Whenever someone writes about the nutty search queries that have led people to their blog, I can't resist delving into my Site Meter records and seeing what my random readers are hoping to find here. Today, it was tootsie roll's guest post at Bored Housewife that provided that temptation. I really don't know why four people searched for bloody heads, and why they uselessly clicked on the link for Orange Tangerine in their pursuit of bloody head–related information. And several orthographically impaired individuals searched for swimwere. Yes, I made fun of a motel swimming pool sign with a misspelling, but no, I have no further details pertaining to "swimwere." Swimwerewolf? Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Swimwererabbit?
Here are some other lively ones. Try not to think about them too much:
am kingdom hairy
brazilian wax codeine
end a sentence with me
i built up my butt but it shrank again
intellectual boredom
love bulge
menopausal farting
mister rogers flip the bird
morning call thinking about cremation
nipples turned orange
orange snot sinus
organic milk zits
poo averages
rate my spooge
small orange balls discharge after ejaculation
some sad depressing horrifying poems
what does it mean if my poo is orange
what's the largest pencil?
why don't guys have butts?
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16 comments:
I love "morning call thinking about cremation" -- sounds like the beginning of a poem.
Mine is currently filled with queries on snot and/or phlegm. Slightly better than the sicko doctor-patient fantasy ones, but I still don't like to look before lunch. My current favorite is "cold sweat cheese why?"
I agree, not a good idea to think too hard about them, or you start to feel suspicious of everyone you see -- "Is HE thinking about orange balls discharge too?"
I REALLY want to know what those "small orange balls discharge after ejaculation" are!
You know what I think? I think there's a guy with small orange balls, and he's troubled more by the discharge after ejaculation than by the fact that his balls are small and orange. DoctorMama, what do you know about this condition?
Q: "What does it mean that my poo is orange?"
A: It means that your poo is smart.
But these are very very important questions.
I've wondered these same things for years.
At one stage if you typed "I swallowed petrol" into google, it would suggest my site first, out of 90,000 possibilities.
And it's then that I learned... if you're going to be famous ... don't let it be for stupidity.
My brain had wrapped (or warped?) its way around menopausal farting until I got to the small orange balls ejaculating.
Have you rated anyone's spooge lately?
This whole G-spot thing is going to be the death of me; as if I didn't have enough blogs and shit to distract me online as it was. *snort*
Yesterday, I found this in my search queries: "markos moulitsas gay"
<glee>
It's such a lazy way to summon up a post, this culling of search queries. But dammit, I love it so...
Is there a way to do it without sitemeter? I am trying my best to avoid sitemeter, because I know I'd be a slave to the numbers. In fact the idea of the charts and graphs makes me shiver a little. Not good.
And now I've had to google half the items on your list out of 'intellectual boredom.' Apparently Mr. Rogers did not really flip the bird. And he wasn't a sniper in Vietnam.
Come to the dark side, Mignon. You know you want it. I couldn't even live with the free version of Site Meter. I upgraded to the $6.95/month version just so I could get detailed information on Google referrals. But I spend a lot less time looking at Site Meter these days, honest. And you know what? It's not just charts and graphs and lists. There are also maps. You just got a little gooshy, didn't you, Mignon?
Oh, guys have butts. Guys have butts... Some guys even have asses. But oftentimes they hide them under baggy pants. My own husband tries to hide his fine ass thus, but I always find it.
It's a strange coincidence, but I have been hoping lately that Orange would post some sad depressing horrifying poems on this blog. There just aren't enough sad depressing horrifying poems out there. Some, but not enough.
Maybe there's a bloody heads/clockwork orange connection?
Or maybe your past is just catching up with you. ;-)
I think you could turn your word searches into a sad depressing horrifying poem.
oh, great.
I'm having a hard enough time dating at 47 and now I've got to worry about orange balls after ejaculation too? And do you think the guy would have the decency to tell me beforehand or wear a condom unless I rant about it? I doubt it. And spooge? I don't even want to think about it....
Nancy Dancehall, you are my muse (you and Orange's search terms). And here is my poem.
Some Sad Depressing Horrifying Poem
End a sentence with me, rate
my spooge but please don’t
ask about my menopausal farting.
I was in the hairy kingdom until
my brazilian wax with codeine.
I built up my butt but it shrank again.
I received a morning call while thinking
about cremation and my nipples turned
orange with intellectual boredom.
When Mister Rogers flipped the bird at my love
bulge, my small orange balls discharged. After
ejaculation, I no longer cared about organic
milk zits, poo averages , and orange snot
sinus. Still, I wondered: What does it mean
if my poo is orange? Why don't guys have butts?
What's the largest pencil?
Brilliant, brilliant! I love the first line.
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