I’m not an Internet whiz or anything, but I prefer to host my own blogs and maintain them myself as much as possible. For months and months, every time I log in to this blog to write or delete spam comments, I see “WordPress x.x.x is now available. Please update now.”
Every now and then, I click to update and look at the process…and immediately close out and begrudgingly decide I’ll deal with an outdated version instead of attempting to update manually (which is what you have to do if you host your own URL). The process includes creating a backup (which I should do anyway, but you know, I’m lazy and shit), and accessing the source files to upload new PHP file versions and all that jazz. It seemed complicated, so I ignored it.
Until yesterday. I’ve finally gotten back to working on more web projects and talking about code and all sorts of fun, nerdy stuff, so I was totally in the mood to make this update my bitch.
And I did. I now have the most recent WordPress version. You probably can’t tell (at least, I hope you can’t tell…please let me know if anything is wonky – you’ll totally be bursting my “I’m so smart” bubble, but that’s your guilt to deal with). But I’m pretty satisfied with my skills.
I also finally got my Google Analytics restarted on this site – it was set up through an account at my old job, which was then closed out, so I hadn’t gotten around to setting it up again. But now, another check. I’m excited to see the reports again, because I love seeing what search phrases bring people here. Highly entertaining stuff. Plus, I geek out over SEO stuff.
So take that, version 3.0. I’m sure 3.0.1 will be released tomorrow like a huge fuck you from WordPress, but until then, I shall wallow in the glow of the satisfaction the comes from my nerdy DIY blog skillz. I’m like the mother fucking unicorn of bloggers right now. Call me the Blogicorn. WordPress is my bitch. Say my name! Say it!
Spank you very much.
In case I didn’t mention…when I came home from the Twilight/New Moon/Eclipse triple feature/midnight showing…this was in my living room:
Yep, my amazing husband made this happen. His brother had to go to Arkansas for a work trip, so T asked him to stop by and pick up my bike. IT’S MY BIKE!!! I REALLY OWN HER!!!
Now, just to be clear, it’s VERY disorienting to walk into your home at 3:30 AM after sitting in a dark theater for close to seven hours and see this. I walked in, saw the bike, looked behind me like there would be someone punking me or something and thought, “Whaaaa…? This looks like the bike from Arkansas but it can’t be the bike from Arkansas because this is Missouri and T worked all day and antique bike fairies aren’t real…OR ARE THEY????”
Then I examined her more closely and decided she was definitely my Arkansas beauty and promptly went to the bedroom, woke up T and asked him how a bike from Arkansas wound up in our living room. He sleepily explained, I kissed him and immediately got on Facebook to share the news. I mean, it was 3:30 AM and I had to tell someone, but it would be rude to call anyone…so thank jeebus for social media!
For the record, I still think antique bike fairies are real. They just happen to be middle-aged men on business trips.
Not actually T's brother
Now I need to prepare for a conference call. Happy Friday, my pretty little fairies!