Lately there have been an awful lot of clicks to my blog from searches for “Madame Weebles” and “madameweebles.” And today I found the search term “Who is Madame Weebles?”—complete with question mark.
I’m not sure what they expected from that last one. It’s not like Google can spit out a dossier on me. Or can they? Google’s getting a little creepy with the amount of information they have, so who knows.
Now I’m wondering if one of you blabbed to the authorities about my tissue killings (yeah, I’m looking at you, Summer Solstice Girl). Or maybe Interpol is still trying to find me after that incident in Prague—which was not my fault, by the way.
So I’ve purchased the mask shown above to disguise my identity. They’ll never find me now.
Madame Weebles,
Who are you, indeed? Do you fart gay rainbows? And why is it Le Clown is always first to comment? That’s because he is magnificent (I pay royalties to myself).
Le Clown
Oh, Le Clown. I’m afraid to use the “M” word because of the whole royalties thing. So on my blog, I will refer to you as “spectacular” instead. I hope this is acceptable to Your Clownness.
As for who I am, I’m a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in bacon. And if farting gay rainbows is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Madame Weebles,
Who ever you are, you made it to my blogroll. Expect great things… as of tomorrow.
Le Clown
Mere words cannot express my gratitude, Le Clown. (Admit it, it was my use of the word “spectacular” that did it, right?)
Madame Weebles,
You’ve been blogrolled. And I’m sorry to say that I did find a picture of you. Say bye bye to anonymous blogging, Joan.
http://clownonfire.wordpress.com/blogroll/
Le Clown
Curses… well, I knew it was only a matter of time before people found out. My resemblance to Joan Crawford is so eerie that people have thrown wire hangers at me.
That’s a bit unsettling. At least you can make a quick getaway, if need be, using your time machine. Phew!
Genius! I’ll just go back to 1840. Robert Cornelius will save me.
My thoughts exactly!
Hmmm….I am reading a felon’s blog?
Never convicted, Robin.
Thank God.
[in munchkin voice] I’ll use my magic dust to make you invisible and they’ll never never find you…
Oh thank you Sandee, thank you!! You’re the best munchkin EVER.
I did not turn you in, I promise! And I think the mask is your best defense! I would never recognize you with the mask! I think you’re safe! Thank God!
We could never do without our Weebles…
Love,
Cathy
You’re the best, Cathy. I knew *you* wouldn’t rat me out.
If I was less cyber-stupid I would know how to embed a link in this comment to share a photo I took on my way home from work on Friday of a Robert Cornelius book that an UWS sidewalk vendor was selling for ten clams (as we say in Flintstones-speak). It made me think of you M. Weebles. Possibly RC was trying to channel you through me to encourage your time traveling, but I was in a bit of a hurry and did not put much thought into any of this until now.
Was it the book with the maroon cover? If so, I have that one. I bet it was a sign from him.
The cover’s sepia. The book’s called “Eyes of the Nation”. Is that one in the M. Weebles library?
Oh that one! Yeah, I have that one too.
Now you tell me! I just emailed you the pic. Check your spam.
Your email made it safely to my Inbox! And yup, that’s the book!
Cool. For the Weeblemaniacs this is the book Madame and I are discussing:
Eyes of the Nation: A Visual History of the United States
A street vendor was selling it for 10 clams. It was in good condition. I now realize that was a very good price, but the paranoiac in me (actually that’s all of me) has stopped making street purchases due to fear of bedbugs.
Your post inspired me to check Google to see if I could find out anything about myself. But then at the last second I chickened out, worried about what I might find and so I searched for “Madame Weebles” instead since it seems to be the popular thing to do. It wasn’t me searching for you those other times though.
Did you find anything shocking or horrifying during your search? If so, it’s all lies.
Lies on the internet? Never. Don’t worry, I’m not a gossip. I won’t share what I learned. It was quiet interesting though. I never knew….
I love my coffee way to much!
All righty, I believe you, SSG. But I’ve got my eye on you…
Having a coffee right now to prove it!
I believe you!
It’s good to be stalked. Now, please change the towels in your bathroom. They look like they’ve been there for days!
I knew I should have done laundry earlier. Sorry. Did you eat my cookies? I had a box of cookies on the kitchen counter.
If your name is Joan… do you mind if I call you so?
Actually my name isn’t Joan — Le Clown is just referring to my astonishing resemblance to Joan Crawford.
All right I see… but how would he know?
One of the searches I’ve had is “gumball in butt hole”. Is someone trying to tell me something?
Good lord, I hope not…
Oh man, no one will ever know. I hope you wear it everywhere.
Right? I think it’s the perfect disguise. It’s subtle and makes it easy to blend into a crowd.
I may or may not have already told people about you and your ingenious hot dead guy postings!
Why thank you, Lovely. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? I could call you L&L but Lovely just sounds nicer.
Not a problem, and it does sound so nice!
no one ever googles “who is hot femme?” le sigh.
Want me to Google it right now? That would be cheating, I guess. But I can still do it.
Just call yourself Spartacus.
Works for me…
Acutally,I believe they are googling you looking for me.
Crafty bastards…
Those sly buggers. I’ll never give up your location, I promise.
You’re a popular girl! (I didn’t want to say you;re a popular Madame, because that doesn’t sound entirely nice)
The mask will certainly help, but google will probably drive by in one of their vans and take pictures of you, so you might want an alternative for on-street use.
Cheers!
That’s a good point. Google has spies everywhere, don’t they. I’ll just put on my Richard Nixon mask then.
Love the mask, MW — it’s SO you.
.
Why thank you, B!
I would guess this added hint-o-mystery will only add to the intrigue.
I suspect this was all part of your brilliant plan, though.
Actually it wasn’t. But it’s a happy by-product, I will admit that.