The unsettling mystery of Google search terms

From etsy.

Like most small-time bloggers, I spend a great deal of time poring over the page where you can see how many hits you get and where they come from. It's a good place to become very humble, very quickly, especially once you tell Blogger to stop counting your own clicks. Ouch. It can also be a little alarming and confusing.

On this magical page, I can see what people searched for to find my blog on Google. Most of the time, it makes sense and I get why the person went on to visit me (yay!). Sometimes, though, I'm mystified because it doesn't make much sense in relation to what they searched for, but, whatever. If something caught their eye, hurray. I'm just happy for the readership.

These are my favorites, most of which make me a little worried about what kind of statement I'm making about myself on the Internet-Which-Never-Forgets:

Losing bladder control in public (Has not happened to me, yet. Watch this space for updates.)

I'm content with losing (Well, only a little, but I hope I helped whoever else wanted to feel content with losing.)

No one noticed I left, Why I left Facebook (Facebook causes a lot of angst for such an ugly site, as this search term has come up over 135 times since I wrote that post.)

Drawn morbid pictures (I'm guessing they landed here)

Cheetah Zubaz (apparently someone does know what these are)

Alice Cooper sex dream (it was NOT a sex dream, just for the record)

Sarah Hunt panties porn (my god, let's hope they left disappointed)

cincysarah@blogspot.some (3 times) (no doubt this is the result of me typing in my url wrong somewhere, as I am wont to do) (I have no idea why I can't get a bigger audience)

Veggie tales Jesus (I can only imagine the disappointment when they realized there were no talking tomatoes and a severe shortage of messiahs here)

My kid is better than your kid (This makes me wonder if they were looking for others who firmly believe they are raising a small Ghandi or Albert Einstein, or trying to find a mother who actually thinks that way, to yell at. I don't go in for that jazz.)

Erma Bombeck, Erma Bombeck Workshop (Yes, I miss it, too. Please talk to me about it at great length so that we may never fully return to real life.)