WordPress is the shit.
Why in God’s name did it take me six years to get over here?
Do you know that I can see all of your visits now without having to go to Google Analytics? Did you know that if you subscribe to my blog, I know exactly who you are? And by the way, WHY ARE YOU NOT SUBSCRIBING TO MY BLOG?
I know it seemed like an impulsive move (impulsive = fast not impulsive = silly) to switch (or migrate) my blog from Blogger to WordPress, but it was years in the making.
The final straw was this:
See the red font color? It isn’t supposed to be red. Well, the words Gladys Kravitz imitation are but the rest are not. So I went back into my post editor and after several tries, I couldn’t change it. I tried refreshing the page, editing my post in a different browser, standing on my head while holding the computer a little to the left. Nothing worked. The day that I was having these editing problems coincidentally I had also been fiddling with my Blogger template.
I like to keep things fresh, and occasionally I play around with my template.
Everyone should play around with their template once in a while.
It was as I was doing a tweak as simple as changing the font style that my blog went haywire. The widths were off, the page’s background had changed and lots of colorful words started coming out of my mouth that rhymed with won of a stitch and go truck yourself, Blogger.
WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED??
I felt like I had finally gotten my blog back to normal when someone commented on a post and it came into my inbox from Blogger. Not Disqus, who had been handling my comments for the past two years.
Please hang in there with me if you aren’t familiar with all of these boring blogging terms. Here, let me put it into context for you.
Think of Disqus as my assistant, Blanche.
But then one day, I notice Blanche isn’t responding to me when I press the button.
Instead, it is Constance (my original commenting system).
Constance has been absent for the past two years and only works when she isn’t on her period, hungry, fighting with her husband, eating, drinking when it’s daylight, dark out or when the weather has the word “partly” in it. She is a half-ass worker bee and needs to be fired. Stat.
So I call the temp agency where I hired Blanche, begging and pleading for them to bring Blanche back but she is on a baby-moon in Fiji with her lover, Ramon. She sends face times and snap chats and shares pictures of her escapades on Facebook every day. You can see Blanche, but you can’t have Blanche because apparently, she didn’t update her passport and can’t get back into this country. It was as I was trying to get the credentials for Blanche’s return that my supervisor Dot (Blogger) decided to show up and f#$% up everything.
You thought Constance was bad? Dot is an asshole.
It was on a day that Constance called in sick because her dog had the bird flu, and Blanche was sending me selfies of her and Ramon on the nude beach, that I finally told Dot to go eff herself.
I was quitting, And I was hiring a new assistant.
Enter Inga (WordPress).
You don’t mess with Inga. She is strong, confident, helpful and doesn’t put up with bullshit. She will make me money, she will get things done, she won’t make me have to fiddle with blogger crap like code and font colors. She will make me look good.
A week in and I am in love with Inga and I don’t miss Dot, Constance or even Blanche for that matter.
The moral of the story is this: you deserve to be happy at work.
Thank you to my friend Rosemary for introducing me to Inga.
I can never thank you enough.
Rosemary that is, not Inga.