A couple of days ago, I checked out The Poke Show’s ranking at . I was sittin’ at #410.

A few hours later I noticed a jump in traffic from that site and checked again. I was amazed to find out that I was now sittin’ circa ‘87 at #42. I didn’t know how, but I didn’t care — I was suddenly popular and sexy!

The next day it was revealed that there was a mix up in the software and a lot of crappy blogs suddenly jumped to the top of the heap. Mine was one of them. So I was sent back to the outcast table, where I was sittin’ fugly at #569.

Now, by some other strange twist of fate, The Poke Show is back up. I’m sittin’ smokin’ hot at #65.

I feel like I’m in Junior High again. Every little blemish could make or break me. If I get a boner in the middle of Geometry cause Linda Hassle is sitting next to me and I can kinda see her bra through her shirt, I might be made fun of or be made to take off my pants so the girls in the class can learn about the male anatomy. I don’t know what to do.

I feel like hanging around outside the 7 Eleven with a Big Gulp while telling some parachute pants wearin’ lame-o that I have the high score on like six Pac Man machines around town.

Poke

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