Blogger” batted around the blogiverse for a while now, so it’s nothing new. What IS new is that I’ve recently been labeled an Alpha Blogger myself. Huh? ME?
I don’t know how you could possibly confuse me as an Alpha Blogger. Hell, I don’t even know how you DEFINE Alpha Blogger. So let’s look it up, shall we?
If you look up the definition of Alpha Blogger on Allwords.com you come up with the following:
alpha blogger
noun
- (internet) A very popular, widely read blogger.
Hmm, okay. That gives us at least a starting point to discuss the term. How, then, do you define “popular” and “widely read?” I get a decent amount of traffic, I suppose, if you’re going to use statistics as a metric. Nothing amazing, really, but I’m happy with the traffic I get.
According to Woopra, I get anywhere from 120-500 unique visitors a day. Nowhere near some people I know, like Jester or Dave, but still.
So is it traffic stats that make you an Alpha Blogger? If so, I don’t think I qualify.
Is it comments? Again, I don’t think I’d qualify. I generally get 20-40 comments a day. Sure, there are some posts that generate more comments, but that’s a common phenomenon on most blogs. When I’m writing a post, I can’t gauge whether or not it’s going to get a ton of comments. Seems to be arbitrary, which ones get more attention than others.
Then there are odd cases like Jester’s blog. During one of his hourly radio shows, we talked about blog traffic and he mentioned he gets quite a lot of hits every day, but very few comments. He gets far more traffic than I do; yet I get far more comments than he does. How the hell does that fit into the Alpha Blogger scheme of things? I have no idea. But he was thrown into the same Alpha Blogger pool that I was.
I admit that when I hear the term Alpha Blogger I kind of get the heebie jeebies. It smacks of elitism somehow, at least when you hear it in the context it’s often used. Someone said recently, “Oh, you’re one of those Alpha Bloggers, aren’t you?” in the same sort of tone you might say, “Oh, I just stepped in dog shit, didn’t I?”
I replied, “Who, me?”
It’s true that I hang with some really good bloggers, some of them with relatively large readerships. Hilly, Miss Britt, Avitable, Dave, Kapgar, and the list goes on and on. But that’s what happens when you reside on the Internets…you connect with people. You find good blogs to read, you comment, and eventually those people check out YOUR blog and hopefully bookmark it. Over time, you become friends and you introduce them to other friends…they introduce YOU to some of THEIR friends, etc. That’s the nature of the Internet.
Everyone has their own little corner of the Internet, populated with their friends. Some of these corners overlap here and there. But MY little corner is certainly not an elite group. It’s not something that “outsiders” can’t get into. (For a nominal fee, of course. *cough*) Really, it’s pretty simple. Write good blog posts on a semi regular basis and you’re pretty much in. Come to TequilaCon or any of the other blogger gettogethers and you’re pretty much in. There’s no secret formula, really. We joke about the PRB (People’s Republic of Blogistan) but really have no idea what the boundaries of this little country are.
But having a little corner in the blogiverse does not make you an Alpha Blogger. Those are totally separate issues and somehow they seem to have gotten lumped together.
Alpha Bloggers, to me, are people like Heather Armstrong, Robert Scoble, Arianna Huffington, and Seth Godin. People in the Technorati Top 100. They get mega traffic and are probably raking in the major money from their blogs, too.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d LOVE to be an Alpha Blogger. More specifically, I’d love to make a living from my blog. But that’s not the case. As it is, I get enough to cover my monthly blogging costs, but that’s about it.
If anything, I’m a C-List Blogger. Or a SecondHand Blogger. And that’s just fine. For now. 
What do you think? Am I an Alpha Blogger? What defines an “Alpha Blogger” for you? Is it a clique thing or a popularity thing? Both? Go ahead and discuss. I really want to know. I mean, if I’m going to belong to a club I think I ought to know how the hell I got in in the first place.
Filed under Blogging, Uncategorized, Web/Tech, Weblogs | Comments (63)
Yes, I’m fully aware that I’ve used the word “ass” in my title two days in a row.
Tomorrow The Summer of Love continues with SJ as my guest poster.
Many thanks to Sarah over at Sad and Beautiful World for being my guest on yesterday’s SecondHand Radio. We talked about photography, Internet dating, and how messed up her garden is. It was a lot of fun. You can download the show if you missed it, or find it in iTunes - just search for “Secondhand Radio” and it’ll pop up in short order.
So July is supposed to be Cell Phone Courtesy Month. I find it ironic that this is the brainchild of Sprint, since they break so many courtesy rules with their fucking walkie-talkie feature. Wasn’t it bad enough before, when I had to listen to ONE side of a phone conversation everywhere I went? Now I have to listen to BOTH sides? Ugh. And that godawful chirping noise makes me want to shove the cell phone up the owner’s ass every time I hear it.
Cell Phone Courtesy Month, like many of the holidays and months we recognize, is odd to me. I mean, every single month should be Cell Phone Courtesy Month. And so many people are rude bastards when it comes to their cells that they need to have this shit drilled into their minds every single day, not just 30 of the 365 days each year.
Nevertheless, I thought I’d go over some of the things that I feel are incredibly shitty behavior when it comes to the use of cell phones. Because, as we all know, what I say goes.
WALKIE TALKIE PHONES
Let’s start with this one because I absolutely HATE this technology. I loved using walkie-talkies as a kid. It was cool to chat with your friends down the street on a walkie-talkie. That was way before cell phones. Hell, it was way before cordless phones.
But something happened to me along the way. I grew the fuck up. No matter how old you are, if you’re reading this, you are TOO OLD to be using a walkie-talkie phone. I know damn well that you can make that shit private. Do it. Now.
Unless you’re a damn telephone pole worker or on a SWAT team, there is no place in the world for your chirping walkie-talkie shit. Set your options so that nobody but you can hear the voice on the other end.
CALL WAITING
When you’re on the phone with me, *I* am the priority. Do NOT tell me, “Oh, I have another call. Hang on…” and then just zip off to leave me on hold while you answer the phone call of the person who didn’t call you FIRST. You have voicemail, let the other call go, asshat. You can talk to that person when we’re done.
HOLD
Speaking of “hold,” don’t put me on it. It’s rude. Unless you’re a neurosurgeon and you’re expecting a phone call from another neurosurgeon and you tell me at the beginning of our conversation, “Just so you know, I’m waiting for a call from a neurosurgeon, so if she calls I’ll have to let you go.” Then it’s mildly acceptable. Unless you’re having a sexual fling with aforementioned neurosurgeon, in which case you can bloody well wait until you get home so you can have video sex chat on your own time, just like normal people.
And if you absolutely MUST put me on hold, don’t make me wait more than 30 seconds. Flip over to the other call, say “I’ll call you back when I’m done talking to Karl, who is infinitely more important than you,” and get right back to me. If you make me wait more than 30 seconds, I’ll hang up. I’m not joking. I will. I’ve done it many times and I’ll do it again. You can call me back when it’s more “convenient” because I sure as hell ain’t waiting for you to get your shit together.
PUBLIC CONVERSATIONS
Pretend for a moment that you’re not the only person on the damn planet and that the people around you can actually HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING on those personal and private calls you insist on having in Wal-mart or the library or the grocery store check-out line or (for the love of God) in the fucking bathroom. Now, with that in mind, STOP TALKING.
Nobody wants to hear that you’re cramping or that you have a nasty case of crabs or that you’re getting all smoochy smoochy with your boyfriend. When you’re talking on the phone in public, take it aside to a more private place such as outside. Or your house.
Never EVER take your phone into church. Your cell phone’s “silent mode” is your friend. Use it. If your phone rings in church or the movies or the library, know that it’s perfectly acceptable for me to behead you for such a moronic offense.
BATHROOM TALK
Never. EVER. No exceptions.
When I hear a guy on a phone in a public bathroom I want to scream the sound of a thousand deaths. Even if you happen to be one of around 33% of guys who washes your hands after peeing or crapping, you certainly don’t wash YOUR PHONE.
Think about it next time you borrow someone’s cell phone. You really don’t know all the dirty places it’s been.
ON A DATE
If you’re lucky enough to go on a date with me, never EVER answer your phone while we’re on our date. Period. Again, that’s what voicemail is for.
Never EVER text to your BFF that you’re amazed at how much hotter I am in person. Never EVER LOOK at your cell phone unless we happen to break down on the side of the road in my awesome Mitsubishi Galant. Because, really, I have no freaking idea what to do with my car, other than put gas in it on occasion.
Seriously, ignore your phone on dates. It’s totally rude not to. The person you’re with should be the sole receiver of your attention for however long the date lasts.
The fact that I have to say that is just amazing to me. But I’ve had more than one date say “Just a moment” a dozen times only so they can text someone. Fuck that.
TEXTING
Right, texting. In general, you just shouldn’t do it unless you’re by yourself. It’s rude to those hanging with you. There are exceptions, of course. BrittCon, for example, where we were trying to coordinate meetings with half of New York City. But if you’re at dinner with friends, again, LEAVE THE FUCKING PHONE ALONE.
RING TONES
Don’t do it. Really. Don’t. They’re wrong. It’s bad enough that I have to hear phones chirping and ringing every other nanosecond I’m out of my house. But to hear the fucking Macarena or The Sopranos theme song or any other song that you somehow think is “cute and witty” makes me want to give you a Colombian necktie.
Yes, even the personalized ringtones that you’ve selected to play whenever *I* call you. Wrong.
Besides, if you’re stupid enough to pay $3 for a 20-second clip of music, I probably don’t want to talk to you, anyway.
DIALING WHILE DRIVING
Again, scary this needs mentioning, but don’t do it. Unless you have voice dialing or some other mode of hands-free communication, pay attention to the road, please. And you should NEVER text while driving, you moron.
HEADSETS
Are only for use when you are making or receiving a call. Dave is right on this, for sure. Wearing a bluetooth headset all day long in case you receive a call is absolutely retarded. Really, I won’t talk to you if you’re wearing one of those things. How do I know you’re not talking to someone else? Plus, it’s just embarrassing to be seen with you.
STOP SCREAMING
Would you please talk at a normal speaking volume when you call me? Stop the screaming. Unless I’m in an airport gate with 10 delayed flights worth of people in 3rd world conditions and can’t hear a damn thing, you’re not helping me by yelling. And if YOU’RE in a hard-to-hear environment, screaming at me is just as effective as talking loudly when you discover someone is blind.
COMMON SENSE
It all comes down to common sense, really. Courtesy and manners. Treat me like you would want to be treated. No, scratch that. Treat me like the god I am and we’ll get along fine.
Break these rules at your own risk. I’ll totally rip that fucking phone out of your hands and throw it in the toilet. And half of you would probably pick the damn thing out of the muck and keep on talking.
Filed under Rants, Web/Tech | Comments (41)
