The internet is a magical place. As long as you forget about the countless cyber bullies and trolls, disgusting atrocities hiding on the dark web, and hordes of people yammering on and on about politics that are impossible to avoid until you finally decide to take a screwdriver to your face and pop your eyeballs out. (Which is what I’m close to doing.) If you create a personal bubble on the internet and you’re successful in avoiding all the weird shit, it is an amazing place to be, though. Until your safe space gets penetrated by seriously weird search terms like mine does.
I will say, one of my favorite things about blogging is the search terms that people use to find my blog. I have zero idea why some of these led here, but they make me laugh, (and a little uncomfortable) so I’m going to share them today. These are the five strangest ones I’ve had over the last six months:
i got poop on my balls
have you ever seen something and busted out laughing? (The real question is…. who hasn’t?)
do sheep have vaginas?
I’ve got no words, guys. You are some strange motherfuckers.
Then, last night I was on Google looking at Adwords. (You know, the program where you pay Google to advertise your stuff for you.) I was filling out the forms to see what type of prices they had, then I saw this and was deeply offended. (The quality of this photo sucks. Sorry.)
The first suggestion for me to advertise my blog under is poop. POOP. Seriously, do I talk about poop often enough that Google thinks I should pay hundreds of dollars to get people who are searching for poop come around here? Is that what Google really thinks of me? I don’t know if I should be hurt or flattered. Damn it, Google. That’s strike two.
I have a tendency to Google things that I shouldn’t and scaring the shit out myself. You know, like when you have a headache and runny nose, and instead of blaming it on the common cold, you get ballsy and look it up only to be told you’re suddenly having a stroke, massive bowel blockage, and you’re two skips and a jump away from keeling over and landing face first into your morning bowl of Cheerios. If you don’t use Google as a health consultant already, don’t start. You’re treading into dangerous territory. Just say no.
Here in North Carolina, I feel like my house has been under siege from hordes of bugs. Even after an exterminator came by, and after the hundred+ I’ve killed, (or I’ve told my husband to kill as I scream in bloody terror, rocking back forth on the couch in the fetal position in tears,) they don’t stop! It’s insanity. So, I thought I’d take to Google to figure out what type of bug was trying to become my new roommate and… lover. (I mean, I did wake up in bed with one on my lip the other day… so I’m only assuming it wants to be.)
It’s simply called a ‘house centipede.’ Okay. That’s fine… at least they are common and not coming around because of my terrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win, right? My cats are entertained for hours playing with them when they’re bored, so it’s a bit of a win in my book.
Then I scrolled through Google pictures and found this:
House centipedes can GET. THIS. BIG. And in some places in Asia people keep them as pets. A pet. Like the cuddly dog you curl up on the couch with at night to share your ice cream cone with. (Can you imagine the creepy crawling sensation when this monster walks across your neck? I’m gagging.) There is absolutely nothing okay with this. Nothing. It’s safe to say I will never be stepping on the Asian continent.
Just say no to Google. Some things are better left unknown.
I only started this blog at the end of September, so my ‘year in review’ is, well… pretty damn dismal. (Actually, WP never even sent me one. Screw those monkeys for leaving me out. It’s middle school all over again.) The best thing about my stats since I’ve started blogging is -by far- the search terms people have used and landed on my site.
Let’s take a look at a few of these gems:
“i married a man that farts all the time”
“woke up to my dog humping my head”
“my husband is mean when he takes cold medicine”
“will Petco neuter my rat?”
I’m speechless, guys. No words. What’s worse — the deranged things people search for, or the fact the results link to my blog. Either way, it’s insanity.
Thanks for hanging out in 2015, friends. Thanks for sticking by when I talk about some pretty inappropriate things, drop too many swears, and get a little pun-heavy. Stay safe tonight, and don’t forget to wear your diaper.
How many times have you plugged your medical symptoms into Google in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on with your body? If you haven’t ever done this, for the love of god, don’t start. Unless you think it’s fun to read the numerous ways you might die by the time dinner rolls around. You sick fuck. Just leave it to the professionals, guys. Google is a rude bitch who will try to convince naive teenage girls they can pregnant from gobbling the turkey. (I’ve actually seen girls think this — what the hell, parents? Talk to your kids.) It’s shady and you don’t want to trust it with easing your paranoia.
Speaking of turkey — today is Thanksgiving prep day. For the past few years, I’ve been in charge of the same foods: stuffing, mashed potatoes, and apple crisp. This time around, my mother-in-law basically begged me to not make the stuffing. She told me, with a forced smile, that she bought the ingredients to make stuffing weeks ago. Apparently mine has been so bad in the past she had to plan a month in advance. What the hell? Thanks, Karen. That didn’t sting like a bitch or anything.
Have fun cooking today, y’all. Hope everyone who is traveling is doing so safely. To all non-Americans who are going about their day like every other Wednesday: happy humping. (It is hump day, after all. Get to it.)