Kissing "The Man’s" Ads – Should I Get Down on My Knees?

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When first I began The Delicious Life, oh, about 530 posts ago, my only intention was to maintain the blog as an outlet for my rather long, overly drawn-out ramblings of cooking (a little) and eating (a lot). I could take a few (ha!) pictures, write at length to save my friends and family the drudgery and boredom of listening to me squeal and shriek and go on and on and on and on about food, and at the end of the day, gaze egotistically upon the wondrous nothingness of my obsession with Indian food, anything that brings me to tears when I eat it, Tony Bourdain, and a disappearing waistline.

Over the course of blogging, it became almost therapeutic – a way to funnel obsessive/compulsive list-making tendencies, ADD-driven dining out, and my childhood-scarred-by-Spam-and-Dinty-Moore into something that is far less destructive than hitting myself repeatedly with a bottle of Absolut Citron. Of course, I do that anyway.

So blogging was a side thing because at the time that I started, I was working for “The Man.” A few times a week, I settled into the comfort of a plushy cushy chair, took a deep breath, and like we do when we spend that hour in the therapist’s office, I just let it all flow out through the keyboard. It wasn’t really on the side, since I spent inordinate amounts of time doing it (but never at work! never!), but I still considered it a “hobby.”

Then that mysterious thing called “Life” hurled not one, not a dozen, but an entire Ford F-150 rear-cab-full of lemons at me. I was jobless, and blogging gradually went from being a “side” hobby to a full-time, weekends-included, non-paying, no-benefits, 401Special(k), you-pay-for-your-vacations occupation. I didn’t sweat it much because the EDD was sending me a bi-weekly *ahem* allowance. I thought that by the time I had to grow up, a lovely grown-up dream job would be begging me to do it. Please, Sarah, we want to pay you a million dollars a month to eat your way around the world!

“By the time” was a few months ago. The government threw back its thorny head, cackled it evil ugly laugh, and ripped from my unemployed hands the tiny tendril of cash onto which I was clinging. That gorgeous glamorous job of skipping around the globe in my peep-toe wedges and city shorts, dancing, drinking and dining hasn’t quite materialized, and well…*sigh*

I have to admit that way back when, I thought about running advertisements on The Delicious Life. I thought about it for about 14 seconds, and then *pshaw!* threw the idea into the trash compactor with the chalky, moldy rind of Brie. I didn’t want to “taint” my site with gaudy, “click me!” flashing animation ads. I thought they would take away from the “experience” of The Delicious Life, though I don’t even know what that “experience” is. I just didn’t want to do it. Nope, not gonna do it.

But now. Now I wonder. Should I? I have thought about it a lot in recent weeks. Should I do it? I sliced my pride and prejudices into a million little pieces, brined it, pickled it, vacuum-sealed it, and shoved it all the way back behind the kimchee in my fridge. Should I run ads on The Delicious Life? I went back to the trash compactor, and dug out the idea of running ads on The Delicious Life.

Should I get down on my knees and kiss The Man’s advertising ass?

I know that ad revenue is not huge. A few clicks here and there and maybe I could pay for stamps…to pay my bills! Heck, I could run ads and I could make a whopping…zero dollars! But then I think that perhaps something is better than nothing. But then I think, “Who are you Sarah? Why do you think anyone would even be here reading, let alone clicking on ads?!?!” I don’t know. Scary. It’s troubling me. Yes, ’tis troubling me quite a bit.

Should I? *sigh*

** a year ago today, we wasted away in maragaritaville at lula **

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