OMGOMG, I Swear I'm Not a Pothead!!

So I just googled “Purple Cheese” for the first time yesterday (mostly to stroke my own ego), thinking “maybe my blog will show up! And I’ll be so proud of my blogginess, and happy that I can share silliness with the world, yay sunshine daisies!” Unfortunately, not only did I not see my blog right away, I saw a lot of worrisome possibilities with which people miiiiiiight just think my blog is associated. So of course I want to get a head start and set things straight.

I think I should start off by explaining the inspiration behind the name of my blog. When I was very young, my two older brothers and I (this was before more siblings from my father’s previous marriages came into my life—I’m really the youngest of seven) used to LOVE going over to our neighbors’ house across the street. There was no one our age who lived there, but rather older kids who would often babysit us. No, better. High school kids who used to babysit us! At this point, I must have been about five at the oldest. We loved going over there to play Legos and soccer, and to learn how to pet cats. Once, Older Brother ended up married to a girl who used to play there too. The ceremony was performed by the youngest of the high school neighbors. She then turned to Younger Older Brother and said he had to marry someone too. He chose the bin of Legos. It was a beautiful ceremony. (I was the flower girl.)

At the same time as all of this, my obsession with dairy products started to show its beautiful face. Whenever we went to Sarah’s house, I always wanted some of their delicious cheddar cheese. I’m pretty sure it was the same exact stuff we had, but for some reason it seemed to taste better than our cheese which stood in a refrigerator a mere two hundred feet away—it was magical. Perhaps it was because Sarah always corrected me when I asked for “orange cheese.”

Then she would go on to explain that when we went over to her house, everything that was orange became purple, and vice versa. The same was true of red and green, blue and yellow, black and white. The more nuanced colors took discussion and negotiation, but the basic principles always remained. And the purple cheese was my favorite part.

Those days of going over to the neighbors’ house have long past now. For a while I completely forgot about purple cheese. Every once in a while a trip to the grocery store dairy section would remind me of the fun days of my youth. But it wasn’t until I started living with Sister, Brother-in-Law, and Nephews (and now Niece!) that purple cheese once again became a part of my daily life. Only this time, I’m the crazy aunt convincing the little ones that the sky is really yellow, that broccoli is red, and that the whole world is really a wacky place.

So snap back to the present, and I’m googling the words “purple” and “cheese.”

What do I find?

BAM.

It’s also a variation of cannabis. As in weed. As in marijuana. I also found a picture of purple-tinted cheese, but that was minor compared to the sheer amount of information on marijuana that bombarded my browser.

Holy crap!! So this means that anyone who knows about this probably thinks I’m a pothead!! And I definitely just told my dad to google “Purple Cheese” to find my blog if he had a hard time remembering purplecheese1.blogspot.com!! I know HE knows I’m not a pothead, but still, the association is awkward, and he might feel awkward about it, and then maybe start to wonder… I can’t have this!! So I started panicking. Because I can assure you, I’m pretty much as legal as you can get. I may drink five times the normal amount of coffee, but caffeine and alcohol really are my only two drugs of choice.

Well, crap, now people that do smoke might feel alienated from my blog. Damnit! I’m sorry hypothetical pothead readers, you’re still more than welcome to read my blog. I’m not judging you for smoking, because that’s not up to me to do. I’m just asserting that I don’t. In fact, potheads, you might even be my best readers! Because I’m not denying the possibility that my blog might be way funnier if read while under the influence.

Oh God, now people might think I’m advocating the use of illegal drugs for purposes of humor. For anyone reading this, I’m definitely NOT advocating illegal drug use for any purpose (though still not judging you, potheads, especially since you tend to be very nice, especially when under the influence!).

Ahhh, seeeeee?? Do you see what distress this has caused me?? Whyyy did that strain of cannabis have to be called Purple Cheese?? I may have just started my blog recently, but I swear that Purple Cheese (the idea, not the drug!) has been very much a part of my life since my early youth. And now you’ve tainted it, marijuana namers! You’ve tainted my whole childhood! At the beginning of this post I was just worried, but now I’m straight-up angry! It’s like you took my childhood and stabbed it in the eye, permanently maiming it. And it’s too late to change the name of my blog now, it’s totally stuck! Not to mention, it was perfect before I googled the words. Damn pride. I wanted to see how “awesome” I was, and all I got was a maimed childhood. Well, that’s irony for you, I suppose.

But that’s ok. Because hopefully after I’ve posted enough on my blog there will eventually be a new (or really, as in my case, old) association with Purple Cheese—silliness, wacky humor, and an ability to look at the world through childlike eyes. Because in my opinion, the world could use a little more craziness. Otherwise we might all just go insane.

Oh, and thank you for reading.

P.S. Look! I decided to add an extra drawing for you that has absolutely nothing to do with what I wrote. It’s like getting free dessert!! You know, the kind that you don’t have to pay for, and then you later find out has barely any calories? Surprise Millennium Falcons are like that. You’re welcome!