Bathing, Flossing, and Googling Myself:Three things I try to do everyday

OK, I admit it: I’m lame. Probably egotistical too. Because every couple of weeks (fine, hours) I Google myself. The first time I did it, I was surprised (and disheartened) to discover that, despite my experience as the only person named James Yeh in South Carolina — hell, I’d never ran into any Yehs in South Carolina other than the ones in my immediate family — I didn’t show up anywhere on the first page of results. In the grand scheme of things, I was pretty insignificant. I think I was #15 or so, maybe even lower.

Anyways, because of that it’s sort of become a goal of mine to climb to the top of the mysterious Google search engine ladder. Most recently I saw that I occupied three of the top ten spots (#6, #7, #10) — pretty exciting stuff, I know. But this victory was short-lived, as its timing coincided with a very random blog comment I received from another James Yeh — the one who owns the email account jamesyeh@gmail.com, which is a very sought-after address. (Well very sought-after by me, at least.) In this comment my doppleganger wrote, “We have a pretty common name”, going further to say, “I went to high school with 2 other James Yeh’s. Three of us in a school of 1400.”

This, of course, was heartbreaking to me. Despite the Google reports I had previously believed I was the only one — at least the only one who actually used the internet — all those James Yeh’s above me were 200 year-old professors of Engineering or Physics or something. I was wrong, and it shook me to the very core. The rest of the month was spent formulating a plan on how to become number one. Briefly I considered homocide, systematically killing all the other James Yehs Jet Li style, but I am not a killer. I’m barely even a man. A random guy I was talking to in a bar in New York cracked his knuckles and opened and closed his fists and I pleaded, “You’re not going to punch me in the face, are you?” This I found funny. Homocide ruled out, I considered suicide — deaths always make people famous. But then I thought about it and realized that you first have to be famous to get more famous. It’s one of those “We’re looking to hire someone with experience”/”But I need a job to get experience” kind of dilemmas, somewhat archaically referred to as a “Catch-22″. Plus, I really hate guns, heights, and the sight of blood, particularly my own. As I said before, I’m a real manly man.

But a new day is dawning. Go ahead, Google me. See what you find.

Yes, that’s right, kind readers. I might not be the only one, but I’m the most important. At least according to Google. And they’re always right.

This calls for a celebration. I should go hunting or logging or something like that, but instead I’m just going to hop online and type up a blog entry.