It’s December – a fresh, new, sparkly clean month. And you know what that means! Let’s jump right in to analyzing the freaky searches that bring new visitors to our land of glitter and vaginas, shall we?
“snail jizz” Let’s start out gentle shall we? That’s what I thought when I saw this one. It’s the perfect balance of disturbing and amusing, right? Then I saw “a pitcher of a snail.” Of course in my mind both searches are from the same person, a criminally insane snail-o-phile who is really hoping to find an entire pitcher filled with snail jizz available for sale. That might even be grosser than a plate full of scallops. On second thought, nothing is grosser than a plate full of scallops. Also? I can’t help but wonder how many snails would have to gaze longingly at graphic pictures of snail sex to generate an entire pitcher full of snizz (Yes, I made up a new word. Heretofore snail jizz is snizz. Tell your friends.)
“i never sucked dictionary” New. Favorite. Line. Ever. Now I want to make t-shirts just so I can wear “I never sucked dictionary” on my boobs. Also because I like t-shirts. And dictionaries. And it’s true, I’ve never sucked one. Or a dictation machine. If my mother-in-law wasn’t visiting (and I had any sort of skills with graphics programs) I would totally whip out some brilliant and adorable “I never sucked dictionary” graphic. I wonder if that would fit on a kazoo. Also? I’d like to take this opportunity for a little PSA – should you ever be faced with the difficult decision of having to suck either a dictionary or a kazoo, you should choose the kazoo. Unless it’s a BugginWord kazoo. ‘Cause we all know where those have been.
“sticker lost in vagina” YOU sticker, you brought her. *sigh* Please oh please let this be a reference to the “inspected by” sticker that occasionally shows up in a pair new Fruit of the Looms instead of the results of a poorly thought out naked hike through a field full of spurs. *Looks at Wicked Shawn* Panties are your friend.
“yes we will be drinking sangria” Whoever you are, please come back. I’m pretty sure you’re my people. Or maybe you’re the me in a parallel universe. Does Google cater to multiple universes simultaneously or is there an alternate Google in each alternate universe? And if so, do they have alternate algorithms? Shit, does math change? Like, in an alternate universes does two plus two still equal four? What if they don’t even have twos? Or fours?!?! I really like fours! Does gravity work? Do they have Nutella? Is anyone else having heart palpitations? DO WE EVEN HAVE HEARTS IN ALTERNATE UNIVERSES!?!?!
“congenital absence of the vagina” HOLY CRAP. I consulted the ever-wise Google and that is a for cereal medical condition. This is the scariest search optimization-ish post I’ve ever written. Imagine not having anything to vajazzle. Let this be a lesson to each of us to never, ever take our vaginas for granted. Maybe this year you should take the time to buy an extra-special stocking stuffer for your favorite orifice.
“t-shirts ‘it’s all fun and games’ emergency room” Well you sort of took the wind right out of my “I never sucked dictionary” sail, now didn’t you? I’m picturing the accompanying graphic I think should go on that t-shirt and it includes a paper mache platypus, four trombones, a Hello Kitty Pez dispenser and a lime-green aluminum ladder. Can someone sketch that out for me? One post, and two brilliant t-shirt ideas! At this rate, I’m going to need a warehouse for my burgeoning new business. Also, I might need some actual t-shirts. And one of those cool adding machines that makes clickity printing noises when you press enter. And laundry safe glitter. And sangria. For my new best friend/me from another universe person.
“bug an office” It’s bug FOR office, people. How many times do we have to go over this? I’ll run on a platform of Bug-o-care, Bug-a-nomics and Bug-a-boos. Also, I’ll run wearing platforms. I’m full of the win.
“what is bugginwords uke’s name” Look at Herbert developing his own fan base! His head is swelling! Which is bad because now I can’t keep him in tune. And then I’ll have no choice but to abdicate my political position and appoint Herbert as my replacement. Then he’ll start embezzling money because that’s what all ukuleles in positions of power do. After he’s indicted, he’ll end up in some white collar, minimum security prison where the other inmates will covet his curvy, flowered body and harass him sexually. They’ll snap his strings and do unholy things to his tuning knobs. Is that what you want, Internet Searcher? Would that make you happy? Since you can’t have him, you don’t want anyone to enjoy his twangy goodness? Asshat.
Now I’m mad AND terrified. Congratulations Google.