There’s something that’s been bothering me. And I think you know what it is.
That’s right. It’s the other Alice Bradley.
For years, Google searches for me have suffered at the hands of the other Alice Bradleys of the world.
There’s Depression-era cookbook author Alice Bradley. (I have a few of these books, so if you have a craving for Mock Veal in White Sauce or Anchovy and Catsup on Toast Points, I can help.)
Then there’s former slave Alice Bradley. (Do yourself a favor and look at that link. I’m not sure whether to be amused or horrified. Or both!)
Not to mention pseudonymous science fiction author Alice Bradley. And Alice Bradley, author of "The Governor's Lady," and some Alice Bradley who wrote books under the name Cousin Alice, and then a whole heap of dead Alice Bradleys.
Still, my ex-boyfriends could usually find me in the first few Google pages. Find me, and see all that they were missing.
But not anymore. And it’s all her fault.
I’m sure she’s a very nice person. She has pleasant hobbies, such as candle-making, and knitting. And lounging on floors of hotel conference rooms. She’s not afraid of a little dust, or off-gassing! She also enjoys striking suggestive poses near plants. And I’m glad for her!
Not to mention, she shows that models “can be hot and live a regular, quiet lifestyle.” And for years I had feared that my quiet lifestyle would destroy my looks. Thank you, Alice Bradley, for showing me how I wrong I was.
But lately she’s been cramping my style. Recently I’ve had to interview some wary subjects, many of whom Googled me and discovered that young men on the Internets are calling for “more hot pics of Alice!!” One subject actually emailed me and asked, “Is this you?”
Yes. For when I am not interviewing physicians, I am inevitably lying nude on a wood floor, rose petals tastefully shielding my nips. (Link NSFW, more or less.) Then I settle in for a quiet evening of candle-making. Nude candle-making.
There must be a term for this. Google-impaired? Google-hobbled? Someone! Come up with something!