Category Archives: Insanity

It’s like my own personal episode of COPS every night.

A newspaper-thing that’s always intrigued me, ever since I was younger, is the cop briefs.

Don’t even deny they intrigue you as well. If you haven’t read them for entertainment value, you’ve read them to see if anyone you know was arrested. They’re vicarious sordidness, aren’t they?

Cop brieffffffs! (Don't Google "cop briefs" unless you want to see a lot of men's underpants, my friends.)

Cop brieffffffs! (Don’t Google “cop briefs” unless you want to see a lot of men’s underpants, my friends.)

Oh, in case you don’t have these where you are (doesn’t everyone have these? I’d assume yes, but you know what they say about assuming…) cop briefs are those quick little blurbs in the paper that say something like “John Doe, 46, of Somewheresville, was arrested by state police on Saturday at 1:02 a.m. He was charged with lewd lewdness, crazy loudness, and public urination.” Things like that.

One of my (many) jobs at the paper is to put certain things online immediately, as soon as they’re proofread. Major stories, some wire stories that we think people will be interested in, and the cop briefs. Cop briefs are *very* popular around here. (I don’t know if it’s just around here. I think they’re probably popular everywhere. People are alike all over. Somewhat nosy.)

I almost immediately realized that the cop briefs were both the funniest and saddest things I would be reading at the paper.

Things that seem surprisingly popular around here, so much so that they’re probably 75% or more of our cop briefs:

  • heroin-related crimes (heroin is HUGE around here. Apparently locals really enjoy riding the horse. Who knew?)
  • Meth-related crimes (cookin’ the meth, yo, cookin’ the meth)
  • drunk driving
  • domestic violence
  • child molestation (yes, I know…shudder)
  • petit larceny
  • check forgery

SIDE NOTE: There is a 50/50 split at work of people who say “petit” (just like it looks – “pet it”, like you would do to a cat, specifically, Dumbcat, who ALWAYS wants petting) larceny and who say “petty” larceny. I’m in the latter camp – too many years of French classes drilled the latter pronunciation into my head. But the “pet it” people are as adamant about their choice as the “petty” people are. I find this fascinating.

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: We have a road here named “Gotham Street.” How would you say that? I’d assume, based on the world’s consumption of Batman-related things, you’d say “Gaw-thumb”, right? Nope. Here, it’s “Goe-thumb.” This makes me laugh. Like, a lot.



So. Most of the cop briefs are for the things above. It’s gotten so second-hand that I’m all “ho-hum, another trailer exploded because they were cooking meth in it.” The domestic violence and child molestation ones bother me, I’m not going to lie. I don’t know if I’ll ever get inured to those. I think if the day comes that I am, I’m done. Roll me up and throw me in the sea.

My favorites, however, are the petit larceny ones. Specifically, the FUNNY petit larceny ones. Yes, yes. I know. Stealing’s not all that funny. But when you’re hanging your hat on dark humor, you take it where you can get it, you know?

There was…

  • the man who bought a bunch of crap at Walmart with counterfeit $100s, got caught, got arrested, got an appearance ticket, then THREE DAYS LATER got caught AGAIN for trying to buy MORE THINGS with a counterfeit $100. (Vitamins. He was trying to buy vitamins at the drug store.) This time, the cops were all “yeah…think we’ll keep you” and he had $50,000 bail, or something. We were all, “Hee! You know he’s saying ‘oh! $50k? I HAVE THAT! Do you take $100s?'”

    Ben Franklin disapproves of your shenanigans.

    Ben Franklin disapproves of your shenanigans.

  • the woman who decided she HAD TO HAVE the Keurig from her hotel room, so she put it in her bag and was all “gonna gooooo now” but got caught (not sure how…but based on future info, I’m guessing it was just poking on out of her bag, she doesn’t seem the brightest) and when the cops showed up she had a PLETHORA of wee bags of meth on her. Now, my thought: if you’re packing, like, MULTIPLE bags of meth? Probably don’t also steal the Keurig from your hotel room. You can buy one from your meth money later, and you want to keep a low profile, you know? You don’t need that Keurig right now. No. You don’t. Put it down. PUT IT DOWNNNN.

    "If it's in the hotel room, it's mine, right? I'm just going to take this, then. Thanks. DO NOT CHECK MY POCKETS FOR CRACK COCAINE."

    “If it’s in the hotel room, it’s mine, right? I’m just going to take this, then. Thanks. DO NOT CHECK MY POCKETS FOR METH.”

  • the guy who got arrested at his home for stealing something but then resisted arrest, and then his mother got arrested for trying to stop the cops from arresting him, and then SHE resisted arrest as WELL, and then his BROTHER tried to stop the cops from arresting his MOM and then resisted his OWN arrest. So, we’re three for three, then. Good show, folks.
  • the woman that got arrested for stealing a Dr. Pepper and some Cracker Jack from the convenience store. That one just made me sad. It was less than $4 of stuff. I kind of wanted to find her and give her $5 and tell her to keep the change.
  • The woman that just walked right out of the grocery store with something called a “mega meat savings pack.” This one was kind of the best, because the reporter who was on cops that night was on the phone with the police station, and we overheard him say, “I’d like a little more detail about this petit larceny of the ‘mega meat savings pack?'” And Coworker R. and I (BTW, I’m quite convinced Coworker R. and I are siblings separated at birth) at the exact same time said “Mega meat savings pack?” and got the giggles. And then the poor reporter was trying to hold it together while he was talking to the cops, but it was like on “Saturday Night Live” when everyone gets the giggles and no one can behave. Church-giggles, is what it was. And when he got off the phone, he was all “YOU GUYS” and I was all “MEGA MEAT SAVINGS PACK!” and even now I can’t say that without laughing like a looney.

    MEGA meat! We seriously discussed for like 20 minutes how she hid this to get it out of the store. Like, in her bra, or what?

    MEGA meat! We seriously discussed for like 20 minutes how she hid this to get it out of the store. Like, in her bra, or what?

  • The couple that got arrested for stealing a shopping cart filled with camping supplies from Walmart (Walmart gets stolen from, on average, 47 bajillion times a week…ok, I’m exaggerating, it’s like 47 KABILLION times a week) and then after listing all the things that were stolen, like “Sterno, a tent, tent poles, marshmallows, an inflatable mattress” it also listed “sexual lubricant.” Heh. Well, I guess the point of couples camping is that it’s (turn your eyes away, kiddos) fucking in tents. Or maybe they had some other campy use for that lubricant; I don’t really do outdoorsy well, so I couldn’t begin to tell you. Like, maybe it keeps away bears, you don’t know.



Probably the best, though, which was NOT petit larceny related, was the chick who foiled a kidnapper.

YES! A man called the cops, and said “someone tried to kidnap my ladyfriend in front of the convenience store!” so the cops were all on red alert and ran over and took statements and there was a lookout for a black SUV with a couple of nefarious white guys in it, and the woman was all “I left the store, they tried to pull me into their SUV, I fought ’em off with my sweet ninja moves” (I might be making that part up a little, but it was something to that effect.)

Everyone on our Facebook page, when we posted the story, FREAKED OUT. “Why are the cops hiding something from us?” “It’s like they WANT us to be kidnapped!” “FIND THESE EVILDOERS!” “CASTRATE THEM WITH RUSTY GARDEN SHEARS!” (Again, I might be making that part up a little.)

There was no news for a day or two…then the truth came out.

So, the chick had a job interview across the street from the convenience store. She and her boyfriend showed up early. Because she had time to kill, she proceeded to get very drunk (…yeah, I don’t know, either) and then she somehow lost her boyfriend in the convenience store. Convinced he’d left without her, she went in the parking lot, angry at him. When he came out looking for her, she was all, “YOU ABANDONED ME. And…um…because you did that, SOMEONE TRIED TO KIDNAP ME. I hope you’re HAPPY, Frank.” (His name wasn’t Frank. Like I remember his name. Please.)

So the boyfriend, who wasn’t (I’m assuming) drunk, was all, “babe, I was just inside this convenience store, how did you lose me? And more importantly, WE GOTTA CALL THE COPS ABOUT THIS KIDNAPPING.” And, mired in her web of drunken lies, she said, “Um. Yeeees? Yes, sure we sure do. Those dirty kidnappers who totally tried to kidnap me just now heh heh I’m not even lying at all even a little bit.”

The cops then broke her down after intense questioning (I’m guessing “intense” was just they looked at her seriously and she was all “OMG I AM SO SORRY” and started crying, she’s not really the criminal mastermind type, is she?) and she was charged with wasting police resources and reporting a false claim and inciting a riot. I made up that last one because it sounded cool. And, I have to assume, she did not get the job, probably. Unless the job was “professional drunken parking-lot kidnap liar,” in which case, she NAILED the interview (and I’m guessing there wasn’t much competition.)

As you can expect if you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, I totally crack up over these kinds of stories. And I tell ALL my coworkers about them. “DEAR COWORKERS!” I say, and proceed to tell them the latest transgression in a VERY dramatic reading, which I like to think is appreciated by all. (Or, if it’s not, they’re too polite to tell me to shush it.)

What have we learned?

If you do something stupid, your name’s going to be in the paper. THAT IS SO EMBARRASSING!

(Also, just an FYI, we have computerized archives going back to the 80s. So don’t be thinking I won’t look you up and see if you were ever in the cop briefs. I SO WILL. This is like the next step in Googling one’s date. Newspaper-archive-searching one’s date. I am not going out with someone and then finding out after I’m head-over-heels he deals meth out of his nasty meth-trailer. I also, by the way, researched my apartment to see if it was a murder house. What, like you wouldn’t. It was never a murder house. But it WAS a drug house in the 90s. So if I find any little packets crammed in the corners, I’m going to probably not eat those, then.)

So…probably don’t do stupid things, my little gumdrops. Or someone, somewhere, is laughing HYSTERICALLY at you at the copydesk of a paper with their amazing coworkers they love more than all the cheese in the world. (ALL the cheese. And there’s a lot of cheese in the world, is how much those coworkers are loved.)

Thus endeth the lesson.

(Oh, and I guess also bring K-Y jelly camping? I don’t even know about that one.)

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 21)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Well, happy March, people of the intertubes. I think it’s supposed to be spring now? Or spring-ish? And sometimes it kind of is. But mostly it’s still cold. I want to open the windows! I want to feel spring breezes on my face! I want to sit on my porch and not freeze my buns off! Plus, Dumbcat loves the spring. He sits in the window and his little nose goes and he squints his eyes with happiness. I don’t know if Newcat will love the window. I assume they will not love the window at the same time, because then there will be all the hissery. SO MUCH HISSERY!

So! Much! Hissery!

So! Much! Hissery!

Well, you know what time this is, right? It’s the end of the month, so that means your cable bills are due, and also your rent bills. And it’s also time to see what search terms are bringing people to the old Football this month! I know you’re probably totally anticipating this every month. I do what I can to brighten your days, my little chocolate drops.

I again tried to make this post not so insanely long this month. Mostly because I’d like to get to bed before midnight tonight. It’s tough to stay awake at my desk if I stayed up until midnight the night before blogging about tomfoolery. (SIDE NOTE: I’m very good at staying up late and not very good at getting up early. I think I have something wrong with my internal clock. That has a name, doesn’t it? Circadian rhythms, right? I like to imagine that like the Church of Scientology and their Thetans. SOMEONE FIX MY CIRCADIANS THEY’RE NOT BEHAVING!)

So, just in case you’re new, let me catch you up on this recurring post. I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (this is the twenty-first one. Aw, my little posts can legally get drunk now! Be careful, little posts, or you’ll wake up on the floor next to your toilet questioning your life choices! Oh, yeah, if you’re interested, search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? I live a very rich inner life, chickadees. As I write these, I like to imagine I’m a FANCY ROCKSTAR with a SPARKLY SEQUINED JUMPSUIT. Just roll with it.

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups. SIDE NOTE: at work, we had to break into groups today. My task was to be the person who made the chart we hung on the wall. Guess whose group had the prettiest chart? Yep, mine. I have EXCELLENT handwriting. Even the group facilitator was all, “You have lovely handwriting. My handwriting on these charts is always terrible and I’m so embarrassed.” I WIN HANDWRITING! I asked one of my group members if I could find a job where I could utilize my marker-and-large-piece-of-paper writing skills, and he said, “Yes. Pre-K teacher.” I said, “How about a job where I don’t have to deal with humans?” He shook his head sadly no.

I don't write anything like this. I always thought these Qs were RIDICULOUS. They just look like 2s. TWOS!

I don’t write anything like this. I always thought these Qs were RIDICULOUS. They just look like 2s. TWOS!

Category the First: So. Many. People.

people you may know facebook (164)

That’s right. One-hundred and sixty-four people searched using some variation of the phrase “people you may know facebook.” That Facebook post I wrote a million billion years ago? Is like the second- or third-most popular post I’ve ever written. People are OBSESSED with People You May Know. And I cannot figure that out. And – check this out. I got an EMAIL the other day from someone asking how to get rid of the People You May Know. An email! From a total stranger who doesn’t even comment on the blog! Like I’m an EXPERT on Facebook! I totally answered it, too. Nicely. And said, “You can’t get rid of that. Sorry.”

Category the Second: No. No, she can’t. Also, that’s rape, chum.

“she can sleep through” cum

Did we learn nothing from Steubenville? If someone’s sleeping, they can’t give consent. And if someone can’t give consent, it’s rape. I would go more into detail about this, but that’s really all you need. Because that’s it. If she can’t say yes or no, it’s a no. And if you go ahead with it anyway, you are a rapist. End of story.

Category the Third: Also known as, everything I’ve ever written here, ever.

a very long story about high school

I also write very long stories about travel, friends, theater, books, television, cats, and sometimes NOTHING AT ALL. You are WELCOME.

Category the Fourth: Porny porn pornerson!

beastsex beast movies sybil d’28 little baby animal porn
mournfull sex story of brother sister

That first one is a LOT of WORDS. You got your beastsex and your beast MOVIES and your Sybil and your “d’28” whatever that is and your little baby animal porn. Put that all together and what do you have? I…don’t even know. Whatever it is, it’s worrisome, and also horrifying.

I think it’s kind of funny that you consider incest mournful (sorry, “mournfull”) and yet you still hit the Googles to search for it. Good job, creeper.

You should ask Jaime about the mournfulness, I think he'd have some serious insights for you.

You should ask Jaime about the mournfulness, I think he’d have some serious insights for you.

Category the Fifth: Ha!

“my penis is gone” srs
baby seal piñata
cant sleep cause my friends are an fire
fight on maury
girl bowel movement
girls that say they sleep sith zak bagans
hello mr. tumnus! i haven’t seen you in a while, but i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know i am doing very well.
i bet you i won’t even get one like with a puppy
married to a frog oreilly
most romantic high schools
turpentine on ebay

This is my favorite category because it cracks me up, yo.

SRS. My penis is gone for SRS. I’m sorry, dude. You probably should SRS call the cops and put in a report or something. It might show up in someone’s lost and found box, you never know.

A baby seal piñata makes me laugh because then you could totally club a baby seal at a party so it’s like multitasky. Also, I like that you put that squiggly over the n. Tilde? I think it’s a tilde? Don’t yell at me. I took French. Oui, mes petites, c’est vrai.

It is a THING! Hooray!

It is a THING! Hooray!

OMG, that is the best misheard music lyric ever. OK, so the lyric (from one of my favorite songs, “Psycho Killer”) is “I can’t sleep ’cause my bed’s on fire.” “I can’t sleep ’cause my FRIENDS are an fire” is HYSTERICAL to me. Also, of COURSE you can’t sleep if your friends are on fire. If you’re sleeping through your friends burning to death, you have no soul. I can’t sleep if my friends are even the slightest bit UPSET about something, I mean, come on, seriously. ON FIRE? Also? PUT THEM OUT!!! THEY ARE YOUR FRIENDS!!!

WHICH fight on Maury are you referring to? Because there are a billion. A BILLION FIGHTS.

Psst, here’s a secret I need to let you in on: yes. It is true. Girls have bowel movements, too. JUST LIKE GUYS. We all poop! Everyone does! Every last person and animal and even goldfish! Try not to be too shocked. I thought it was important you knew.

OMG SITH ZAK BAGANS. I knew there was something sketchy about that ghost hunter! He’s a SITH! That makes SO MUCH SENSE!



Why is someone writing a letter to Mr. Tumnus on my blog? OK, nevermind, I’ll pass it along to him next time I see him, I suppose. As we hang. We do a lot of hanging, me and Mr. Tumnus. We’re tight, yo.

I bet you won’t even GET one. Like with a PUPPY. *kicks rocks* *rues the day*

Aw, I love that you came here looking for Bill O’Reilly comparing gay marriage to marrying a frog. It was actually a turtle, but you’re close. Hi! And welcome! We often like to call out asshattery here; you’re in the right place if you like this kind of thing.

Most ROMANTIC high schools? It’s HIGH SCHOOL. It’s not ROMANTIC. It’s HELL. You’re lucky if you get out ALIVE. It’s not like there are candles in the hallway or chocolate-dipped-strawberries in the library.

Why are you buying turpentine on Ebay? Wouldn’t it be cheaper at Target or something? The shipping alone would be more expensive than just going out and buying it. Unless you’re looking to buy Brandi Carlile’s “Turpentine.” And if that’s the case, you want her whole album The Story, which is wonderful. You should buy it. Absolutely. Here, I haven’t been able to stop listening to this one lately.

Sorry, there’s no real video and this is kind of terrible. Just close your eyes and listen. “I was born when I met you/Now I’m dying to forget you/And that is what I know.”

Category the Sixth: Heads up: I’m pretty easy NOW. Plus I’m bendier than I’ll be then.

amy easy over 70

I’m easy when I’m over 70? Goodness gracious, when I’m over 70, I’ll be kind of tired. Why will I be easy? Also, why are you wasting my easy years, which I’m pretty sure are now? That’s totally wasteful of you. You’re not going to win any environmental awards for that.

Category the Seventh: ME!

crazy without drugs

I am crazy without drugs. I’m just larger-than-life and over the top ALL THE TIME. And there’s no drugs here, babycakes. Well, prescription drugs, but they don’t count. I mean, if I don’t take them, I’d probably die. They don’t take away the crazy, though. It’s good crazy. Don’t worry. I’m not stabbing anyone or wearing tinfoil hats. I don’t think.

Category the Ninth: Why you trying to gank my boyfriend, yo?

daryl dixon
pregnant by daryl Dixon

You cannot have Daryl Dixon. He’s taken. BY ME. I don’t want Norman Reedus, just Daryl Dixon. So, hands off, grabby. You can have Hershel if you want. He’s free. And can’t move very fast so you can totally catch him in a footrace.



Category the Tenth: You cannot. Better people than you have tried. And failed. Miserably.

define:lucy’s football

I reject definitions. I am MANY THINGS to MANY PEOPLE. Some days I’m all serious-face and some days I’m all jokey-face and some days I’m crying over something and some days I’m laughing so hard I’m hiccuping. I’m an enigma. Don’t you slap your definitions on me. They’ll slide right off. I’m like TEFLON, baby.

Category the Eleventh: SJ! THIS ONE IS FOR YOU!

happysj contraccion

I’m not sure what’s happening here, but it’s totally for you, sj. You’re happy and you’re…um…contraccioning? Is it like a contraction? I’m not even sure, but it makes me smile. I like that you get searches here. I’m happy about that. You’re always welcome to my searches, my most favorite sj.

Category the Twelfth: YES! That’s totally what summer’s like around here!

lucy summer red hot central

It is red-hot central around here in the summer, babes. I walk around in a BIKINI, and there are a lot of SHENANIGANS, and water-throwing, and…um…sun-tanning…and…shit, I can’t even keep this up. What I do in the summer is come home, put on my coolest clothing, and flop in front of the air conditioning and pant like an overheated Newfoundland puppy. I don’t deal well with heat. It’s the worst. The. Worst. Sorry to ruin your sexytimes thoughts.

Category the Thirteenth: Yes! Wait. Who the hell’s Patricia?

sex lucy aka patricia

I was so excited I got an indecent proposal and then I think this is misdirected and you’re looking for someone named Patricia and I am most definitely not Patricia and I’m only minimally Lucy so I think this isn’t even for me at all. Dammit. WHEN’S IT GONNA BE MY TIME?

Category the Fourteenth: They ARE? Cool, send ‘em on over.

this person is in love with you

A PERSON! Is in LOVE with me! Well, good. Listen, I’m totally looking forward to this. Because it’s been a long time. I could use a pleasant diversion. And if the guy’s already in love with me, well, there’s half the battle won. But I will tell you right now: if you, person, break my heart, I WILL STAB YOU WITH A BARBECUE SKEWER. I’ve had enough of that shit to last my whole lifetime over. So get on over here. Extra points if you bring a boombox and a trenchcoat and some Peter Gabriel, darlin’.

Is the person in love with me Lloyd Dobler? I'm down with that.

Is the person in love with me Lloyd Dobler? I’m down with that.

There. We are finished for the month! All the search terms! All in one post! ALL FOR YOU DAMIEN! I know, it’s really very impressive. I don’t know where you people come from, but I like that you’re here. You make life so much more interesting, you know? And who wants a boring life? No one, is who.

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 20)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

It is now February. That means – DRUMROLL DRUMROLL TAH DAH TAH DAHHHHHH! We are almost to Andreas-month! Even better, only THREE MORE DAYS til Andreas-DAY! I am sitting here waiting to hear from Andreas that he arrived safely. He should be here in the next two hours. “Here” as in “in my state,” not “here” as in “in my town” because THAT would probably KILL me with excitement, I’m not even kidding. I mean, take how excited I am about him being in New York and multiply it times a bazillion and you’d get Amy dead of a heart attack, surely.

Yes, we did things a little backward this month. I know. Sometimes I like to mix things up. It’s good for you. You should try it. Also, my brain’s kind of focused on Saturday right now, to be honest. Dad keeps saying “you be careful, you’re going to drive into a lamppost.” I like that Dad thinks I live in a town with like a billion lampposts. Like I live in Narnia or something.

Mr. Tumnus! I always wanted to meet Mr. Tumnus. Do we think he's in my closet?

Mr. Tumnus! I always wanted to meet Mr. Tumnus. Do we think he’s in my closet?

I tried to cut down the searches a little this month. Let’s see how I did. I can’t guarantee anything, yo. I’m tricky like that. My “I cut down” is a normal person’s “THIS IS SO LONG (that’s what she said).”

So, just in case you’re new, let me catch you up on this recurring post.  I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (this is the twentieth one. Twenty? Good grief, that seems extreme. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Well, sometimes you find yourself faced with a choice: either write a weird post about your stats, or bungee-jump off your porch with tied-together rubber-bands. And the first choice here is clearly the safer one. Although I do only live on the second floor, so I’m sure I’d be fine. Let’s table that bungee-jump thing for another time, what do you say? Great.

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups. Now find your buddies and do NOT let go of their hands. I’m serious, there are all kinds of baddies out there in the woods. I know that because I’m ONE of them, she said maliciously.

Category the First: I’m so glad, sincerely. Good. Why’d you leave in the first place, though?

i came back she was so happy 

This is nice, and probably also romantic. But my question to you is, my friend – why’d you leave in the first place? Because that’s a question I have to ask. If you love someone, don’t leave ’em. Well, unless they’re like an abusive asshole or something, but if that’s the case, don’t come BACK. Ugh, here’s the thing: it’s a big old world. If you find someone you love enough to be HAPPY to see you come BACK, don’t LEAVE them. There. Fixed it. I win fixing things.

Category the Second: Hmm.

how to draw lucy with a football 
how to find best fuckers in males      
I think someone just called me fat         
i think you’ve got your talents from me
no heart found

These are all curious to me. Why do you want to draw Lucy with the football? Charles Schultz already drew her. You’re really just copying if you do that. And there’s probably a special circle of hell reserved for copiers, yo. Don’t go there. You’ll get all burned and shit. How to find the best fuckers. Well, I think trial and error? I think a lot of trial and error. Also, some men are better at taking direction than others, so if you find a keeper who’s just not the best at…euphemizing…maybe give him some nice (and non-ego-destroying) tips. I’m not Cosmo, so that’s as much as you’re getting out of me here. If you “think” someone just called you fat, you’re not sure. Just let it go. Don’t worry about it. Probably it’s all in your head; I know I think people are talking about me sometimes when they’re not, only because my childhood trauma is loud as hell and says things to me like “THEY’RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU!” so it’s what I’m always expecting. Tell your inner voice to stop being a jerk. I don’t think I got my talents from you, but thanks for trying to steal my thunder, bub. “No heart found” could go either serial-killy or bad-romancey. Which is it, darlin’? Either way, sorry.

Category the Third: Whoa. That’s dedication, dude.

got the shirt as an early christmas gift and was very excited until i put it on. i am a medium in every shirt i own and have owned, except in this. the length went down to the middle of my thighs, the sleeves were abnormally short, overall, the shirt just didn’t make sense. it was definitely not a medium, nor do i recommend it to anyone that thinks they wear one.     

You typed all of this into Google. You typed all of this into Google? Good grief, why? It’s like a review. Why didn’t you write it as a review wherever you BOUGHT the shirt? And why did it bring you here? And listen, I’m sorry you had a shirt with too-short sleeves and too-long shirt-tails. It sounds like a dress. Are we sure it’s not a dress?

Category the Fourth: Come on, guys, really? Go to Craig’s List for this stuff or something, sheesh.

“she is my mom” litrotica vampire          
anemal sex hooly woood actress      
asian fever sex doll 
beastiality pregnant boar -download -video -board    
bestiality pigboar        
bestiality stories boar         
boar sex stories        
erotic flintstones    
local sluts with herpes        
rectal thermometer erotica fetish           
round ass in pants men     
search how to do sex          
sexual watersports  
son wears bra literotica      

This is the kind of crap I find on a daily basis when I look at my search terms, guys. Apparently, people are into – A LOT of people are into – boar-sex. I don’t want to think about this too much. We also want literotica about our family members; Fred and Wilma gettin’ their rocks off (get it? Rocks? Because Flintstones? I could do this ALL DAY, yo); local sluts with herpes (I don’t even); some sort of bum-shenanigans with a thermometer (how is that even hot? Thermometers aren’t even big enough to REGISTER. People are SO WEIRD); and my most favorite, “how to do sex.” HOW TO DO SEX! Well, I can give you tips on this. First, stop saying “do sex” or you’ll sound like Jeff Bridges in Starman.  You will never get to HAVE sex if you call it “doing sex.” Second, good grief, kiddo, if you have to hit the internet and type in “how to do sex” YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO HAVE SEX. Wait a bit. Watch some dirty movies. Maybe not SO dirty. Maybe work your way up to dirty, I don’t know. Do some heavy-petting down at the drive-in first, Daddy-o. You don’t need to be doing sex right now, even though the cool kids all seem to be doing it. PRO TIP: A lot of the cool kids that say they’re doing sex are LYING.

I don't know what's happening here, but Groban makes me laugh SO HARD.

I don’t know what’s happening here, but Groban makes me laugh SO HARD.

Category the Fifth: Ha!

awkward pics of slacks for men    
big lucy is watching you     
blog”i hit curbs”parking     
can a turtleneck protect you from a vampire     
coupon code for remora    
dear dumbcat will you be my friend        
effing meteors unblocked from school   
lucy and the football is a euphemism for     
magic boob potion   
mcdonalds dollar menu with prices        
meaning of lucy’s football  
this thing is going to impale me   
unicorn stab people with my head           
wear hector’s coat euphemism definition          
what to wear skydiving cold turtleneck  
when a person come to reserve for a week end in a hotel when the person will pay what description will the receptionist take?         
who said “come toot” in romeo and juliet?       
why isnt raylan shooting people   

This is my favorite category because it cracks me up, yo.

You’re all about euphemisms this month. I don’t know if Lucy’s Football is a euphemism. It’s more of a…I don’t know. Is it a fable? Can it be like a fable? I don’t even know what you would call it, to be honest. On one level, it’s a simple scene in a cartoon about a bratty little girl who won’t let a sad little boy kick a football. Ever. On another level, it’s about life. And how hard it is to get the things we want. And how they’re right there…until they’re not. And how cruel that is. So it’s not really a fable. Cautionary tale? I don’t even know. All I know is? Shh, it’s a secret, but I’ll tell you. Whatever it is, it’s true.

Unless your turtleneck is made of metal and garlic, I would think a vampire would bite right through that shit. Don’t be foolish.

Coupon code for remora? The suckery things that feed on fish? I think you can have as many of those as you want. You don’t need a coupon code. Just go fishing somewhere they live. SOLVED IT!

Dumbcat can’t be your friend. People scare him. But I’ll give him a cuddle for you, it’s better for everyone.

EFFING METEOR! I wrote someone an email with “Eff” as the subject line lately and he laughed and laughed. “Who says eff?” he said. Me. I say eff.

I’m pretty sure the prices on the dollar menu are…um…a dollar?

Ooh, look, this makes me a liar, some things are NOT a dollar! Misleading!

Ooh, look, this makes me a liar, some things are NOT a dollar! Misleading!

Hee, “come toot.” I don’t know if that’s in Romeo and Juliet? I checked and I’m not seeing it. But there are a lot of interpretations. Keep searchin’, babe, you’ll find your toot someday.

Raylan totally shot someone last week, FINALLY. I know, this season’s been light on shootery, right? It’s the worst, Dad’s so upset.

I don’t understand your question about the hotel. What description? Like, what will the receptionist write in the book? Probably “paid in full?” I don’t know, this question is odd.

ZOMG “wear Hector’s coat.” I don’t even KNOW what that’s a euphemism for. Let’s see what the internet says: NOTHING. So we can totally make up what we think it means. I think condoms. Probably condoms. Also, “this thing is going to impale me.” Hee! THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!

Category the Sixth: I WANT THIS PLEASE.

this is something we call days of no worries     

I want a day of no worries. Can I have a day of no worries? Where can a person get one of these things? Is it called a coma? It’s called a coma, isn’t it? Dammit.

Category the Seventh: We talked about this last month. Yes. Stop being weird.

can you choke yourself to death with a belt      

YES YOU CAN. Stop asking. The answer doesn’t change just because you ask the question over and over. If you put something around your neck, and stop your blood and/or breath, you can die. End of story.

Category the Ninth: Aw, seriously, I’m not Dear Abby, but I can try to help, I suppose.

i’m a chicken shit, i’m a lesbian, but i’m still in the closet, depend on my controlling mother, i have two kids, in my 30s  – you are not a chickenshit, so stop that right now. You’re in a shitty situation and you’re doing your best. You need to think of your kids, and you need to think of yourself. First: stop depending on your mom. Get a job that pays enough that you don’t have to depend on her anymore. Get yourself (and your kids, who are totally, whether you know it or not, sucking up your sadness and it’s not good for them – it’s in their best interest you get yourself better) out from under. Then, when you’re on your own two feet: baby, you come out. You come out loud and you come out proud and you shout it from the rooftops. You love who you were meant to love. Your kids will be so proud of their mom for letting who she is really shine. And if there’s any chance you’re still reading this, I am so proud of you. You keep at it, ok? You’re young. In your 30s? That’s nothing. You can do this. I believe in you.

im upset interviews but no job – yeah, the economy sucks. I really can’t say anything but keep at it. If you know anyone who works anywhere with any job openings, ask them to keep you in mind. That’s how I got my job. I was so lucky. It takes a long time and it’s humbling and it’s terrifying. I know. I’m so sorry.

is it too pressurising to start a little girl to do ballet at 5 years old   – pressurising isn’t a word, first of all, but is it too much pressure? Well, here’s my question. Does she want to take ballet, or do YOU want her to take ballet because you always wanted to don the toe shoes? Don’t put pressure on her. See if she likes it. If she does, awesome. If she doesn’t – well, then, let her not like it. Don’t be one of those terrible shouty reality TV moms. Those poor kids. I feel terrible for them.

mysterious cut on cat’s face  – Dumbcat gets those. I think he scratches himself while bathing. Just keep an eye on it; if it looks infected, or the cat seems to be in pain, go to the vet, otherwise, it will heal on its own.

how to trip over your own feet for musical theatre  – hee! I like this. Walk like normal; don’t look at your feet, or you’ll telegraph what you’re about to do to the audience. While walking, put one foot closely in front of the other and kick it with the front of the other foot and then totally overreact to that and pretend to stumble. Works like a charm; I mostly know this because I do it myself on a regular basis and I’m not even trying to stumble.

Category the Tenth: Aw, you. Thanks!

congratulations on bonus euphemism
don’t know how i live without you


I don’t know how I’d live without me, either. Thanks for the confidence-booster, my friend, it’s much appreciated.

There you go, my sweetest babushkas. I’m going to bed now so when I wake up, I will wake up to the news that Andreas is in my time zone. IN MY TIME ZONE!

UPDATE UPDATE HE IS HERE ANDREAS IS HEREEEEEEE! Welcome to America, Andreas, I am so happy you’re here! I don’t have enough exclamation points to express this! YAY YAY YAY!!!

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 19): Part Two of Two

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Welcome back! We have a lot more to talk about today. Like, I could totally have split this into THREE posts, but I got confused enough how to split it into two evenly. And as you can see, I failed. So let’s get right to it, ok? Awesome.

Blah blah search terms blah blah people are weird blah blah I like to be helpful disclaimer disclaimer. Read yesterday’s post if you want the full monthly treatment. That last sentence is not a euphemism.

Category the Ninth: Hee!  

breed of chicken with hair on their legs
“work like we don’t need the money”
i found a unicorn his name is stabby picture
a nervous cartoon person who thinks she can’t dance
ron swanson wool underwear  
woman using a gopher as seen on tv
snort laugh
badger weird
from where i came from everyone’s a hero tshirt
thing that make you laugh so hard you cry
how to draw a chubby hamster
you can’t make me happy! i utterly refuse to be happy!
i’m a stupid cat sheet music
someone told me, “i don’t know your life”
dad said i am a gecko
a cat riding a unicorn eating a hotdog
sneaky fuckers can fuck them selves quotes
an awesome holiday speech using only 140 characters excluding punctuation marks
i don’t know how people sit in skinny jeans
nursery rhymes that can be used as frightening slogans for a serial killer?

I don’t know if Blossom was ever *funny*. I might have thought it was when I was a kid, but I thought a lot of things were, back then. I was easily amused. It might have been unintentionally funny. Like, the acting or the fashion or something.

Chickens don’t have hair on their legs. They have feathers. Birds don’t have hair because they are not mammals. That’s Bio 101, friends and neighbors. And those chickens are called “feather-legged” or “feather-footed” (creative, no?) and here’s one, called a Cochin. And it is FUNNY. It looks like it’s wearing feathery pantaloons.

“Work like we don’t need the money.” Well, if I didn’t need the money, I wouldn’t work. No, wait, that’s not true. I’d still do some things. I would still review plays, because that’s not work, to me. That’s fun. It’s the best thing. But otherwise, I’d stay home, I’d write, and I’d spend time with my loved ones, both with my face and virtually. So, your phrase is somewhat flawed, my friend. If we didn’t need the money, why would we work?

A unicorn named Stabby, hmm? Oh, wait, it’s a thing.

I’m a real-life nervous person who knows I can’t dance. That must be better than a nervous cartoon person, right?

Ron Swanson wool underwear. That would actually be the best marketing scheme ever. I think people would buy longjohns if they were Ron Swanson brand.

Hee, a Gopher as seen on TV, yeah? Ooh, wait, I can find that for you. I totally can.

Here you go. BTW, I have one of these. It doesn't work.

Here you go. BTW, I have one of these. It doesn’t work.

I totally snort-laugh. On the regular. It’s how you know I really enjoyed something, and also that I’m not classy. I also highly appreciate things that make me laugh so hard I cry. That doesn’t always happen – once a week? Sometimes every couple of weeks? But when it does, it is just the best. It’s one of those things in the world you need to appreciate when it happens, seriously, because it doesn’t happen enough.

Badgers aren’t weird. They are WONDERFUL. Look, look!



This “everyone’s a hero” thing is from a few years ago and apparently was for victims of the typhoon in the Phillipines. And again, confusing how it brought you here.

A chubby hamster! Aw, stop overfeeding your hamster. And I would think that in order to draw one, you would just draw a round hamster, right? But I’m not an artist, what do I know.

Aw, hee, “utterly refuse to be happy!” Well, far be it from me to force anyone to be happy. I don’t want to do that. I mean, if you want to be miserable, you do your thing, you little black raincloud.

Is “I’m a stupid cat” a thing? And there’s sheet music for it? Oh, Dumbcat has a THEME SONG! This is VERY exciting. He’s looking forward to hearing this. Someone find this and play this for him.

“I don’t know your life” is one of my my favorite things. Plus it always reminds me of Jim.

Your dad called you a gecko? I don’t know what to do about this. Is it a good thing? A bad thing? I don’t know that I’d mind being called a gecko, because I like geckos. But I don’t think my dad would call me a gecko. Sometimes he calls me an elephant because I never forget, though. Also because I’m very loud when I walk. He seems to think elephants are loud walkers, for some reason.

I’m pretty sure there is no photo of a cat riding a unicorn eating a hot dog, but I’ll search. For you. Because I love you.

Nope. But I found this:

This is a cat wearing a unicorn horn, and the look on this cat's face has made me laugh so hard. SO HARD. For like twenty minutes.

This is a cat wearing a unicorn horn, and the look on this cat’s face has made me laugh so hard. SO HARD. For like twenty minutes.

I don’t think you understand how sneaky fuckers work. They don’t fuck THEMSELVES. They fuck OTHERS. Sometimes your girl- or boyfriends. You’re welcome, happy to set you straight.

An “awesome” holiday speech. And you’re not fooling anyone; if you want it to fit in 140 characters you’re planning on tweeting it, weirdo. The holidays are past. You missed your window. And stop trying to be awesome. Awesome comes when you least expect it. Just relax, sunshine, all will be well.

I’m not sure how people sit in skinny jeans, either. Carefully, I’d imagine. Like when I was in high school, I used to have to lie down on the bed to zip myself into my super-tight 80s jeans? Then I’d walk around all stagger-legged until they loosened up for like an hour. And you went through your day worried the zipper would give out. I’d assume skinny jeans have the same issues, right?

OMG, nursery rhymes as frightening slogans for serial killers. I love this. “Bye baby bunting; Daddy’s gone a’hunting.” “They all ran after the farmer’s wife, who cut off their tails with a carving knife.” “And down will come baby, cradle and all.” Actually, any nursery rhyme, chanted in a creepy way, would totally work, here. Nice search. Good job.

Gorey got that fairy tales were creepy. And look, here I am falling down the stairs!

Gorey got that fairy tales were creepy. And look, here I am falling down the stairs! This has totally happened before to me.

Category the Tenth: Yes. I would imagine it did.

dunkin donuts smoked sausage made me sick

Yup. It looks disgusting. So I would imagine it would probably taste just as bad, and make you ill. So why’d you eat it, Weirdo McWeirderson? There are tastier things at Dunkin’ Donuts, yo. One of those things? Donuts. As mentioned in the name. Get those.

Category the Eleventh: No. No, they don’t. This is not a 1980s comedy.

girls like to sit at home nude

Do some men really think these things happen? That we like to hang around all naked and also probably that we have naked pillowfights and also say things like “let’s practice kissing on each other” and such? You are aware that these things don’t really happen, right? I’m not saying I’ve NEVER been naked in my house. Of course I have. I live alone, there’s no reason that I need to be ALWAYS fully clothed, like, if I forget something in the bathroom while I’m in the middle of getting dressed I can totally run in the bathroom and get it. Who’s going to see me, Dumbcat? He doesn’t care. He’s naked all the time. He’s like a little furry exhibitionist. But I don’t sit AROUND naked. It’s unsanitary and I’d get cat hair on my bits. And also I’d get cold. I like to be cool, but not cold. Today, for example, I am wearing a sweatshirt and jeans because, well, it’s cold. Sorry. No naked-time, pervy. You’ll have to get your jimjams out somewhere else.

Category the Twelfth: Me, too. ME TOO.

“i hate murder mystery” games             

I also hate murder mystery games. I’m not good at playacting. Which is ironic, because I’m an actress. I’ve never BEEN in one, though. Only had to watch them. So maybe being in one wouldn’t be so terrible, I don’t know. I don’t rule anything out in life. Because when you do that, that’s when that thing happens, and you feel like a fool. A FOOL, I tell you.

Category the Thirteenth: Things that make me so sad

little girl singing hallelujah
i would love if someone on facebook would talk to me on chat

lonely people looking for friends in facebook list
lonely people

sad clown smoking weed
i kill myself tomorrow    
I’m going to kill myself, you know   
some people are scared of love quotes
i miss you like funny
miss you humor
being called a fat bitch by your baby’s father
no blog followers
can u choke yourself to death with a belt

The “hallelujah” thing made me sad because I’ve been listening to a lot of covers of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” lately (which is, and will always be, one of my favorite songs – to me, it’s one of those perfect songs, you know? There aren’t a lot of those. But this one’s one of them. Jeff Buckley’s cover will always be my favorite, but I love a lot of other covers, too) and it brings me to tears every time. Every single time. And if you think about it, a song that brings you to tears every time, when you’ve heard it probably 100 times in your life or something, kind of wins. I start crying at “there was a time when you let me know/what’s really going on below/but now you never show that to me, do you?” and then when he comes in with “all I’ve ever learned from love/was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you” I’m gone.

You want…who to talk to you on chat. Your friends? Strangers? If you want to talk to strangers, go to Twitter. If you want to talk to your friends…well, sweetie, talk to your friends. Hit them up on chat. I’m sorry you’re lonely. I get it. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I get it. And I’m sorry. I’m also sorry you’re looking for friends in your “people you may know” list because you’re lonely. I wish I could tell you how to fix this. All I can tell you is to hold on. Your people are out there. There are people for everyone. Sometimes it just takes a little longer to find them, is all.

ZOMG, sad clown smoking weed. This even makes me feel bad for a CLOWN, you guys. Also, why so many weed-related searches this month? I don’t even approve of the stuff. I think it makes you stupid. Anything that makes you stupid is not something I can sign off on. I despise stupidity in all its forms.

I got a lot of searches for people who are going to kill themselves. I’m really hoping it’s because once I talked about The Royal Tenenbaums and not because people are really going to kill themselves. Listen, I’ll say the same thing as I did above: hold on. I understand suicidal tendencies as much as I understand loneliness. Don’t even think I don’t. Which is why, whenever I hear anyone’s committed suicide, I don’t think, “What a dumbass,” I think, “I get it. I wish they’d waited a bit, though, because things do get better.” Listen, kiddos. Or grownup-os. I get it. I’m not just saying I get it. I get it. I’ve been there. Moments away from there, actually. And I still have a brain that tends to walk down those paths when things get rough. I think I always will. But – well, don’t. Because you can’t even begin to imagine the things you’ll miss out on. Had I gone through with it, I would have missed the best years of my life. And you don’t think so, but your death will make others so, so lost. You’re not just erasing yourself, you’re hurting people who love you. Please don’t. Find someone to talk to. There are helplines. You can email people for help. You can talk to friends, family members, someone at your church, I don’t even care. Talk to SOMEONE. Please. I don’t want to get all “life’s too precious for you to throw it away,” but it is. It really, really is.

I don’t know if people are scared of love. People are scared of the end result of love: loss. Because yes, sometimes love works out for the best. Sure it does. But more often than not, someone’s heart gets broken. And you can’t breathe with the pain of it. And you wonder when this is going to stop, because isn’t it going to get better, eventually? Days pass, turning into weeks, a month, more, and it still hurts, just as much as it did when it started. Because our hearts, they are stupid. Very, very stupid. And they just want to go back to before, when there is no before to go back to. So, no. People are not scared of love. People are scared of not-love. People are scared of what happens when the love leaves.

There is nothing funny or humorous about missing someone. You can’t make it be funny, and there is nothing you can tell me that will change my mind about this, so stop it.

Your baby’s father is calling you a fat bitch. Well, that’s Maury-worthy, isn’t it? And sad. Listen, I’m sorry. Sometimes babies show up in relationships and the relationship wasn’t the most stable to begin with. Because human reproduction can happen whether or not you’re in love, or whether or not you’re in the best position to be a stable couple to raise that child. I know! It is TRUE! Don’t allow yourself to be around someone who is calling you names; don’t allow your child to be around someone who is disrespecting you. And I’m sorry. It’s tough. It’s never an easy situation, this.

Yes. You can choke yourself to death with a belt. It is a thing that happens. You’ve heard of autoerotic asphyxiation, I assume? Belts. Or whatever they’re choking themselves out with. And people die from this. Don’t tie things around your neck. That’s where your air goes.

Category the Fourteenth: Fun foreign things

finlands karta städer – this means “map cities” in Swedish. So this search is asking for Finland’s “map cities” in Swedish, which is a big ball of crazy contradictions. But I think this one’s for you, Andreas.

us bundesstaaten – this means “US federal states” in German, which sounds a lot fancier in German than it is in English, sadly, as is often the case.

カメリア・シネンシス- this means “Camellia sinensis” in Japanese. Which is the plant from which we get tea. Aren’t I a fancypants? JAPANESE searches, you guys!

übersetzung rather large amount of gratitude  – unless Google’s screwing with me, this word MEANS translation in German. Hmm. So I’m assuming the person wanted the German word for a large amount of gratitude? Can’t help you, darlin’, sorry. No idea.

Category the Fifteenth: This saying confuses me

be the kind of a girl when you wake up devil says oh crap she’s up

I know someone who has this hanging in her office cubicle, and every time I see it I am confused. Are we saying you’re like a devil? That you’re worse than the devil? That you scare the devil? That’s you’re so PURE you scare the devil? I don’t really understand this. I think I’d be happy if the devil didn’t pay any attention to me. I find the devil frightening and hope I’m not on the devil’s radar. Because, well, fire and pitchforks and shit.

Category the Sixteenth: I *am*?

when i logged in into my facebook account, your seen there in people you may know list      

I’m seen there? Really? Me? Do you think you might know me? Well, you could send me a friend request, but I might delete it. I don’t accept a lot of ’em. Because, well, strangers. It’s not like I say much that’s scandalous over there. It’s just that I don’t accept a lot of strangers. Sorry, strangers. Also, it’s “you’re.” YOU’RE welcome.

Category the Seventeenth: Things I can help with

tomato frog facts for kids
brackets punctuation rules         
diferent types of poetry
what does “stalks his prey in the night” mean
people you may know checking my facebook
analyse fully and i’ll no longer be a capulet          
new york streets
bear bare homophones
what does the story you knew i was a snake when you picked me up mean?

Tomato frog facts: most of them live in Madagascar; they are red, hence the name; they secret a gummy toxic substance (that’s what she said) to make predators let them loose; they can puff themselves up when frightened; they can live from 6-8 years, and they are endangered. You’re welcome!

The rules for brackets are twisty and turny. Here’s a website; this will help. Similar to parentheses, but not quite. Here you go. Conquer grammar, my darlings. It makes me happy you’re interested. More than you know.

There are MANY types of poetry. SO many. Something for everyone. You’ll never get bored. You can rhyme or not rhyme or rhyme a little…whatever floats your boat, darlin’. Have so much fun.

“Stalks his prey in the night.” Are you attempting to analyze “The Eye of the Tiger?” I think it’s relating a man on the prowl for a ladyfriend to a tiger on the prowl for meat. A tiger stalks his prey in the night, as a man stalks his “prey” (a lady) in the night as well, probably not on the veldt, though. Probably in bars or at the laundromat or whatever. Are you writing some sort of school paper about this song? I want to read it when you’re done, please.

If people you may know are checking your Facebook (how do you know they are?) I have five words for you; I’ve said them before, and I’ll say them again. LOCK THAT SHIT DOWN, YO. Set your privacy settings and lock it DOWN. Don’t let strangers look in your windows. Pull your blackout curtains. It’s none of their business. If you don’t do this, it’s your damn fault people are looking at you.

Haven’t we talked about this before? “I’ll no longer be a Capulet” is Juliet saying not only is she going to change her name to Montague when she marries Romeo, but she’ll renounce her affiliation to her family out of love for him; her love for him trumps everything, familial duty, everything in the world. When I first read this, I was Juliet’s age, and I was all “swoon swoon! THAT IS SO ROMANTIC!” But now I am a grown-ass woman and I think, “Yeah. Any romantic relationship you’re in that causes you to renounce people or things you loved previously in order to keep it alive is an abusive one that is destined for heartbreak, Juliet, and really, this relationship had ‘mutual suicide in the tomb’ written all over it from the get-go.” But that’s just me, right? Right.

New York streets. They are wonderful and sometimes people-choked and sometimes empty; they have so much history on them you can feel it around you like ghosts. You walk them and you feel part of a bigger whole. Every street has a different feel; every street has something amazing to look at on it; every street is an adventure. Just a little over a month and I’ll be back. With Andreas, even, so it’s twice as special. Can’t wait.

Bear bare homophones. This made me laugh because there’s a long-running joke on 30 Rock that this is the fictional NBC’s highest-rated game show: one where they say a homophone, like “bee” and ask the contestant to guess: is it the insect, or the verb tense? And the contestant guesses, and he/she is ALWAYS WRONG. They had a celebrity version where it was John McEnroe and he of course lost his shit: “THIS GAME IS RIGGED! IT’S ALWAYS THE OPPOSITE ONE OF THE ONE I PICK!!!”

We talked about the story of the snake and knowing what it was, Short Attention Span McGee. If you pick up a snake, and it bites you, it’s your own damn fault. You picked up that snake. You knew the risks; you shouldn’t be whining “BUT IT BIT ME!” because you KNEW. People are snakes, sometimes. And if you picked up someone who had the potential to bite you, and he/she bit you? Well, don’t go whining you need antivenom. It’s your own damn fault.

Category the Eighteenth: Oh, well, Dumbcat likes this. Dumbcat likes this a lot.    

ask lucy cat

Dumbcat says to tell you if you have any questions for him, he’d be glad to answer them and give you advice, because he’s nothing if not helpful. He’s furry AND helpful. And warm. He’s on my leg right now, snoring like a buzzsaw. Such a good boy, this one. And happy to answer your questions, if you have any for him he can answer. Last night he was super-bereft because I left the house at 8am and didn’t get home until almost 11pm and who would give him his treats at 8pm? No one. So he went “Meoooooow! Meooiuuuuu? MEOW! Meoiuuuu?” when I came in and it made me so sad. Sorry I’m a neglectful mom, bub.

Category the Nineteenth: …and finally, possibly the best search term that got anyone here, ever 

what’s that blog called football, but isn’t about football, lucy something

I’ve made it. I’ve really made it. I’m “that blog called football that isn’t about football lucy something.” SNIFF. I’m so PROUD.

Two days of search terms! Impressive, no? No questions. Step that shit up next month, searchers, or else it’s to your detriment, seriously. I can’t help you unless you LET me.

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)

(Psst, also, it’s Amy’s Mom’s birthday today. Happy birthday, Amy’s Mom! Even though you will never read this because one time I used a dirty word and that means I’m not a LADY! Have a good day hanging out with the nuns! No, seriously, my mom is spending her birthday hanging out with nuns, that’s not even a euphemism for anything else. Nuns! Happy birthday, Mom!)

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 19): Part One of Two

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Welcome to January! I totally almost forgot about this post. I’ve had…a month. A month it has been, my dearest darlings. Like, if you were look back on all the months there have been in the history of months, this one can bite me. Twice. Hard. And then I would like to throat-punch it.

Now, I know. Usually, we split this shit up into two posts: this one, and tomorrow’s questiony post. But here’s the scoop: I didn’t have good questions this month. I don’t know why this is. I assume it’s either because a., I already answered all of your questions, so my work here is done, or b., you’re all frozen because it’s so effing cold no one wants to do anything but sit in front of the heater and weep. Or maybe a little of both.

It's so cold the HAMSTER needs a HAT.

It’s so cold this GUINEA PIG needs a HAT.

However, I had a lot of regular searches. Well, let’s put that in sarcastic air quotes. “Regular” searches. None of my searches are overly “regular,” let’s just be honest here. So many that this post would have been like a month and a half long. Who has time for this? No one. So I’m splitting THIS post up over two days. Because I totally roll with the punches, here at the old Lucy’s Football. What’s that? I don’t roll with the punches and change scares and upsets me and I just…can’t…handle…it? FINE. You know too much. Go sleep with the fishes. SLEEP WITH THE FISHES I SAID. And if you see Nemo say hi. But don’t ask him about his little fin, he’s sensitive about that.

Don't ask about the fin, I told you. It's really none of your business.

Don’t ask about the fin, I told you. It’s really none of your business.

So, just in case you’re new, let me catch you up on this recurring post.  I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (this is the nineteenth one. I’ve been blogging for what seems like a very long time, right? It’s kind of mind-boggling. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Oh, you know. Because I’m out of hard liquor and what else are you going to do on a Saturday night, you know?

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups. As I do. What, you’re not used to that by now? I’ve been doing that for like a YEAR. You can’t even complain about it, it’s not like it’s unprecedented.

Category the First: A thing that is fascinating to people, apparently

facebook people you may know (99)

Yep. You’re reading that right. Ninety-nine people (and a bitch ain’t one) searched and found my blog using this term. Why are you people so fascinated with the “people you may know” feature on Facebook? I mean, it rocks for my stats, but it’s a little perplexing for me. I guess it’s my own fault; I blogged about it once. But the fact that it continues to fascinate you – and there are MORE searches for SIMILAR Facebook things coming up, don’t even think there aren’t – kind of fascinates ME. I think I could write a whole book mocking Facebook and make my millions. Hey, don’t steal my totally good idea, you totally-good-idea-stealers.

Category the Second: Stop. It is the same as the female brain. Promise.

male brain (47)

A while back, I posted (and mocked) a joke cartoon of “the male brain” where it was all “this is the part of the brain that ogles boobs” or whatever. PEOPLE ARE OBSESSED WITH THAT AND KEEP COMING HERE TO FIND IT. Listen, I said it then, I’m saying it now. YOU ARE BEING SEXIST. Our brains are the same. It’s the people WITH the brains that are the problem, yo. If you run all up into an asshole, and you’re like “it’s because his brain is WIRED differently! Because he’s a BOY PERSON!” – NO. It’s because he’s an asshole, and not because his brain is wrong. Well, his brain might be wrong, too, but not because he’s got dangly-parts. Stop it right now, because if you keep that shit up, you’re perpetuating stupid gender stereotypes, and my beloved nephew’s gonna pick up on that shit. And then I’ll come to your house and poke you with a tent pole.

Category the Third: Famous people

spencer reid
is joey greco related to zak bagans

Sigh. SIGH.

Sigh. SIGH.

I get a lot of Spencer Reid searches. That’s ok, as long as you realize he’s mine and you can’t have him. Also, I like that Joey Greco might be Zak Bagans’ dad. I think that’s a very fine supposition. They’re both totally douchey. Whoever figured that out should probably get some sort of detective award or something, yo.

Category the Fourth: Um. Confusing.

what does a football look like
tumblr sauna
benedict cumberbatch hair color
i am not nephew
stab shoulder bogart
how to hide electrical cords on ceiling
hairstyles with widows peak women wth close hairs
flea market booth setup ideas for pants
12th gorgeous 07/12 i wait
barnum and bailey animal crackers man
facebook people you may know all girls
i am obama smoking marijuana sayings
medicine for sex power which smells like turpentine
condom for secret clip art free

You people keep coming here and asking me what a football looks like. Are you from another country? I am completely confused how you don’t know what a football looks like, and why you don’t just do a Google image search, which is what normal people do when they want to know what a thing looks like.

I don’t know what a Tumblr sauna might be. A Tumblr all about saunas? I guess? Would there be enough sauna photos FOR such a Tumblr? This is perplexing.

Again, I’d think if you did a Google image search, you could find out what color Benedict Cumberbatch’s hair is. He dyes it a lot for whatever project he’s working on, so it changes a lot, is what I discovered. Using Google image search. Which I recommend you also do. Have I drummed that into your head well enough yet? Good, good.

When he's Sherlock, he's got dark hair...and then sometimes it's this color, and sometimes it's blonde. He's pretty no matter what.

When he’s Sherlock, he’s got dark hair…and then sometimes it’s this color, and sometimes it’s blonde. He’s pretty no matter what.

“I am not nephew.” No. Nor am I. I am, however, niece. And daughter and sister and aunt and granddaughter and cousin and goddaughter and friend. Why are you searching such a thing, I have to wonder?

I don’t even have a guess as to what “stab shoulder Bogart” might be. Are you looking for a movie where Bogie got stabbed in the shoulder, maybe? I don’t know that I’ve seen anything he’s been in but Casablanca, and you’re going to hate me, but I was so so bored during that movie I don’t even remember if he got stabbed or not. I watched it when I was really young, though. Maybe I’d appreciate it more now, I don’t know.

I enjoy that you’re coming to me for home decorating advice. Why do you have electrical cords in your ceiling? I have an idea. Don’t put them up there, then you don’t need to hide them. I WIN! What? You have to have them there? Fine. Maybe…um…hang things from them? I have a lot of things hanging from my ceiling, like a flying frog who’s supposed to keep bad spirits out, and some wind chimes and shit. You could do that, I guess. Add a little flair, people won’t even notice all those cords all over the place, I guess, I don’t know.

I have a widow’s peak? So for a while, I was thinking, maybe I can help with this. But then I got confused by the “wth close hairs” part. What the hell does that mean? I have no idea what’s happening with these search terms. What the hell are close hairs? I don’t think I have those. Whatever they are.

I am apparently the go-to person if you want to set up your pants-selling booth at the flea market. Hmm. How about…you…um…FOLD those pants. And then PUT THEM ON A TABLE. And people will LOOK AT THEM. And then BUY THEM. Listen, it’s a flea market and you’re selling pants, not bongs. You’re not going for the flashy, here. Just put your pants on the table. Someone will buy them. Maybe. I guess. People bought a lot of garbage at that flea market I went to in Florida. It was distressing.

“12th gorgeous 07/12 i wait.” This is like a little code, or maybe a warning, and I’m not quite sure which. Should I be scared? Or maybe it’s a compliment. Are you complimenting me? Aw, thanks, unless you’re threatening me. Or this is a code for something else. My head hurts.

There’s no man in the animal crackers box. If there was, the animals would eat him. Be reasonable. Crap, now I want animal crackers.

Hee, someone made a little diagram. This makes me smile. And look, NO MAN. Because the animals would eat that man.

Hee, someone made a little diagram. This makes me smile. And look, NO MAN. Because the animals would eat that man. Also, I think the “monkey” is an ape, which will make Andreas angry, and I like the question mark after bear.

Are all the people in your “people you may know” female? Well, that seems like Facebook made a mistake. Or you’re just wishful thinking. Are you just wishful thinking, sir?

Is this a thing? Is “I am Obama smoking marijuana” a thing, because it kind of rhymes? What is wrong with people. Leave the president alone, he has a very hard job and I don’t think he’s toking up to deal with all the pressure. Stop being a weirdo.

“Medicine for sex power which smells like turpentine” is totally my new favorite quote. I’m going to get it on a t-shirt, and I’m going to put it as my Twitter quote and also everywhere else there’s an “about me” section. Are you asking about the song “Love Potion Number 9?” That mentions turpentine. But “sex power” is the funny part here, my sad searchy friend. Do you really need sex power? Do you really? And if you do, do you think typing it in this fashion in a search engine is the way to go?

Secret condoms? Free clip art? WHAT IS HAPPENING WHAT IS HAPPENING? Also, condoms aren’t secret. You can buy ’em at the Rite Aid, yo. No one even looks at you weird anymore, it’s 2013. I think people are just glad you’re wrapping that salami. Especially if you’re that sex power turpentine guy.

Category the Fifth: Pervy people are pervy

cartoon masturbator
fuck a silicone sex doll
blowjobs are pricey funny
latest sexnews
buy pantyhose stolen from laundry

Not a REAL masturbator. A cartoon one. Well, that’s not as deeply disturbing, then. Still DISTURBING, just not as DEEPLY disturbing.

Please don’t have sex with a silicone sex doll. It’s not only sad, it’s kind of gross, and then you have to hose it off.

Is the fact that blowjobs are pricey funny? And I think they’re probably not as pricey as actual sex. I mean, I’m not really up on the menu of prices for prostitution, or anything, but I’d think it would be cheaper for a blowjob than actual sex-sex? And again, I’m not sure that it’s HUMOROUS, per se.

I found this for you. And I am CORRECT. Sex is MORE EXPENSIVE.

I found this for you. And I am CORRECT. Sex is MORE EXPENSIVE.

Hee, “sexnews.” I like that it’s all one word. I don’t know what the latest sexnews is. I assume it’s that people are having sex, and other people want to stop them from having sex. That’s the way of the world, jellybeans. Always have been, always will be, sadly.

OMG! I KNEW all those pantyhose searches I’ve been getting were pervy! There is a market for stolen pantyhose from the laundromat? GROSS GROSS! Leave my pantyhose alone! (I haven’t had any pantyhose at the laundromat for a while. It’s just too damn cold for skirts these days. My legs would freeze to death.)

Category the Sixth: Annoying

keep calm and booyah

I’m sorry. I know you, the internet, are obsessed with this “keep calm and…” thing. But it annoys me. Because people are using it TOO MUCH. There’s no need for “keep calm and booyah,” you guys. No need at all. Stop it. Also, how did that get you here? I don’t think I’ve ever used any of these phrases until now.

Category the Seventh: Oh, holy hell, what? NO NO NO!!!

witchcraft using clowns
slappy the dummy doll as human

OMG. ZEE OH EMM GEEE. Not only CLOWNS, but WITCHCRAFT using clowns. Can you even IMAGINE such a thing? Thanks for the nightmares tonight, searcher.

SIDE NOTE! Not too long ago, I mentioned that a clown started following me on Twitter? And I freaked out of scaredness? Well, I need to issue a public apology. sj explained that was her friend Le Clown, and he was very nice and I would like his blog. And I was skeptical. Because, well, CLOWN, you guys. But luckily, neither of them would let it go. Come to find out, Le Clown (aka Eric, much as Lucy’s Football is aka Amy) is (as sj SAID he would be: I really never should doubt her, yo) intelligent, funny, and a very, very good writer. And you know what I think about good writers, right? I love them. LOVE. If someone can move me to tears with their writing, I’m one sold kitten. (If you don’t click on anything else, you should click on that link. Because that post? Utter and complete gorgeousness.) Also, it was his birthday yesterday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LE CLOWN! So sometimes – SOMETIMES, I said – clowns are ok. No, seriously. Look at the growth I’ve done in 2013 already, isn’t this grand? Sure it is. I totally made a new friend. And, my apologies for not following you sooner; I’m not an easy woman to win over. Especially when clowns are involved. But you won. (Well, some people consider me a win, some a loss; you’ll have to make that decision yourself, I suppose.) End of lengthy side note-slash-apology. Moving on.

What the hell is “slappy the dummy doll?” OK, because I love you, I researched this. It’s apparently a ventriloquist’s dummy in the Goosebumps series, which I was too old to read as a child. (The kids I babysat used to watch this show on TV and it scared them but they still watched it, which always made me giggle.) Apparently Slappy was evil and rude and carved out of coffin wood and came to life when you read witchy words over him. Well, THAT’S worrisome.

Also, he's super-creepy. But are there ventriloquist dummies that aren't? No, I don't think so.

Also, he’s super-creepy. But are there ventriloquist dummies that aren’t? No, I don’t think so.

Category the Eighth: This makes me cry because it’s one of the most beautiful things ever. Thanks for coming here because of it.  

“you have played, (i think) and broke the toys you were fondest of, and are a little tired now; tired of things that break, and— just tired. so am i.” ― e.e. cummings 

I re-read this poem at least once a week. And it makes me cry at least once a week. Something about cummings just speaks to me. I like, of course, how he plays with language, and the spaces between the words and such…but his words. His choices of them. He seems to get me. Which speaks volumes for the power of poetry, and its ability to reach us through the generations. I am a little tired now. I have broken the toys I am fondest of. I am so, so tired of things that break. I am just tired.


Let’s stop here, and pick up tomorrow, with talk of many things, like chickens and music and falling down stairs. Don’t worry, there is plenty to talk about, my most dear darlings. I’m never at a loss for words. Not even a little.

Until tomorrow! May your search terms befuddle and entertain you always.

Love, Me.

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