It’s May. A new month. One that will be sadly devoid of tequila for me, but a new month none the less. Which of course means it’s time to learn more about all the sick little monkeys trolling the internet that occasionally stumble into my little BugginWorld. And as usual, I’m scratching my head like a chimpanzee with dandruff.
“mini ponies sneezing glitter” Yes please! I wonder if mini pony sneezes are as cute as cat sneezes. Mildred has never sneezed glitter. Yet. Would it be wrong to mix a little saucer of catnip and glitter and leave it unattended but in visual range of my video camera? Has a cat ever suffered health problems as a result of glitter inhalation?
“rod stewart bathing suit” I just threw up in my mouth. You should be ashamed of yourself. Especially because I’m picturing that Borat/John Mayer neon green swimsuit thing.
“giant hemorrhoid images” Really? You’re seeking that out? On purpose? This has to be some sort of weird fetish thing, right? Wait, this was a Moooooog search, wasn’t it?
“i want paula deen to hold me like a baby” Now this is DEFINITELY a weird fetish thing. I mean, there are lots of things I’d like to do with Paula Deen – party, cook, lob sticks of butter off of highway overpasses onto motorcycle gangs – but I don’t want her to hold me like a baby. Especially since I just read this article and I’m still totally disturbed. But to the person that searched for “paula deen butter is everything bitch?” Let’s cuddle.
“bad ass hamsters” is there a “good” ass hamster? Like is there a particular breed that fur-ballers prefer? Great. Now I’m picturing Richard Gere in one of those neon green swimsuits, too.
“dares of things to put in your vagina” Well you sound about seventeen kind of special. I think I’d like to dare you to put an IUD up there. That sounds like a win win for you, me, and society.
“is it ok to have blood samples in my fridge” Blood samples? No. You don’t want your friends and family to know you’re THAT obsessed with Edward Cullen, do you? Now pee samples on the other hand? Hells yes! Preferably in large, orange, unlabeled containers. And if you can fit said container inside a larger, empty box of Franzia, even better.
“do giraffes need special care?” The miniature ones definitely do. You have to polish their tiny monocles at least twice a week. And they won’t use their tiny treadmills if you don’t spray them down with lavender. And lord knows, there is nothing sadder than a miniature giraffe with no muscle tone.
“what do arm buds do” Well dear reader, I’m fairly certain they grow into tentacles with talons at the ends that enable parasites to shred the host body’s lady bits as it bursts forth into the hospital and commences world domination by strangling all medical professionals in the room. That or they work like ear buds. Assuming the parasite listens with it’s arms. One of those two things. Probably.
Conveniently it’s Cinco de Mayo since you’re probably going to need a liter of tequila to get those images out of your head. Say, are you done with that margarita? Could I possibly suck on one of those salt-flavored ice cubs slowly melting in the bottom of your otherwise empty glass? Gosh you’re a peach, Interwebz.
Wait. Is it badass hamster or bad asshamster?
Cause there’s a difference. Right?
And why do I always want to add a P to the word hamster?
Don’t ask me. I p on everything.
That’s just silly. There’s no such thing as a giant, and even if there were, what’s his motivation for letting someone take that kind of picture?
Maybe his relationship with Jack wasn’t portrayed correctly in that fairy tale…
Arm buds = limbs that are good friends.
Rod Stewart bathing sutis = I’d rather have intestinal parasites.
You = Adorable.
I dunno. You might win the most adorable award after that friendly limbs comment, cutie.
Hmm…I wonder what baby pygmy hippos sneeze. Man I hope it’s Nutella!
That’s disgusting. And fantastic. And somewhat appetizing. All at once.
Dares of things to put in your vagina is the game someone talked me into playing right before I got pregnant.
I don’t learn as quick as I should.
I don’t think I’m falling for that again.
“Dares of things to put in your vagina”
I knew it was only a matter of time before LiLo found your blog.
Aw man! Now I’m never gonna get these stains out.
note to self: do not drink elly’s franzia. scarf her unused tequila instead.
My tequila is your tequila.
Oh My. I needed to read this as I sat here fighting drowsiness and staring out at my rain-soaked front yard with it’s knee high grass.
All I can ask though is do you think bad ass hamsters cause giant hemorrhoids?
I need a margarita. I’ll save you the lime.
All sources (as in search engines) point to yes.
Dares of things to put in your vagina…oh, please let them take your advice!
I want Paula Dean to hold my butter like a baby while I polish my glitter-sneezing giraffe that’s knitting a Rod Stewart bathing suit with its arm buds.
Your search terms plus my spam comments that say, “I WANT TO DIE IN MY SLEEP LIKE MY GRANDPA,” mean something.
Winners, or winning-est winners?
Obviously your spam commentor’s grandpa was Richard Gere’s hamster. Why no, I didn’t sleep well last night. Why do you ask?
Between the Richard Gere ass hamster reminder and the giant baby-man you may have scarred me for life. Or at least for the rest of the evening. One can only hope the constant stream of margaritas may alleviate some of the visuals.
Are different quality ass hamsters? Bad. Good. Mediocre? Are there ones more suited for other orifices? I’m pretty sure a quick call to Dick Gere could get it sorted.
And foiled once more by international video blockades. Or is that saved? Do I really want to watch a grown man crap himself? I have a feeling there’s not enough mind bleach in the world to erase that image.
Ice cubes on the way. Some assembly may be required upon receipt.
Like a good nostril hamster?
I always check those things on my blog and they are the. most. boring. things. ever. If I wrote a post about them, people with blood samples in their fridge would throw them at me and bad ass hamsters would ride their mini-motorcycles over my face.
No! Not the face! I called dibs on that already!
On a semi-related note (vaginas and all that), I knew a girl in high school that masturbated with a hairbrush. Not the handle part either.
I don’t know if it was a dare or not, but whenever something reminds of that, I consider going to google to find out if it’s a more *snicker* widespread practice or if she was just really, um, unique.
I am so jealous. The best hit I can claim is “slutty blog”.
“And lord knows, there is nothing sadder than a miniature giraffe with no muscle tone.”
I just found your blog via a roundabout route, and this line makes me want to propose to you. And since I refuse percolate more children (turns out 8 isn’t enough; two is), and you’re already knocked-up, I can look forward to that 3rd kid I always wanted. Thanks!
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