Tag Archives: statistics

Lame Adventure 290: Visiting the World Virtually

WordPress is this site’s host since its launch in January 2010.  They’re constantly tweaking it, adding more bells and whistles. I adapt to their changes that have all been fine with me thus far.  This month, March (for anyone drawing a blank about what month this is), they’ve added a new statistics feature displaying a summarization of the top views by country.  Pictured below is the Lame Adventures map showing my puny stats for the first eleven days of March.

I suck in China but possibly whoever reads me there is now in a labor camp.

I am most popular in the US (population 313.1 million) with 2,387 visits but not as loved in China (population 1.3 billion) with two visits.  Obviously, I have my work cut out for me with my Chinese audience, but I am doing much better in Hong Kong with fifteen visits.  Some years ago I had a work-related email pal in China, a very personable young woman named Yinni who was obsessed with the TV series Sex and the City; she insisted I was the Samantha character come to life.  I did not have the heart to admit to her that I’m queer as (adjusting for inflation) a nine-dollar bill and my taste in attire leans heavily in the direction of Larry David.  She advised me that if I ever got around to visiting China, I should skip the mainland and head straight to Hong Kong.  Looking back, I think she was more onto me than I realized at that time.

I am not going to delude myself into thinking that more than a fraction of my visitors read much, if anything of what I’ve written.  I imagine the pictures are the draw, such as this semi-mangled water bug I encountered while re-entering my building after taking out the trash.

Bug porn.

As I was perusing the extensive world traveling Lame Adventures has done while I primarily remain parked in either my postage stamp-sized dwelling or cluttered desk at work, my buddy and colleague, Coco, called.  Earlier in the day, I had checked my 401k and noticed that suddenly my name was misspelled.  I emailed Coco and half-jokingly told her to check the spelling of her name on our plan.  She called to say that her name was suddenly misspelled, too.  We did not know what to make of this odd coincidence but we now know that we both have to deal with our difficult general manager, our plan’s administrator, to make the adjustment.  We commiserated further.

Me:  If I hadn’t already made my sandwich for tomorrow, I’d take the day off.

Coco:  I wish I could leave the country, just light a fire behind myself and run.

That prompted me to tell my pal about all the places Lame Adventures has visited. Coco was impressed as I rattled off country after country.

Top 31 visitors to Lame Adventures-land.

Coco:  That’s so cool!

Middle 31 visitors to Lame Adventures-land.

Me:  But I’m almost 371 in dog years and I have yet to go anywhere outside of the continental US whereas my blog will probably be read on the moon if they ever build a space station there!

Coco:  I still think that’s cool.

Actually, I do, too.  I will also ask Coco to pretend that she’s me should I  hear from Yinni again if she ever makes good on her goal to visit the US, something she had longed to do.  That will surely up my stats in the most populous country in the world.

Lower 28 visitors to Lame Adventures-land, probably all eager to scram and not return.

Lame Adventure 155: Insult to Misery

Since the Eastern seaboard has been pummeled with a fifth snowstorm in the first month of winter, with more surely to follow, the time has come for the silly statistic, a claim that is blathered solely to blow the average Joe or Joe-ette’s mind.  For example, last June, on Day 63 of the Gulf Oil Spill, CBS News reported that the spill would fill 9,200 living rooms.  Naturally I felt immense relief knowing that my home would be spared since it’s a living room-less studio apartment.  How that calculation was determined would be another report in itself.  I hope that either the Onion or Saturday Night Live tackles that story soon.

Today’s silly stat comes courtesy of ABC News blandly handsome correspondent Jeremy Hubbard who reported on Thursday evening that so much snow has fallen over New York City in the past month; it’s enough to fill 1000 Empire State buildings.

The son of Mother Hubbard with his producer standing in the background, who's either the smallest man working in network news, or a tool to illustrate a point that this mountain of plowed snow could fill Neptune.

Real deal silly stat.

Aside from wondering why anyone would want to know that the Empire State Building could pack the past month of snow one thousand times, all anyone who lives in the Big Apple needs to do is walk out the door and look around.  There are miles of snow everywhere.  Who needs to know how many skyscrapers, golf courses, or used car lots it can fill?

The look of ugh.

Where'd the sidewalk go?

Suck morning.

Lambs to slaughter entering West 72nd Street subway station.

With my naked eye, as far as I can see, I see snow everywhere I look.  I get it.  There’s a gargantuan amount of snow out there.  If I hit my head on a low hanging air conditioner, knocked myself out, and fell face forward into a snow bank in the middle of the night, I’d probably wake up dead, possibly with a Friedrich logo partially tattooed across my forehead.

There’s so much snow, some of it was even in my apartment when I left my window a tad too open during the fourth storm two weeks ago.  It was not enough to fill the entirety of my modest digs, but it was annoying and rather snarky.

Suggestion from Cyclops the windowsill snow woman, "Next storm, lower your window, stupido."

Furthermore, I do not need to know how the size of the small toxic lake currently floating in front of the West 72nd Street subway turnstiles compares to 987 sixteen ounce Starbucks Grande soy lattes.  I just know from entering and exiting that turnstile that it’s another snowstorm-related butt-pain I, and thousands of other rush hour commuters like me, would prefer to live without.

Heading to Hell.

Lake Pea Soup

One silly stat that anyone has yet to measure is the steam generated by grousing New Yorkers riding public transit.  My guess is that the hot vapor we emitted en masse as we exited that uptown express 2 train when it went out of service at 14th Street Thursday night was enough to launch a rocket into the next galaxy.   In addition, we could have collectively fueled the rocket’s return to earth in time for a monsoon-like spring.  Maybe it would behoove me to price wet suits now.