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.
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 video.com
asian fever sex doll
beastiality pregnant boar -download -video -board
bestiality pigboar womem.in
bestiality stories boar
boar sex stories
local sluts with herpes
rectal thermometer erotica fetish
round ass in pants men
search how to do sex
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.
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?
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
NOW WITH SPECIAL BONUS EUPHEMISM! FREE WITH PURCHASE!
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.
(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)