King of the Fancy Boys

We all know of my love/hate relationship with Google. Who among us hasn't taken into their hearts my entries about getting the #1 ranking on Google for goulash and subsequently losing it? Who among us hasn't printed the aforementioned entries out and then locked themselves in a bathroom stall at work with my words so theycan really see what I'm saying? And who among us, after several hours of analysis, start to see something there, and all of a sudden they don't know if they're laughing or crying, but they don't even stop to think about it because THEY'RE ALIVE FOR ONCE? I mean, I'm pretty sure it's not just me that does it.

I've come to terms with the fact that I'll probably never again be #1 with regards to goulash; there are forces out there that are too powerful for even Cody Powell to conquer. Forces so strong that, if I were to mention their names, you could expect to find my head on a pike in Budapest the next morning. And trust me, the pike wouldn't be in a nice part of town; I'm guessing it'd reside at either a brothel or one of those places where they artificially inseminate livestock. Perhaps you can tell that these are not the kind of people I'm inviting over to my place for a game of bawdy Jenga. No, the only board game I'm playing with these rapscallions is "Give Me My Damn Google Ranking Back". However, since I'm clearly not dealing with lightweights, I'm trying to keep that information as quiet as possible. If these people can get to Google, they can surely get to my apartment complex, the cable company, and the people at Taco Cabana, which would effectively undermine my entire support infrastructure. No, it's better to keep my objective a secret, so I can sneakaroo up on them and get my spot back for one glorious day before they deal with me a starkly terrifying Eastern European manner.

Instead of publicly lobbying for the #1 spot for Goulash then, I've decided to pick a slightly easier search term. No longer will I jockey for favor with recipe sites and Hungarian cuisine pages. Instead, I've decided to take over the #1 result for a slightly less contested term: fancy boy. According to what I see, I'm #7 right now and I haven't even really been trying to get to the top. I figure if I crank the fancification up a notch or two, it'll be a matter of weeks until I'm regarded as the Internet's premier fancy boy. My beloved MHS Latin t-shirts will temporarily be replaced by sailor suits. My undying love for pork and beans will be replaced with a newfound appreciation for pomengranate chutney. Most startingly, I will now drink my King Cobra malt liquor with my pinkie sticking out. People of the Internet, I beg you to support me in my quest for search engine immortality. If you fail to do so, I will have absolutely no mercy when my reign as king of the fancy boys begin, and I will see to it that my henchmen dress you in only the cheapest of velveteen.