Hey, kids! It’s time once again for me to interview myself!
Y’know….(ahem) because no one else wanted to.
The last time I sat down with myself for an exclusive interview, things got cray-cray up in Darla’s hizzle when an enraged Maineiac toppled the kitchen table à la Desperate Housewife Teresa “The Feds Are Only Jealz of My Fame” Guidice.
Let’s see if this time around I crack a chair on my own forehead Jerry Springer-style.
Me: Good morning. Today we are going to discuss something that is on every WordPress blogger’s mind.
She’s a Maineiac: Butt implants?
Me: Yes. (tilting head) Have you considered those?
SaM: Well, of course I have. But I thought we were going to discuss the Freshly Pressed phenomena?
Me: Oh, I suppose. God. (rolling eyes) So, Freshly Pressed–I mean, seriously. What’s the deal? What gives?
SaM: It’s like winning the lottery. Except there’s no money involved.
Me: I don’t understand.
SaM: It’s like being struck by lightning. Except there’s no lightning involved.
Me: You’ve lost me.
SaM: It’s like winning a pretend medal in an imaginary world that only exists in your mind.
Me: Mmkay. Now I’m getting it.
SaM: It’s like finding out everyone in WordPress World thinks your parents are away for the weekend, so they drop by your crib to trash the joint. Maybe drink all your Pabst Blue Ribbon or paint their blog’s URL in ketchup on your bathroom ceiling before they peel out of your driveway in their jacked-up pickup while blaring Crazy Train out the windows and leaving empty Slim-Jim wrappers in their wake, never to return again.
Me: So you didn’t like this Freshly Pressed experience?
SaM: Oh no! I really enjoyed it! (sighing) Best days of my life!
Me: What’s it like? How did you find out you were first Freshly Pressed?
SaM: I woke up, took a long drag off my cigar, opened up my email and Boom — 150 pending emails from WordPress.
Me: You smoke?
Me: What did you do next?
SaM: I ran around in circles screaming, “What the frack? How in the hell do I delete all this email?” I honestly had no clue what had happened. I certainly didn’t realize Freshly Pressed was a ‘thing’ back then in 2010. I thought I was picked completely at random.
Me: You were picked at random.
SaM (glaring): Anyway. So I clicked on the front page of WordPress and saw my first FP post up there, right next to a post featuring brownies. I knew right then, I had made it. My husband certainly didn’t think so.
Me: How so?
SaM: When I told him, he just scratched himself, yawned and said, “Gee, that’s nice, honey. What’s for breakfast?”
Me; You threw scrambled eggs at him, didn’t you.
SaM: Well, I had to make sure I spent the next 24 hours glued to my laptop, approving comments like, “Great post!” and “Please visit my blog!” And they were fried eggs.
Me: Are there any drawbacks to being FP?
SaM: Oh sure! Like trying in vain to find that one single breathing non-blogging person on the planet that gives two shits you were Freshly Pressed.
Me: Anything else?
SaM: Nothing prepares you for the inevitable fall from the top, that death spiral of stats when FP fades in a few days. Once the party’s over, you’re left standing on your toilet-papered front lawn, clutching an empty punch bowl and crying, “Come back! Please!”
Me: Do they come back?
SaM: If you’re lucky a few stragglers are left behind who decide to stick around, mainly because they’ve passed out on your couch in their underwear. After three years of blogging, I can honestly say I much prefer the genuine relationship I have with my loyal readers and commenters over being briefly in the spotlight.
Me: Aw, c’mon! You sure there’s not a teeny-tiny part of you, somewhere back in your equally teeny-tiny mind that would love to be Freshly Pressed again?
SaM: Hell yeah! Of course! We all want it but we all act like we don’t want it — unless we get it. If we do get it, we’re happy — but only briefly. And it’s not cool to brag about getting it, so we act like we don’t care we got it, even though inside we’re thrilled. But only briefly.
SaM: And this Freshly Pressed high is fleeting because things tend to slide back down to normal pretty damn quickly.
Me: So it’s like getting butt implants?
And so concludes Part 2 of my Q&A with myself. No chairs or tables or butts were harmed during the interview.
Like this? See Part 1: My Exclusive Interview with Me About My Blog