Category Archives: apology

The same thing we do every night, Pinky—try to take over the world!

Ever since I posted about how we can hypermetabolize with our brains, Jim has been OBSESSED with this. He keeps commenting that he’s going to hypermetabolize with his brain and then he’s going to win…um…something, I don’t know. Here, I’ll let him tell you.

I’m sorry…I can’t get behind this hypermetabolism-as-trauma thing. It sounds like superpower. And the reason the rats died is because they just. couldn’t. hack it. Now I want hypermetabolism. I will lose weight and solve complicated math problems and lift all the weights! And my skin will most likely sparkle and they’ll make a movie about me, but they’ll call me a vampire because I stay up all night and kick so much ass. And because THEY CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!

I failed last night at hypermetabolism because I fell asleep in the middle of it, because I am an elderly. But tonight!! Ohhhhhh, tonight I will fucking SHINE!!!

He has since commented numerous times that he keeps falling asleep but SOON HE WILL HYPERMETABOLIZE. (Also, “I am an elderly” was the winner and made me giggle and giggle. Also, Jim’s only slightly more of an elderly than I am.)

Well, Jim, listen. You know I adore you. You know I do. You’re one of my favorite people that lives in my computer. You make me laugh. You are SMART and you are KIND and you are WACKY. So what I’m going to say right now is probably going to hurt a little. I’m sorry. I don’t like to hurt the people I care about. Here is a picture of an otter who also doesn’t like to hear bad news to mitigate the pain a little. I know you love otters.

Jim: I don’t think you’re ever going to be able to hypermetabolize. What with the elderly-ness and the sleeping and such.

I know. I’m sorry. I hate to break your heart. You’re so awesome, and that’s so mean of me.

However, to make things better, I decided to do some research for you. I mean, there must be some things we can do with our brains that are NOT hypermetabolizing. And there ARE. Oh, you wait. We have SO MANY BRAIN THINGS TO TALK ABOUT, Jim.

First, let’s get our brains to work for us, Jim. I mean, we carry these brains around with us and we keep them SAFE and WARM and what do they do for us? Nothing. So let’s make our brains DO something for us.

Luckily, in situations like this, we have our old friend wikiHow. wikiHow knows what’s up.

wikiHow’s going to tell us how to be TELEKINETIC, Jim! That’s GOT to be better than hypermetabolizing, right?

This article starts with SCIENCE. Well, Andreas will like it, then. It says all telekinesis is is SCIENCE. It is transferring the energy in our BODIES to the energy in things OUTSIDE of our body. Now, I don’t know what you’re going to use your telekinesis for, Jim, but I plan on using mine to either tweet or change the channels on the TV. All those little fiddly buttons! I think my brain should do this for me. I’ve got better things to do.

Next, it says choose something light to start with. So, I guess I shouldn’t choose Dumbcat, he weighs as much as a sack of potatoes. An unintelligent sack of potatoes that fell off the bookcase today when he jumped up on it. Um. Let’s see. I have a fortune from a fortune cookie over here that I’ve been meaning to tell you about because the fortune was so dumb. That’s pretty light. Let’s use that. wikiHow says to LET GO of the idea that the fortune and my brain are different because they CONTAIN THE SAME ENERGY. OK. So…all things are the same because they contain the same energy? I don’t know if that’s how science works. Andreas, is that how science works?


Then they want us to recognize and celebrate the energy flowing through our body but that seems like hippie shit. Is this article about hippie shit? I was not warned there would be hippie shit here. It says to flex all your muscles and FEEL THE BURN and also sit somewhere cold and then warm yourself up using the power of your mind. Well, kumbaya, you granola-loving flowerchild.

Hare krishna….HARE KRISHNA….damn hippies.

Next the person who wrote this article seems to have lost their mind because they start talking about how you can either push, pull or spin the item, but it’s a lot easier to pull the item, but not to levitate it (was levitating it even an option earlier? You can’t just throw in levitation like it’s just THERE) and then goes on and on and ON about calories and heat expended and such. I assume he or she is just trying to confuse us with sciencey terms. YOU DO NOT WIN. I’m still curious about this levitation thing you just popped in all willy-nilly.

This is not easy! You will bump your head on the ceiling, look out!

It then tells you to “focus your energy and direct it toward the system” but DOES NOT TELL YOU HOW TO DO IT. What the hell, wikiHow? That’s like giving someone directions on how to drive a car: “get behind the wheel and go.” Or how to bake a cake: “get some ingredients and make it.” UNHELPFUL.

It says to stop when you are tired. Well, that’s nice. Thanks for looking out for me, internets. I wish you’d told me this at the BEGINNING of the article, that’s when I got weary.

Jim! How’s your telekinesis going, good? Are you pushing pulling levitating shit all over? What? You’re not? Well, hell, this was a bust. Sorry. I have more, though, don’t you even worry.

This one’s not even weird and fake, Jim. This one is TRUE.

We can drive a CAR using our BRAINS.

Apparently, German engineers (those crafty German engineers! I assume Ken had something to do with this, I see “Germany” I immediately assume it’s Ken’s doing, I feel like he sneaks around Germany being crafty and then sneaking out before they know he was there) have rigged up a Passat so it works using the power of our BRAINS.


There is a lag, I guess, between your thought and the action of the car. But I guess if they implanted the sensors DIRECTLY into your brain, and not just in a weird headset-thingy, that lag wouldn’t happen.

Jim, what do you think? Want to get electrodes implanted in your brain so you can drive a car without using your hands? This is a very good use of our brains. And I think easier than hypermetabolization. Well, except for the brain surgery. I can’t imagine the brain surgery is all shits and giggles, you know? One time I watched a show about brain surgery and it went wrong and the patient couldn’t talk anymore. She talked all in gibberish but in her HEAD it made sense but it came out in GIBBERISH and that was how she was going to be FOREVER. I don’t know if I want car-driving brain-surgery if it makes me talk in gibberish forever, Jim. And I don’t think you should get this, either. Also, Passats aren’t even that cool of a car. Let’s not do this one, Jim. Not until they make it for convertibles or old-timey 50s cars or something cool like that.

Now let’s see what else we can do. OOH LOOK. We can BE MEAN TO CARROTS.

Apparently you can heal yourself using the power of your mind (I know people believe this, and that’s great, but I’m a doctor-advocate; give me pills and/or surgery over brain-power any day, I don’t know enough science to heal myself, good gravy) but with THIS you can PROVE the POWER of your MIND to HEAL yourself (and also carrots.)

You’re supposed to cut the tops off carrots, and also the green stuff, and put them in two dishes of water in the sun, and mark one with a PLUS SIGN and one with a MINUS SIGN and then say nice things to the plus-carrots and encourage them, and cuss out the bad carrots and send them all the bad vibes.

I guess what will happen is that the plus-carrots will grow and thrive and go to Harvard, and the minus-carrots will get negative self-esteem and probably make bad decisions and start smoking weed and have teen pregnancies.

I don’t know what I think about this, Jim. I think hypermetabolizing might be better than insulting carrots. Insulting carrots seems beneath us, somehow, don’t you agree? Those poor carrots. They didn’t do anything to deserve our scorn. Well, other than being carroty. I do so hate carrots. The other day I had a frozen meal, and it was utterly FILLED with carrots. GROSS. I didn’t eat a single one. I threw them ALL AWAY.

So what have we learned today, Jim? We have learned that we can:

  • move things with our mind, or maybe we can’t
  • drive cars with our mind using the power of brain surgery
  • insult carrots

These all seem more likely than the possibility of hypermetabolization. I hope I didn’t kill your dreams too much. I like you just that much and I hate to be all dream-crushy, I really do. After all, you are:

…and we can’t go hurting our people over here. That would be extremely poor form.

Let me know how these things go, ok? I have every faith in you and your magical brain.

Just stop insulting those carrots. THEY DID NOTHING WRONG.

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 15)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:  

September! Fall is in the air! The nights are nippy and the days are cooler and windier and leaves are all blowing around and I feel like I can finally breathe again! YAY FOR FALL! It is my favorite. Fall makes me want to wear sweatshirts and snuggle. Summer makes me sweaty and out of sorts. I get a huge energy boost in fall. I’m pretty sure I have the opposite of seasonal affective disorder. Or, maybe I have it, but it happens on a different cycle than everyone else. That isn’t overly surprising. I’ve always been a little backwards.

I have switched to my flannel pjs and have never been happier. HUGE HAPPY SIGH.

This month’s search terms were not as pervy as they have been in the past. Aw, you guys! Are you cleaning up your acts? That’s nice. I like that a lot! You’re getting all respectable-like! Buttoning-up! Going to church! Getting a station wagon and a picket fence! Wait, you’re really not doing all those things, are you? Because if you do all those things, your next step is that you’re going to stop reading my blog. People who do those things would never want to hang out here, I don’t think. Or maybe they would, I don’t know. I would think this place would for the most part make them feel filthy and confused, though.

If I had a white picket fence I have no doubt it would look like this. BROKEN!

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 fifteenth one. As you can tell from the title. Fifteen! It’s like these posts are a TEENAGER! An angsty TEENAGER! All slamming their doors and stomping off in a huff! Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? I’m a giver. I’m kind. I’m loving. STOP LAUGHING. I totally am. FINE, FINE. I do it for whatever reason I do anything. Good times, I suppose.

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups. Are you hoping you’ll be in the cool group? They’re all cool groups. Don’t sweat it. We’re all cool groups here at the ol’ Football.

Category the First: Aw, saddest!

“dr. sam beckett never returned home” – this is the last line (it’s a caption, actually) from the last episode of Quantum Leap. I BAWLED. I loved the hell out of that damn show. And if you watched the last episode, you know why this is so poignant – he had the chance to return home (well, at least the chance of a chance) and he gave it up to give his  best friend Al the life he deserved. Things about self-sacrifice and friendship SLAY me. And I was already invested in the show, so it kind of killed me. I just wept and wept. 

This, the last episode of “Six Feet Under,” and the Buffy episode “The Gift” – the three episodes of television that made me cry the most in my life. TRUE FACTS ABOUT AMY!

teenagers worried about being not pretty enough, not tall enough, not muscular enough, not skinny enough, not “perfect” enough – Aw, kiddos. School is the worst. I wish I had the words to fix this for you. I can tell you “it gets better” – it’s become so rote, but it’s the truth – but you don’t need to hear that again. Here’s what I will tell you: someday you’ll look back on the days when you felt these things and you’ll want to hug your younger-self. You probably aren’t going to laugh. Well, maybe you will if you’re well-adjusted. I’m told well-adjusted people laugh at these things. I do not. I still want to go back in time and give younger-me a pep-talk and kick those bullies asses from here to next Sunday. Or even the Sunday after that. You’re pretty enough, kids. You’re perfect just the way you are. And the people who are telling you otherwise are assholes who have some serious life-smackdowns waiting for them up ahead. It’s tough to do, but please start cultivating your honey badger don’t-give-a-shit attitude. These kids’ll be a blip in your radar in a few years and you’ll find your tribe and all will be well. I promise. You’re EVERYTHING-enough, teens. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Category the Second: GRAMMAR COUNTS, LIEBCHEN.

alot of planets
bear naked lady
headaches after eating duncan donuts 

A and lot ALWAYS NEED TO BE SEPARATED BY A SPACE. There is never, never, NEVER a situation where “alot” is a word. “Allot” is a word, but it’s not what you mean to say. If you mean many of something, you mean “a lot.” End of story. I see “alot” and I get immedia-stabby. Why do you think it’s all one word? Why why WHY?

A bear naked lady. Huh. This could go in a lot of ways. Is it a bear, and a nudist? Did the bear steal the lady’s clothing? OR DID YOU MISSPELL BARE? Quick lesson: “bear” is an animal, “bare” means stripped. You can remember it thusly: the word “are” is in “bare” – and you “are” bare. The word “ear” is in “bear”- and bears have ears. (Yes, yes, so do humans, but don’t overthink it.)

Duncan Donuts! Is he friends with Jimmy Hamburger and Josie Hotdog and Alex Cupcake? You DUNK your donuts. It’s DUNKIN’ Donuts. (Also, why are you getting headaches after eating donuts? I guess I have to ask, how many are you eating, and are you diabetic or something?) Duncan Donuts, by the way, always makes me think of my beloved Veronica Mars. There was a character named Duncan and his sister called him Donut. It always made me laugh.

He really was a donut. I hated this toolbag.

Category the Third: Curiouser and Curiouser 

“parc safari” drugged animals
analysis for poem, “old lady who swallowed the fly”?
animal pigs sex. mr bad
bear tree trampoline
create a bumper sticker of one of the tx state animal is a armadillo (4 people?)
doggystyle joke
funny amygdala jokes
i was teary. when i sieg heil and hurt my pinky. 

They don’t drug the animals at Parc Safari. Do they? Did you just ruin my childhood? You damn joysucker.

“The old lady who swallowed a fly” does not need analysis. It’s a children’s rhyme. It’s a jokey thing about a woman who swallows things that are too large for her to swallow. (THAT IS NOT A EUPHEMISM.) The Nephew loves it. It makes him laugh and laugh and his eyes get all big if you perform it correctly. “Correctly” means with many gestures and much facial expression. I like to act up for The Nephew. He reacts very well to my antics.

Animals pigs sex Mr. Bad? I don’t know what this means. It’s like word salad. Do you have a head injury? A filthy pervy head injury?

Bear tree trampoline! Hee! Bounce bounce bounce!

The Texas armadillo bumper sticker thing makes me giggle. Four people were looking for this! Four! I hope you somehow found your armadillo Texas bumper sticker. I feel like you really deserve it. I also hope it is shaped like Texas, because then it would be a Texas-shaped thing, and that would make Ken happy.

ZOMG LOOK WHAT I FOUND FOR YOU! I win internetting!!!

I don’ t know any jokes about doggystyle or the amygdala. Honestly, I don’t know that there’s anything innately funny about either of those things? What am I missing?

What is this odd sieg heil rhymey thing? Is it song lyrics? WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Category the Fourth: NO NO NO. Stop it.

caracal cat for sale albany new York
everything zak bagans  
kate winslet trollop        
tom cruise sexy kiss

You cannot HAVE a caracal. They are not PETS. They are wild ANIMALS. They will eat your FACE. Someone here in my town wants a caracal? You are not allowed. Get a cat. A REAL cat, not a wild ANIMAL. 


EVERYTHING Zak Bagans? Ugh, please just stop. He is the GROSSEST. He is GREASY and he is SMARMY and he is FAKE and he NEVER FINDS GHOSTS. Please stop now. You’re embarrassing yourself and, honestly, everyone else around you.

Kate Winslet is not a trollop! She saves lives and has many bon-vivanty adventures with Ken. I will punch you in the neck if you malign my Kate Winslet. She is WONDERFUL.

NOT A TROLLOP. You’re a trollop, you trollopy trollop. Shut up about my Kate.

There isn’t a single kiss that Tom Cruise has ever had, either on-screen or off, that has been sexy. He tends to either not pay attention or inhale people’s faces. I blame all that tooth-tooth-toothiness.

“Where are the cameras? Am I in my best light? Don’t move, Kate. DON’T MOVE I SAID. It’s in your CONTRACT not to move. STAND STILL WOMAN-HUMAN!”

Category the Fifth: Things that made me snort-laugh. 

all lovers are not fuckers but all fuckers are definately lovers
cartoon image of lucy stating i’m goin gto be cranky today
i want a good looking mule
if johnny has 2 apples and 1 orange what time does his train leave
i’m going to europe to see if i can ever just be whelmed
jerry jennings orange
kangaroos eating leafs
laughy laughy face face
my cats facebook
my mom says im a cat im popular
not now panda
please don’t kill me i’m Canadian
ron swanson tiny hat
singy mcgee
the naughtiness              

I like your little if/then statement. All lovers are not fuckers, but all fuckers are lovers. You should use that on an exam!* (*Do not use that on an exam.)

This Lucy is often cranky, and would like that image on a t-shirt, please.

I’m not going to think too deeply on why you might want a good-looking mule. I’m hoping just because you like pretty things. Yes, that’s what I hope. That, and only that.

Ooh! A math problem! If Johnny has two apples and one orange, what time does his train leave? The answer, of course, is “overcoat.”

You can totally be whelmed in Europe. So says 10 Things I Hate About You. I think I would be TOTALLY overwhelmed in Europe, however, and I’m pretty sure my head would explode from the awesomeness.

Jerry Jennings IS orange! It’s one of the claims-to-fame we’ve got going on around here. Albany’s got an orange mayor, who some people call “Mayor McCheese” because he is the color of processed cheese. “Mayor McCheese” makes my dad laugh and laugh every time I say it.

Strangely, he doesn’t photograph as orange as he is. He’s the one on the left, by the way. (And I actually don’t dislike the guy. He does a decent job. He’s just orange.)

“Leafs!” That makes me smile. I know it’s a misspelling but it’s ADORABLE.

I couldn’t find a kangaroo eating leaves that I liked so here’s a kangaroo eating grass with a quizzical look on his face. Aw!

“laughy laughy face face,” “the naughtiness,” and “singy mcgee” make me smile, too. We like such things around here.

Now that Dumbcat knows people are searching for “my cat’s facebook” he wants me to set him up one. I told him no. He’d just download a bunch of porn and get a virus on my laptop. He doesn’t have the best decision-making skills.

If your mom says you’re a cat and you’re popular, she’s not only quoting a song from my college years incorrectly, she’s calling you a CAT. Which is kind of awesome, if you think about it. I wish my mom called me a cat. I had a friend who called me a cat sometimes. We kind of lost touch. I miss him now and then.

NOT NOW PANDA! I am BUSY and you are ANNOYING me!

Come on, if not now, then when? Please? Please? I HAVE THIS STICK WE CAN PLAY WITH!

Please don’t kill the Canadians. They are very kind and intelligent.

Ron Swanson in a tiny hat is only the best thing to happen on television in just about ever. Nice search, my friend.


Category the Sixth: Multicultural fun!

soy un pays (“I am” in Spanish…”countries” in French? CROSS-CULTURAL!)
майкл джексон в детстве (Michael Jackson as a child in Russian!)
لبنى كمر 2010 (Lubna composting 2010 in Arabic – I don’t…huh.)

Yay, my foreign searchers are back! Welcome back, foreign searchers! I don’t know that I was able to help with any of these searches, though. I feel kind of terrible. I hope you were able to find some answers, my sassy friends from foreign climes!

Category the Seventh: What is…huh.

here i am with a broken heart here i am totally ashamed vim not defend or show me my reason but, lord, i’m here heal my heart what love is not the one that launches out what love is not me that ignores perfect love, true is the love of my lord hino gospel

This is very confusing. Is it a prayer? Is it a cry for help? Is it a crazy-person? It sounds like something Zuul would say, doesn’t it? What is “hino gospel?” What is “vim not defend?” Why did someone put this entire paragraph/run-on sentence into a search engine? By reposting this, did I just voodoo myself into being haunted by a Lovecraftian beastie? CONFUSED. And honestly a little scared.

Category the Eighth: Things that are fairly awesome.

endorphin molecule tattoos
game of thrones cartoon lucy pulling football from jon snow
girl pet raccoon eats face
pussycat innuendos
remove yourself from the presence of a bully
valedictorian speech example unicorn
van airbrushed wizard
very special episodes blossom list
wildschwein tattoo
wolf goat gremlin
you know what they say about bon vivants        

I think someone’s trying to give me ideas for my next tattoo. I don’t think it’ll be an endorphin molecule, or a wildschwein, but I think those are EXCELLENT suggestions and MOST kickass. Nicely-done! (It’s going to be words, in case you were wondering. Lines from a poem. I just haven’t 100% decided which poem yet, or where on my body it’s going.)

Here is endorphin. Even though this is pretty. I think I’d go with dopamine, personally.

Why is Lucy pulling the football from Jon Snow? That being said, I’d totally wear the shit out of that shirt.

EATING FACES! I love that I’m the go-to site when people have questions about wild animals eating your face off.

The innuendo question is for Ken. I’ll leave this here for him. He can handle this one. It’s kind of what he does.

Yes. Please remove yourself from the presence of a bully. Barring that, talk to me. I’ve got some coping mechanisms. Barring THAT, well, don’t rule out the fact I might show up and give that little asshole a smackdown. Bullies make me want to retaliate.

Is there going to be a unicorn in your valedictory speech? That is going to be an excellent speech. Congratulations!

Ooh, are you airbrushing a wizard on the side of your sweet custom van? NICE. You will be beating the ladies off with a STICK!* (*Don’t beat anyone with sticks, please. Only pinatas. You can beat pinatas with sticks.)

Here, I found this for you. You’re welcome.

Hee! Remember very special episodes of Blossom? They were my favorites. Someone was always dabbling with drugs or someone was always moving next door to a child molester or something. There were SO MANY of them. It got to the point where EVERY episode was special. And once everything’s special, nothing is, you know?

In this Very Special Episode of “Blossom,” Blossom learns the value of dressing like a 50-year-old spinster.

Wolf! Goat! Gremlin! ALL OF THOSE THINGS AT ONCE!!!

You know what they say about bon vivants. Wait, you do, don’t you? Know what they say? What’s that? You DON’T? Oh, well, what they say is that bon vivants are the most fun, and if you are lucky enough to know one (well, a good one, anyway) that bon vivant will take you vicariously along to places like London and Berlin and Texas and various places in between. Plus, bon vivants make every day an adventure, and somehow know just what to say to cheer you up when you need something and you didn’t even think you did. Because they are MAGICAL. And that is what they say about bon vivants. Or, at least, that’s what they say about ONE PARTICULAR BON VIVANT who is one of my favorite humans. Or so I hear. That’s the gossip going ’round the ol’ Football.

There we go! Our search terms for September! One of my most favorite months! Guess what next month is? MY MOST FAVORITE MONTH EVER EVER EVER!!! Thanks for the searches, my lost and gone forevers. I hope this helped.

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 14)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:  

Here we are in August. It’s been quite a month, hasn’t it? Lots has happened. Like I have a lot more free time than I did the last time I wrote one of these! But also a lot less money (considering I didn’t have that much to begin with, that’s a worrisome situation!) Also, since it’s August, that means the summer is almost over. Huzzah for that! I’m looking forward to fall with the crunchiness of leaves and the nippiness of the evenings and the slightly smoky smell in the air. I do so love the fall. Come on already, fall.

Aaah. Can’t wait.

We had some fun and odd and interesting search terms this month. As we do, here at the ol’ Football. I love you guys. You make me smile. I like to imagine you searching and popping up here and just having the most confuzzled little faces, all, “this is not…at all…not at all what I was…dammit, Google.”

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 fourteenth one. As you can tell from the title. I don’t think I’ve done anything fourteen times in my LIFE. I have the attention span of a GOLDFISH. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Aw, I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything? Shits and giggles? Sheer and utter boredom? Manic depression? Could be anything, jellybeans.

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups so this post, which is already super-duper long, doesn’t get longer and scare people off. Well, scare them off MORE. Like a monster in the closet. BOO!


Category the First: Um. Good Plan?

air conditioning wear turtleneck

Yes. That’s…that’s a good idea. You could do that. You could also wear a cardigan, or a warmer top, or a jacket. The possibilities are endless, my cold-blooded friend. As for why you felt the need to search for this on the internet…well, I can’t answer that for you as handily, unfortunately. Sorry about that.

I like pictures where people are inexplicably happy about things like sweaters. HA HA SWEATER!

Category the Second: The Internet is For Porn

“happy wednesday” sexy -hump naughty girl
america whores epidemic
boar bestiality stories
comparisons of meg ryan in the olympic logo giving a blow job
i had sex with a pig stories
vagina lollipop from spencer’s
you came and you gave me a baby

I like that “midgetporn” is all one word. That makes me laugh.


I’m pretty sure the Olympic logo was supposed to be Lisa Simpson giving head, not Meg Ryan, right?

I mean, I GUESS Meg Ryan…but it’s a lot more Lisa Simpson-esque to me.

Don’t have sex with pigs, weirdo. Ew.

What even…vagina lollipop? I don’t want to have to look that up. I have to, don’t I. For the love of…FINE. Ugh gross gross gross I NEED A BRAIN BLEACH RIGHT NOW INTERNET. I’m not putting a photo of that nonsense in here, no no no Charlie. 

I like that there’s some sort of wacky wordplay going on to the tune of “Mandy.” Heh.

Category the Third: Curiouser and Curiouser 

hypno forced sissy
i don’t wanna take advice from fools tattoo
transform to simple.he caught a rabbit which was fat
two addresses everyone knows

I don’t know what “hypno forced sissy” means. Are you forcing someone to BECOME a sissy? Or trying to stop them from being one? Or something more and MORE sinister? WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNNN?

Stop being WEAK ya damn SISSY. Look at the TWIRLING WHIRLYGIG.

This is not a good idea for a tattoo. If you need a reminder not to take advice from fools, write yourself a postit.

I feel like that’s part of a story, a little rabbity story. What’s the rest? Now I’m all curious.

What are two addresses everyone knows? I like riddles. I’d say your home address and the White House, but non-Americans don’t know the White House’s address. And homeless people don’t have an address so the first one would be moot. I don’t think there ARE two addresses everyone knows. Google’s not being helpful. Ideas, anyone?

Category the Fourth: Famous people are famous 

ben wyatt (3)
jeff goldblum (5)
joey greco (5)
benedict cumberbatch (9)
zak bagans (36)

In case you are confused, the number after these is the number of times people searched for these particular things. So, Ben Wyatt, 3 times. He’s losing traction, my little Ben Wyatt. Poor guy. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how adorable he was in his little Batman costume? Don’t worry. Parks and Recreation will be back soon.  

Treat! Yo! Self!

Jeff Goldblum! Ooh, Ken, this is very evil, now I’ve become a go-to search for all things Goldblummian. This is all bon-vivant related. I hope you’re prepared to use your assassin skills to protect the person who writes the Bon Vivant stories when Goldblum comes after her for breaking his nice-guy cover on the interwebs.

He’s onto us, Ken. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Look how suspicious he is!

Joey Greco is the host of Cheaters. I think I mentioned him once. You mention someone once, you become their web portal, apparently. (That is not a euphemism.)

And, as always, a gajillion people are a’searchin’ for Zak Bagans. This is never going to stop, is it? I’m going to be the Ghost Douche guru until the day I die. Sigh.

Category the Fifth: Things that made me snort-laugh. 

back to school unicorn
everyday single day is like whoa
foolishness of fuckery
gangsta song dun dun dun dun dunnnn dun dun ch not rock
girl on news that has a deformity that makes her look like an alien
guess what i wrote
i don’t like the look of your left eye it seems to have lost its googliness
liquid logic stingray
psychopaths love to go on road trips
purposely losing items to annoy me
sayings about fat unicorns
we are the best of friends we are like a little gang

I would like to see a back-to-school unicorn. I think it would wear a kicky sweaterset. Perhaps Maryjanes. A shiny new backpack. Oh, back to school unicorn, what a year you will have!

EVERY SINGLE DAY is like whoa. All of them. Just every one. I understand that. They truly are.

Fuckery is pretty foolish, but also sometimes awesome. Depends on how you’re doing it and who you’re doing it with, I suppose.

I LOVE how detailed that song lyric search is. I do a lot of song lyric searches myself? But I never put in the “dun dun dunnnn”s. I bet that’s why sometimes I can’t find the songs I like. GOOD TIP MY FRIEND.

There’s…there’s a girl on the news that has a deformity that makes her look like an alien? Do you mean like a news reporter, or someone that there was a news story about? Don’t make fun of people with birth defects. That’s rude. (Speaking of rude, my weatherlady has been wearing lower-cut tops and tighter dresses every DAY. It’s getting all KIDS of pervy all up over here.)

I’d like my newscasters to be aliens. That’d be all kinds of wacky.

I don’t know what you wrote. Are you going to tell me or keep me hanging?

“I don’t like the look of your left eye, it seems to have lost its googliness” makes me laugh SO HARD. In what situation is this sentence said? Because it is AWESOME. Also, you need to go see an ophthalmologist about this, loss of googliness is worrisome.

Liquid logic stingray. Huh. That sounds like a rave band, doesn’t it?

Psychopaths LOVE road trips. Because that gives them more places to dump the bodies. Also, they like road-snacks. True story!


Who’s purposely losing items to annoy you? I think that’s not happening. You’re making shit up. Some people just lose things, calm down, sunshine.

Sayings about fat unicorns. Hee! Um…yo unicorn so FAT, when he LIE AROUND THE HOUSE, he lie ALL THE WAY around the house!

Oh, we totally are the best of friends and like a little gang. What I like most about this is that we’re like a “little” gang. I like when the word “little” gets added places. It makes me smile.

Category the Sixth: Aw, are you buying me a gift? Silver, please, not gold. I look trashy in gold. 

a star saying “lucy rules” inside

Aw, I wish I hadn’t seen this! I’ve ruined the surprise. Wouldn’t this be so pretty? Thanks, anonymous gift-giver! I DO rule.

Category the Seventh: Animals! 

do sugar gliders laugh
guy petting a manatee with black guys face photoshopped on
people acting like seagulls

I don’t know if sugar gliders laugh. Probably not. They probably make adorable little sugar-glider noises. You can pretend they’re laughing if you want. I pretend Dumbcat’s talking to me all the time. I know he’s not, but I live alone, what the hell else am I supposed to do?

This glider kind of looks like he’s laughing. I don’t know if he IS, but he kind of looks like he is.

I…I don’t understand that second one. Why do you want this? This is just weird as weird can be, yo. I can’t imagine the need for something of this sort.

Also, I totally want to see people acting like seagulls. Would they flap their arms, or would they say “mine mine mine” like the seagulls in Finding Nemo? I’m hoping for the latter. I sure do like those seagulls. They’re my favorite.

Category the Eighth: JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM. 

wimpic olympics 

Jim! Aw, look, people came here looking for the Wimpics!

You can click on Jim’s link above to learn about the adorableness of the Wimpics. I highly encourage clicking on anything Jim-related. Jim’s the bomb, yo.

Category the Ninth: Upsetting things.

all hurtful names
being called a fat bitch
i dont like to be hurtful names by my friends 

So much hurtfulness going on this month! Cut that right out. Stop bothering my people right now. I’ll get smacky, seriously. I’m not sure why you want to know ALL hurtful names. Do you want to know if you’re being called them? Or do you want to call people them? If it’s the former, aw, babe. If it’s the latter, we don’t like bullies here, so cut it out. No one likes to be called a fat bitch, and no one likes being called hurtful names by their friends. Boo boo BOO for hurtfulness.

Category the Tenth: A whole section just for Ken. It’s Kentabulous. 

“twitter” “goldblum” “psychopathy” -jeff data
dew on head euphemism

Ooh, look, Ken! THREE SEARCH TERMS JUST FOR YOU! This is exciting. You’re always saying you want to play the search-term game. Now you can! Vicariously!

Someone’s looking for data on Jeff Goldblum. I’m going to hope this was you, Ken. And not Goldblum himself. I’m really getting worried about this situation. He’s totally coming for us. And since you’re farther away…I’m first. Gulp.

Someone wants to know what “dew on head” is a euphemism for. I…kind of have an idea, but it’s really naughty. So I’m going to just leave that one alone. Also, searcher, that’s a very bad euphemism. We have someone in CHARGE of euphemism here. You should give him someone better to work with, honestly. You’re wasting his talents.

And LOOK! GERMAN search terms! I gave you this one because you live there but I totally know that it means “little love.” See? I’m totally learning German, you can’t even say I’m not. Also, I’ve decided the day someone calls me “liebchen,” I’m going to marry that person. I know I come off all badass, but I’m a total sap. I’ll admit it. Because “liebchen” is ADORABLE.

All for you, Ken! Aren’t you so impressed? Thought so.

There we go! Our search terms for August! The last summer month of 2012! Very searchy, you all were. Hope that helped. Love all your faces. Keep on a’searchin’, I’ll keep on a’postin’.

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 of apology to London

Dear London:

Listen, I’m really sorry.

The other night, #MittShambles started trending on Twitter. I’m usually really out of it, news-wise, so I of course had to research what the latest Mitt-tastrophe was.

Guys! YOU GUYS! I gots me a street named after me, yo!

Oh, holy hell, London. I am so, so embarrassed. Seriously, I’m glad I don’t have to look any of you in the eye today, because I’d be as red as a beet.

Oh, so embarrassed.

Oh, wait, maybe some people are as out of it as I am, news-wise, and are wondering what went down. Because I love you, I’ll fill you in.

On Thursday, Mitt Romney (who will be running as the Republican Presidential candidate here in MERKA later this year) went to London. It was ostensibly as a fundraiser – there are a lot of rich American Republican businessmen living and working in London, and he was having a $75,000 a plate fundraiser for them (or, I guess, for himself) – but while there, he decided to show the Londoners what it would be like once he’s elected President, by doing some speechifying, and some interviews, and meeting with some fancy London bigwigs. Easy enough, right?

$75,000 a plate? Better come with a home, a hot man, and a European tour, buddy.

Oh, no, not at all easy. Not at ALL easy. Yikes.

Listen, I’m not great in front of people. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I often start running off at the mouth because my nerves get the better of me, and I say very stupid things that are not at all indicative of me as a person. I think a lot of people do that. It’s not just me. I’ve seen more than enough bad speeches to know I’m not the only one petrified in front of people saying stupid things. That said: the man is trying to be the leader of the United States. THE WHOLE UNITED STATES. OF MERKA. You kind of have to be good at speeching to lead the country.

In case you’re not aware, the Olympics are going on in London. Well, when Romney was there, they were about to begin. They were one day away. FURTHERMORE, in case you were ALSO not aware, Mitt Romney was the chief executive of the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics in 2002. So Romney, I guess, thought it was ok that he got all judgey-judgey about the way the London Olympics were being run and set up and such. You know. As you do. When you’re trying to make a good impression in a foreign country.

Bill. Aw, Bill. Remember the speeches he used to give? *swoon*

Shit, did I mention how embarrassed I am, London? Let me reiterate. I’m so embarrassed. So, so embarrassed.

So first, Romney started saying shit like the London Olympics might be in trouble because of security concerns, and that it was “hard to know just how well it will turn out.”

He also said there were “a few things that were disconcerting” about the Olympic preparations. “The stories about the private security firm not having enough people, supposed strike of immigration and customs officials, that obviously is not something which is encouraging.”

And then I just…kept talking? And talking. And talking some more.


(In news of the BURN!, David Cameron – he’s the Prime Minister, come on, you know this – said “We are holding an Olympic Games in one of the busiest, most active, bustling cities anywhere in the world. Of course it’s easier if you hold an Olympic Games in the middle of nowhere.” HA HA! Listen, the Brits are pretty polite. This is a TOTAL burn. This would be like if a MERKAN said “SUCK IT ROMNEY YOU PODUNK ASSMUNCH.” Only with more middle-fingering. And we’d probably shoot him in the face.)

Good one, Cameron!

Then Romney was all “oh, oh shit, did I do that?” and backpedaled with a sweeping “um um um any little boo-boos will be overshadowed by the extraordinary demonstrations of courage, character and determination by the athletes.” (Everything in that sentence up until “overshadowed” I made up. Also, that’s not an apology or even a backpedal. That’s a privileged kid who doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry who realized people are mad at him attempting to save face. And failing. Miserably.)

I kind of imagine it like this, only without the awesomeness of Fred Willard or “A Mighty Wind.”

In additional news of the “what the eff?” Romney also:

  • forgot the name of Ed Miliband, the leader of the Labour Party, and in order to save face, called him “Mr. Leader” (his name wasn’t like Muhammad Hosni El Sayed Mubarak or something. It was ED, for the love of Pete. You can’t remember Ed? You high or something, Romney?)

    It’s ED, Mr. Romney. ED. TWO EFFING LETTERS.

  • Met with the leaders of MI6, but obviously was SO STOKED that he got to sit at the cool kids table for two minutes and maybe also thought he was in maybe a James Bond movie that he TOLD EVERYONE. I wasn’t aware of this, but apparently MI6 is England’s Fight Club? And you all know the first rule of that, right? Shit, Romney. I’m pretty sure Goldfinger’s under your bed right now or something ready to suspend you over a tank full of sharks while he tells you about all of his evil plans and schemes, giving you time to escape, if you’re wise enough to use it. (Isn’t Goldfinger a James Bond badguy? The one with the scary grill? He is, right? I think I remember Dad making me watch that once. OH SHIT FINE I looked it up and his name was “Jaws” and he was from the movie The Spy Who Loved Me. I really dislike James Bond movies. They’re all the same to me.)


    Also, I guess there’s another secret service called MI5, and he also met with them, and one of Romney’s advisers spilled the beans about that, too. (I’m getting the feeling that a., maybe all these secret societies shouldn’t meet with any yahoo running for president of MERKA, and b., Romney and his people were totally narcs in high school. Or hall monitors or something. Something asshatty.)

  • He also said he was really looking forward to watching volleyball from the “backside” of Downing Street which made a lot of British people giggle because that totally means bum, you guys. BUM! (Also, who even uses backside in that sense? Weird. Unless it’s a rich person thing. Is it a rich person thing? I wouldn’t know. Romney would.)

    Here is the backside of a hedgehog. Hee! Backside!

  • One of his advisors said that Obama didn’t understand America and Europe’s shared “Anglo-Saxon heritage.” Some news outlets are saying that Romney himself said this; some are saying an advisor said it. Either way: RACIST, YO. Because Obama’s got African-American heritage, he can’t understand the troubles we seen, can’t understand our sorrow? Please excuse me while I laugh myself into a hernia.

Londoners were really, really disgusted with Romney.

OK, London? Listen. I’m so sorry. I want to make it very clear: MITT ROMNEY DOES NOT REPRESENT ALL OF US.

Mitt Romney is a bullying rich boy. (Seriously, if you take nothing serious from this entire post, click on that link and read it. And then share it with people who vote in America. Yeah, it’s a story for another blog, one closer to election, I’ll talk more about it then – but we’re one election away from this man being our president, my fellow Merkans. Someone who not only bullied gay teens in school, but someone upon whom it made NO IMPACT. He DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER DOING IT. He calls it “pranks and high jinks.”) Someone on Twitter the other day compared him to a middle-aged Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. I don’t know if there’s been a more apt comparison since he poked his Whac-a-Mole head out of the ground to try to be the next GREAT BIG LEADER OF MERKA.

Put your head back in your hole, Mole. We don’t need you here. We have a hammer in case you pop up again. Whack. Whack.

I’m so sorry he came to your lovely city in the middle of your lovely country and he shit all over you while you were preparing for this gigantic event that you’re probably all nervous about. I’m so sorry that some of you are all “you bloody Americans!” and all stompy-stomp and giving us dirty looks. I’m so, so sorry.

We’re really not all that backward and embarrassing. I promise. Gah, I’m just beyond embarrassed. HE DOES NOT SPEAK FOR ALL OF US.

I just found this a few minutes ago. Apparently, Romney’s not going to apologize. It’s all on me. (Did you all know about this?)


I have no idea how the election’s going to shake out. I really don’t. I’m petrified about it, to tell you the truth. Because I don’t want a gay-bashing, jingoistic, bullying, glad-handing rich boy running my country. Please don’t think I do, London. As much as all of you, I wish he’d never opened his mouth when he was across the pond; he makes all of us look bad.

I lived in London for 5 months in college. Your city was a city of wonder. There was always something to see and do and it was so bustling and so thriving and so beautiful and I wish I hadn’t been so homesick because I would have been able to appreciate it more. You have wonderful theater and actors and movies and art and architecture and history (and oh, oh, oh, how much do I miss being able to stop into the store and buy a Flake bar whenever I want one? SIGH) and I’d give my EYETEETH to go back and visit you again now that I’m wise enough to look at all you have to offer with my grown-up, much less eye-rolly…um…well, eyes, I guess.

I’m seriously drooling right now.

Please don’t judge us by our most asshatty denizens. We have such better people to offer.

Please accept my most abject apologies. If it helps at all, I am happy to come over. I would remember Mr. Miliband’s name, I would totally zip my lip about meeting with your secret agent men, I’d never mock your abilities to have the Olympics there (because, honestly, I don’t know anything about the Olympics) and I would totally never mention the ass-side of your buildings. I can be a lady when I need to be. Totally can. I think you’ll see I’d be an EXCELLENT ambassador of awesome. I’d leave and you’d be all “GO GO MERKA!” and it would be the best thing ever.

Send that plane ticket on over. I’d be happy to stay at a mid-range hotel. The chocolates on the pillow don’t have to be that fancy. I’d settle for a Flake bar.

And listen, London: I’m so sorry. Seriously. Here is black and white picture of Benedict Cumberbatch with facial hair. He is one of my favorite products of yours. Can you look at him and be mad at us? Can you really? I can’t. I look at him and my mad-feelings just melt away. Just meeeeellllltttt away.

With all the apologies in the world, plus a few more, and a very red face,

Love, Me.

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 13)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:  

Well! It is July. And in July, we have…um…heat. Lots of heat. And humidity. And then a little more heat and humidity. You know, in case you wanted that. In case you are wondering, I do not want that, and have been hibernating with icy drinks in front of the AC. Dumbcat doesn’t seem to understand it’s the hottest and wants to sit on me all the time, and that makes me overheat like a mofo, yo. He is HOT. Like a cat-shaped blanket of heat. Why do you not understand it’s hot out, you foolish fur-covered heater? 

This is not Dumbcat but looks a lot like him. Except for the tail. Also, this cat doesn’t look like he’s a billion degrees hot, and Dumbcat totally is.

Now, this past month has been kind of low, stats-wise. I think you’re all on vacation. Or probably you’re sick of me. Either way. That’s cool. According to a not-at-all-rude commenter, I TOTALLY TALK TOO MUCH ON THIS HERE BLOG THING. That’s fine. I like to talk. It’s what I do. Sorry I’m wasting your time, not-at-all-rude commenter. Your totally important time. That is probably worth money. CASH MONEY. Anyway, I’m not too worried about the low stats. People will come, Ray. And there will be baseball in the cornfield. And I can have a catch with my dead relatives. I’d like that.

It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh…people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.

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 thirteenth one. As you can tell from the title. Over a YEAR of these here thingamabobbers. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Because I hate cookouts, beaches, and all things MERKAN, and would rather spend all day in front of my laptop? Perhaps.

Go go Merka!

Our search terms this month were sparse. There were a lot of the same thing over and over, and a lot of kids wanting me to do their homework for them (not doing it this month, kids, do your summer school work yourselves) and that’s about it. It’s a sad month for searchers. Am I to understand you’ve all bucked U2 and you’ve totally found what you’re looking for? Well, THAT’S exciting.

I’m so glad you found what you’re looking for. But I miss your weird-ass searches, I’m not going to lie.

So ANYWAY, instead of addressing you all individually, which would take a month and then it’d be August and time for another one of these, and I don’t want to sit here for a month, buckaroos, I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups.  What? You don’t like that? Well, aren’t YOU picky. Like a toddler who doesn’t want to eat his root vegetables, you are. EAT ‘EM DAMMIT. I KNOW they’re gross. They’re GOOD for you.

All the roots. ALL.

Category the First: I TOLD you, Dad!

hooters owl eyes boobs


Yes! See, Dad? I told you that the owls in the Hooters logo were really boobie-euphemisms and that place is not really a family-friendly restaurant unless maybe you’re a nursing baby or maybe your family is a porn family or something. Even my SEARCHERS know it’s all about boobs. Sheesh.

Category the Second: The Internet is For Porn

alan rickman fake porn
hot grils sexs with animals and panda
sneekey fuckers porn

I don’t…”fake” porn? What would even be involved in such a thing? Like, he pretends to pretend to be a pizza delivery man or something? I’m not saying I wouldn’t watch Rickman get it on. I would. I totally would. But “fake” porn. Now I need to know what is involved in such a thing. Or maybe I don’t. Anything with porn in it usually makes me nervous. SHUT UP I’m a small town girl at heart. I can’t help it. The girl can stop going to church, but the girl still grew up a sheltered Catholic.

Rawr. Fake, real, don’t care what kind of porn it is.

Hee, “grils.” Get up offa ma gril, yo. Sex with BOTH animals AND panda. Because…pandas aren’t animals? They’re…a whole different breed? I don’t know.

“Sneekey” fuckers porn! I’m getting some awesome typos this month. I don’t think you need porn for the sneaky fuckers. They make their own porn, just with all the sneaky fuckery. But if you want to watch elk and frogs and such get it on…well, everyone’s got their kink, I suppose.

Category the Third: Curiouser and Curiouser 

“there are forces at work in my soul”
animal trying to kill himself
back seat of a town car ugly fat gay men

Ooh, if there are forces at work in your soul, that could totally be the worst. I can’t imagine that’s a very good thing. Unless – wait, are they GOOD forces? Like, forces of charity and kindness or something? That’d be ok. I like that this is in quotes. It probably means something DEEP and PROFOUND. But nothing I can find.

Do you want to WATCH an animal trying to kill himself? I think you might have forces at work in YOUR soul, my twisted and sick friend. Also, animals aren’t suicidal. OH WAIT. Except this pigeon last weekend? I was driving to the theater, and there were these pigeons in the road? And one flew away, and one didn’t? And I thought he would? So I kept driving, and he DIDN’T! He committed SUICIDE under my CAR! He turned me into his own personal Jack Kevorkian! There was just such a huge THUNK noise! Damn you, you despondent pigeon!

This bear is SAD, but I don’t think suicidal. At least I hope not. REACH OUT FOR HELP, BEAR! Don’t let it get too bad!

Hmm. This whole gay-men-in-a-car thing is VERY specific. It’s a TOWN car. The gay men are both ugly AND fat. They’re in the BACK seat. It’s like a little story! A somewhat-offensive little story! I’m not really sure of the goal of this search and/or story, but there it is!

Category the Fourth: Famous people are famous 

ben wyatt (4)
benedict cumberbatch (7)
zak bagans (20)

In case you are confused, the number after these is the number of times people searched for these particular things. So, Ben Wyatt, 4 times. I’m down with that. Ben’s a-ok with me. As is Adam Scott who plays him. I want to pop him in my pocket and bring him places. He’s so adorably wee. Benedict Cumberbatch: 7 times. Again: down with that. He’s lovely. (Although – listen, most of you want to know what football team he supports. You’ve been asking me that for MONTHS. I’ve TRIED to find that out for you. To no avail. He’s all state-secrets about his favorite football team. I’m sorry to let you down.) Finally – by far and away, Zak Bagans gets searched for more here than anywhere else. I haven’t even WATCHED The Ghost Douche in almost a YEAR. Dad and I were laughing about that when I went home last time, that we were so busy we didn’t get a chance to watch his terrible, terrible show on that trip and it’s become like a tradition: I go home, we do family stuff, we mock The Ghost Douche. Maybe you’d like to go elsewhere for your Ghost Douche information? Because I have none. Other than: he’s a douche. Who works with ghosts.

SIGH. Boyfriend.

Category the Fifth: Things that made me snort-laugh. 

“i don’t understand what’s going on”
50 shades of grey review tripped over an ottoman
fat motherfucking cats holy shit 
hot country men with beards
johnny don’t come home drunk sheet music
kevin costner revengey
mister what’s that big thing in your pants
tumblr discreet love making

I don’t understand what’s going on 99% of the time, either. So, I can’t 100% help you with that, but I’m glad you’re here. Let’s muddle through this shit together, shall we? Sure we shall.

Hee! Tripped over an OTTOMAN! Did I write that? Now I have to look, I write a lot and forget shit. Oh, yep, I totally did, I said if you made Ana’s “argh” sex noise, you probably aren’t so much in the throes of passion but you probably tripped over an ottoman instead. So the person who searched for this was actually in the RIGHT place for once! Impressive!

I seriously laughed so hard I almost died at “fat motherfucking cats holy shit.” It is VERY shocked! If you saw a room full of Dumbcats, you would say that. He’s a big boy. All chunky but also big-boned. I love him. He’s fluffy.

Here are some hot country men with beards.

Rawr AGAIN. Am I right? Wait, I’m not right? Oh. Sorry.

We have Mennonites living next door from my parents now. They are hard-working and plus their adorable children speak Dutch which I find charming but my dad gets all screamy about it and says “THIS IS MERKA! SPEAK MERKAN!” No, not TO them, just to me. If he said it to them, they wouldn’t understand him anyway. They don’t speak Merkan until they start school when they are 6. I found it adorable they were chattering away to each other in Dutch. I like other languages a great deal.

Holy hell “Johnny Don’t Come Home Drunk.” Is this a THING? Oh, yep. Yep, it is. Here! Here is a YouTube of people playing it! It’s actually called “Don’t Come Home Drunk, Johnny.”

It has no words. It’s a purely instrumental piece. I find this a wasted opportunity. Someone who is good at such things, write words for “Don’t Come Home Drunk, Johnny.” Please remember to rhyme “drunk” with “funk” and also “Johnny” with “hey nonny nonny.” Thanks so much.

 I only care about Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams, otherwise he’s useless to me, but the word “revengey” makes me happier than I can even say.

The answer to “what’s that big thing in your pants” is “it’s a restraining order.” You’re welcome.

Tumblr discreet love making. I don’t…huh. If it’s on Tumblr, is it discreet? Is it really? Also, the phrase lovemaking makes me stabby and reminds me of gold shag carpeting and rec rooms and key parties. Let’s get it onnnnnn, baby.

Category the Sixth: This is either pervy or awesome. What do you think? 

guest fucker

I’m not sure if this is referring to sneaky fuckery, or if this is referring to the time that I had a totally anonymous guest post about sneaky fuckery except the person who wrote it told me not to tell anyone he wrote it and then he told all of Twitter he wrote it, or if this is something MUCH pervier, like the searcher wants to have a houseguest service his wife. Either way, I like your style, searcher. Nice job. Gold stars right at the top of your paper.

Category the Seventh: YES. 

my sense of humor gets me in trouble
totally fucked off with life

My sense of humor DOES get me in trouble. All the TIME. People don’t know if I’m being sarcastic or not. I’m this guy. I’m totally this guy right here.

Man, I miss you, Kids in the Hall. I MISS YOU SO HARD.

I don’t know what “totally fucked off with life” means, but it really explains the mood I’ve been in the past week or so very well. I’m down with this statement, random searcher. I’m totally down with this.

Category the Eighth: I should probably be offended but mostly I’m just giggling. 

tired of all this shit humour 

Aw, I’m going to hope you’re HERE because everywhere ELSE is exhausting you, and I’m like a welcome change? Otherwise, I should totally be sadface. But mostly the wording of this is cracking me up. “I AM TIRED OF ALL THIS SHIT HUMOUR!” Also, I like “humour” with a “u.” It’s ultra-classy, yo.

Category the Ninth: JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM. 

hotsprings parasite 

Jim! People want to know about your parasites and your hot pottin’! JIM! Come be the Minister of Fly-nance and help these people out!

(Searcher, luckily, our Jim did NOT get a parasite in his brain, because otherwise he might be dead, and then I’d be all, “I’m missing…something…in my life, but what could it be? I do not know. BUT SOMETHING DOES NOT SEEM QUITE RIGHT.” And what would be missing would be my most amazing Minister of Fly-nance who makes me laugh until I sometimes cry a little bit.)

Category the Tenth: Sort of racist. 

handsome “white” actors

Um. Why’s white in quotes here? Can’t they just be HANDSOME actors? Have you not seen Denzel Washington or Taye Diggs or Dev Patel or Daniel Dae Kim or Naveen Andrews or a million billion other handsome actors who just happen not to be white? This is just weird. Isn’t handsome just plain old handsome, regardless of skin color? Odd.

Is he not hot? Because I’m pretty sure he is, even taken objectively. (I’d take him whatever way I could get him. Heh.)

Category the Eleventh: You might be doing it wrong. 

honey badger innuendo meaning
joke my wife ate rat poison 

I don’t know that honey badger’s an innuendo. It’s a VIDEO. About a HONEY BADGER. I mean, sometimes we say things like “honey badger don’t give a shit” when we’re pissed about something, but that’s not so much an innuendo as it is we’re taking a pop-culture reference and using it in our daily life. I don’t know that you know what innuendo means.

He just takes what he wants.

And and and and AND, um, there’s really nothing overly “jokey” about your wife eating rat poison. “HA HA! Honey, that wasn’t Chex Mix! It was Rough on Rats! Don’t worry dear, you’ll die outside!” No. Not humorous. Get a divorce, it’s a lot less likely to cause you to go to jail for life (if you’re lucky) or to walk The Green Mile (if you’re not.)

Category the Twelfth: FAMOUS!!! 

“sneaky fucker” bird
benedict cumberbatch lucy
sneaky fucker lucy’s football

Did we ever talk about birds being sneaky fuckers? It was a busy few weeks, I don’t remember. Either way: I am FAMOUS! Still! For sneaky fuckery! That makes me happy.

ZOMG. It is only a matter of time before Benedict Cumberbatch and I are falling into all the love. He’s going to realize our names are INEXORABLY LINKED and jet on over and be all, “Well! You are Lucy? I am Benedict. Let’s nip out for some delicious food products, shall we?” and then we will be a COUPLE.

Sneaky Fucker AND Lucy’s Football! We are like peas and carrots or chocolate and peanut butter. Same same same.

Category the Thirteenth: I am an international RESOURCE!!! 

biancaneve e i sette nani (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in Italian!)
bombero cumpleaños (firefighter birthday in Spanish!)
see you there меанинг (see you there “meaning” in Russian!)
старые ноты (old notes in Russian!)
черный тень сонный паралич (black shadow of sleep paralysis in Russian!)
โอลิมปิก 2012 (Olympics in Thai!)
i’m gonna miss you grappig (I’m gonna miss you “funny” in Dutch!)

Holy CRAP, you guys, look at all the foreign-language searches I got this month! Which made me so happy, because I got to search Google translate for them, and see what was going on! Look how pretty Russian and Thai are! 

I am VERY FAMOUS IN RUSSIA! Soon this will be my HOME.

I think my favorite is “black shadow of sleep paralysis.” It worries me that that terrifying shadow-man also happens in Russia. Gah.

Welcome, foreign searchers! I love people from other places. They are among some of my FAVORITE people. You are welcome here! I like your pretty languages and new words. I hope things are happy where you are and also that there are many dessert items!

Well, that’s that! Less searches, yet still lots of awesomeness. Keep it up, merry sunshines. Love your faces. Search away. I’ll be your safety net. I have a lot of holes in me, though (ew, not like THAT) so you might fall right through to the ground. I’m a shitty safety net.

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!)

%d bloggers like this: