Tag Archives: search terms

Dear Abby

Between you and me, I would love to have a job that required me to write a humor and/or advice column every week, kind of like Carrie Bradshaw minus the fashion sense, sexual escapades and nicotine addiction.

dearabby

However, no one seems to want to pay me a salary — or anything at all — to do this because life is unfair and TV lies.

But I’m not giving up on the dream to offer unsolicited advice, and thanks to weirdos who Google strange things that lead to my blog, I can pretend that I’m the next generation of “Dear Abby.”

Along with random search terms such as “sugar-coated bullshit,” “rabid badger with a banana clip,” “somebody just sneezed in the living room and it was grandpa” and “I thought it was you but it was the wine,” I also get some questions in my spam folder that obviously need to be answered.

How do you tell if old people are addicted to bingo?

For your own safety—and that of geriatric gamers—it is very important to look for the signs of this affliction. Luckily, I have experience that I can share.

As I’ve stated before, these people have been through wars, marriages, children, Depressions and depressions. Now they no longer worry about recessions as much as they do if Gertrude next door stole the extra Nutter Butter from their snack tray.

My point? They’ve got nothing to lose and they play for keeps. Or rather, they play for candy, which along with popcorn is the geriatric equivalent of crack.

Signs of addiction include hoarding the Bingo chips/cards that have no inherent value, distracting opponents by faking physical ailments like “my oxygen tube is kinked!” sabotaging fellow players’ lucky charms—creepy Troll dolls, figurines, a favorite snot rag, etc. and mumbling things in what they claim to be “Binglish.”

Does sticking feathers up your butt make you a chicken?

First of all, you get points for the “Fight Club” reference, but those points are immediately deducted for taking this quote literally. In a metaphorical sense, it means that you shouldn’t try so hard to be something that you’re not. Not only is it a lot of work, you’ll probably look incredibly stupid in the process.

But in case you’re a freak, I’ll address the literal sense and say that sticking feathers up your butt will result in you looking like a pornographic peacock, not a chicken. If that’s how you roll, more power to you, but perhaps you should pick up a book now and then.

If I were a turkey, where would I be?

My guess would probably be that you would be on a farm, glad you’re not a chicken in the presence of the person who asked the question up above.

Is it bad if you go through a car wash with Vanilla Ice?

Interesting. I would say that if Ice offers to take you through a car wash, you shouldn’t turn down the offer. The car wash isn’t cheap unless you go through the $5 Happy Hour special, at which point I would ask Ice to also take you out for a drink and to include that footage in whatever low-ratings reality show he is gearing up to debut. Be sure to drop in my name.

Have the squirrels found you yet? You should run.

Do you know something I don’t? Crap. Perhaps I should take your advice.

Until next time, my friends!

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A Retrospective Ramble

I realize that there are about four people on the Internet this week and even fewer people reading blogs, but I’m posting this week anyway.

I liken it to singing alone in the car in that I do it because I want to and not for an audience other than the car that pulls up next to me and sees me busting out Eminem like only a skinny Polish girl in an Equinox can do.

Anyway, I figured I would do one more holiday-centric post before getting back to “normal” posts.

I’m not one for “Year in Review” recaps, as mine would most likely just be a list of things I ate and several self-inflicted injuries with basic household objects. Granted there have been good things and bad I could reflect upon while gazing at my navel, but nobody cares about that.

Instead I was thinking it might be kind of fun to look back at what post got the most comments each month this past year and do a “Top 12 in 2012” post.

As you can see, that would have been a great idea if the year had been 2012. Needless to say, 2014 will not be the year that I attend my first Mensa meeting. It was a solid concept though, so I’m going with it anyway.

Below you will find the post that got the most comments each month (minus giveaway posts.) Some surprised me in that the more “serious” ones get more love, but then again, you people are frugal with feedback and I  have no idea what you like.

However, I forgive you because small random acts of kindness make me feel like a better person.

So even though they’re not my “best” posts or even close to my favorites, here are the ones with the most comments:

And just for craps and cackles, here are some of the top search terms that led people to my blog in just this past month:

  • Apparently the only thing I’m good at is getting totes confused
  • Crazy naked squirrels wearing thongs
  • Ho ho ho seriously she works that mistletoe like a pro
  • One-piece pajamas for women who don’t have big boobs
  • Pictures of elderly people in wheelchairs having a sock hop at nursing facility
  • Melissa Rivers looks like Steven Tyler
  • Do you like my gnome babushka?
  • Nail salon waxed off all of my eyebrows
  • Why do old people wear banana clips
  • Your lizard looks a little limp
  • I put the word bitch in my GPS and ended up in your driveway

And I’m the one who has issues?

At any rate, I thank you for reading my rambles and invite you to subscribe and continue to join me for the next 365 days—or until I run out of things to say, which could be much sooner than that or an excruciatingly longer period of time more than that.

It’s really anyone’s guess.

But upcoming posts include my Olympic dreams, a vacuum and an inconvenient truth–not all at the same time.

Here’s to 2014.

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Spring Word Search

This isn’t a “real” post.

Well, technically it is considering that I wrote words and published it here, but the “real” post will come on Tuesday, so be prepared for mild amusement and/or disappointment and the winner of my giveaway.

Yes, the giveaway!

The real reason for this post that isn’t really a post is to remind you to 1) read my last post 2) humor me by possibly buying the book and 3) leave a comment so you can be entered to win the Amazon gift card.

With your “to-do” clearly established, I will also add that I wrote this post that isn’t really a post is to 4) thank everyone who HAS read, shared and commented on my last post and 5) welcome all the new followers as a result of those shares and a magical alignment of the stars.

Because I’m saving a “real” post for Tuesday—good lord, I better make sure I have a post done by Tuesday—I thought today would be a good time to do another “Word Search” post.

For the uninitiated, I get some very random and often humorous search terms that lead to my blog. Sometimes I can tell what post led them here, but sometimes I’m confused and a little bit disturbed.

For example, I’m not sure what it means that “emotional constipation” has shown up on the list more than once, but I don’t feel like that’s very favorable for me. Actually, it’s not very favorable for whoever is Googling “emotional constipation.” They really should start up a blog.

Anyway, I present the latest Word Search installment (with my notes in parenthesis.)

  • I’ve got on my big girl panties, bitch bra and shitkicker boots
  • I wish it were socially acceptable to hibernate (whoever Googled this—we should be friends)
  • Fine, whatever. I’ll just date myself.
  • I love stickers and raccoons hunting with pellet guns (who doesn’t?)
  • Peegret—when you wish you would have gone to the bathroom before you left
  • I have to be naked when I drive
  • Banana clips or Polish babushkas? (Forget the meaning of life. This is the important stuff, people.)
  • Woman cites “He hit ‘reply all’” as reason for insanity. Judge accepts plea.
  • Vanilla Ice in a thong
  • Traveling gnomes using the squatty potty and avocado cutters (at the same time?)
  • I wrote “bitch” in my GPS and it lead me to your driveway (I saw you pull in and dove behind the couch)
  • My grandma is totes cray-cray (probably because you use the words “totes” and “cray-cray,” which technically aren’t even real words)
  • My dog calms down after I put a dress on her (please send pictures)
  • I would exercise but it makes me spill my drink
  • I like putting on a show for the neighbor lady with my tater tots (let’s assume tater tots is NOT a euphemism for anything else, shall we?)
  • Boy squirrel glued in a French maid dress cleaning the house (is this a thing? I would totally sign up for that.)
  • I’ll be your dork

I will be your dork for as long as you guys will put up with me. And if you’ve put up with me all the way to the end of this post that isn’t really a post, I will remind you again to enter the giveaway and then come back next time when one person will be announced the winner and everyone else will be disappointed and probably never visit again.

But for now, enjoy your weekend. Unless you’re the person who Googled “I want to nurture Martha Stewart and help her with her bra wedgie.”

In that case, you’re on your own.

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Winter Wonder Word Search

Hello dear friends and readers!

I hope you had a lovely Christmas, Festivus, Hanukkah, Kwanza or regular old week in your worlds. Mine was lovely and very low-key and involved a “Too Cute” marathon on Animal Planet at my mom’s and a “No Reservations” marathon at home.

I asked for an electric can opener that I received, so that was exciting and another avenue in which I can probably maim myself in the kitchen. My mom cried at the donation to Muttville and new humidifier I got her and we did our annual holiday dance of, “You did too much” and “Just shut up and say thank you without being such a witch.”

It’s tradition.

Anyway, because most of you are still out celebrating while others of us are back at work—but mostly because I really have nothing else funny to say—I figured it was a good time to share another “Word Search” post in these parts.

To the uninitiated, I get some very random, often humorous yet disturbing search terms that lead to my blog. Sometimes I can tell which post might have led them there, but sometimes I’m completely confused.

For example, I’m not sure what it means that “midget goat porn” has shown up in the list, but I assume it’s not favorable for me. Actually, it’s not very favorable for whoever is Googling “midget goat porn.”

But without further ado, let’s begin (my notes in the parenthesis.)

Walking in a Winter Wonder Word Search

  • Gordon Ramsay yells at a girl about mashed potatoes that can kill you
  • Foods found in the freezer “sextion”
  • I’m stuck inside a snow globe with a gnome
  • Which one of my personalities offends you?
  • I’d rather sit in my bed without a bra on (Who wouldn’t?)
  • Skinny squirrel as an Elvis impersonator
  • I am Sylvia Plath in a thong
  • Homemade pellet gun traps for unicorns (Creative hobby, I suppose)
  • Look at that bitch eating her crackers
  • I find peace when I’m confused (I am a very peaceful person)
  • I’m allergic to stupidity so I break out in sarcasm
  • Good grammar is hot
  • Melissa Rivers looks like Steven Tyler (So, so true)
  • Hamsters using nunchucks (This needs to be a reality show)
  • I would exercise but it makes me spill my drink
  • Epileptic cardio machine (a very unfortunate typo on their part)
  • Jump into a taxi and yell “Mascara is evil!”
  • Squirrels at dentist’s office in race cars (Again, I need to see this)
  • At Christmas we sit around a dead tree and eat things out of an old sock
  • My pet raccoon has sneezing spells. What’s wrong with him?
  • The popcorn you make in your pants (ironically found under the search term, “things to be grateful for”)

Although I’ve never made popcorn in my pants and am pretty confident I never will, I am grateful for this blog and all of my readers who have become my friends—even weirdos who arrived here by Googling “Polish banana clips.”

Now it’s back to work and then opening every can in my house with my new electric can opener, giving thanks the creepy “Elf on a Shelf” is gone for a year and prying the cat off the ceiling after hiding the “Xtreme Catnip” Santa Paws brought.

‘Tis the season, my friends!

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Dear Abby

Hello faithful readers!

In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, my name is Abby. This lends itself to people pointing out that writing “Dear Abby” reminds them of the once-popular advice column founded in the 1950s by Abigail Van Buren.

This picture doesn’t relate to this post, but it says “Abby” on my sweater.

I am not Abigail Van Buren—or an Abigail, for that matter—but I do like to dispense helpful advice to anyone who is brave enough to ask. However, in a shocking turn of events, a) no one has offered me my own syndicated column and b) no one has really come out and asked me for advice.

Perhaps I’m an intimidating figure, what with the tens of fans that I have, so I’m just going to go ahead and assume that the search terms that lead to my blog are actually anonymous questions from troubled souls looking for guidance from me.

Once I added a question mark to the end of these terms, it became clear that there are quite a few pressing matters to attend to! However, we’ll start with this one, as it appears it could be time-sensitive. 

Dear Abby

Q: Need to bury pet rabbit. How long does rigor mortis last?

A: I believe you’re actually wondering how long it takes to set in, as although I’m no doctor, I think it lasts forever. Either way, you stumbled upon my blog through that search for good reason. I can speak to this particular situation with personal experience (about the rabbit and not rigor mortis of my own, although as I get older I feel like I’m dead.)

When I was but a wee little Abby with issues, I had a pet bunny named Mitten, cleverly named for the white mitten on his black foot. One day I was at a friend’s house and distinctly remember that we made mini personalized pizzas in a janky E-Z Bake Oven.

Upon my return home I was informed that sometime between my departure and the pizzas, poor little Mitten had died.

While I was told it was of “natural causes,” it was later revealed that my dad—an unsavory character I don’t often speak of—had in fact cleaned Mitten’s cage with a mystery ingredient just hours before Mitten’s demise.

These were pre-CSI days, and I still harbor a wealth of suspicion.

But to answer your question—not about whether my dad was a Mitten murder, but rather about rigor mortis — the little rabbit’s legs were sticking straight out by the time we tried to put him in the shoebox/coffin, and this was only a couple hours past his “alleged” peaceful passing.

What followed was slightly traumatic, but necessary, as a proper burial was of course, a must.

So we cut holes in the end of the box, wrapped his body in a towel down to his little bunny thighs and shoved his stiff-ass legs through the holes.

After what I would like to recall as a rousing eulogy and chorus of “Circle of Life,” poor Mitten was laid to rest in the pet cemetery, gone but not forgotten.

According to the search terms there are many more questions I could touch on today—“is an ass crack sexual harassment” and “drunk nun book club,” for example— but I feel that’s enough for right now. I don’t want to overwhelm you with knowledge.

But if you, my dear readers, have a situation of your own in which you seek counsel — whether it’s serious or seriously funny — feel free to shoot me a note.

I’m just here to help, after all.

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A Dozen Delusions

It’s very important to be honest, but we all have those little things we tell ourselves that we know probably aren’t completely accurate. I hesitate to call them “lies,” as that implies some sort of deliberate manipulation, so perhaps calling them “delusions of grandeur” would be a bit more accurate.

With that said, I have included short list of the things I tell myself without entirely believing.

A Dozen Delusions

1. I don’t need to write something down because I’ll remember it. Despite the fact I don’t have solid evidence to back this one up, I continue to employ this philosophy. So mental note—real notes work better.

2. Pushing the pedestrian crossing button at crosswalks actually makes the light change quicker. Is it magic that the little white person on the light appears 10-20 seconds after I push it or simply coincidence? I also tell my self I won’t actually say “Ped Xing”— as in “ped exing” and not “pedestrian crossing”— out loud, but I do.

pedestrian_crossing_sign_l

Why doesn’t he have any feet?

3. That I’ll be able to put a key on a key ring in less then 10 minutes. I don’t believe this is humanly possible without the use of heavy machinery, yet I still wrestle with the damn things each time.

4. When going to Target, I tell myself I only need one or two things and to act in a civilized manner. Yet a few minutes into my jaunt I more closely resemble a skinny Tasmanian devil who forgot to write down what she needs—see point No. 1—and walks out with a bag full of “prizes.”

5. That I can discreetly manipulate two grocery carts that are stuck together, after which point I will be rewarded with a perfectly functional cart for my shopping. However, 99.99 percent of the time, I end up going Hulk on the metal pieces of shit, violently ripping them apart and being left with one that has a wonky wheel that veers into displays.

6. That faking my own death is an overly dramatic reaction to being asked to attend a webinar or fold laundry.

7. When my phone cuts out, I tell myself to wait a few minutes and let the other person call back. However, I get impatient and am the best at playing the “let’s keep calling each other at the same time so it goes straight to voicemail” game. Solution? Avoid the phone.

8. That turning up the radio in my Blazer so I can’t hear any weird noise that it’s making means there’s nothing wrong with my Blazer.

9. Because I feed the squirrels and birds in my yard, I would like to believe they respect me as a neurotic Dr. Doolittle of sorts. But with each acorn that lands on my head by the feeder and each bird gang bang performed in the bird bath, this mutual respect is called into question.

10. That if SpongeBob Squarepants–a freaking sponge–can find pants that fit, I can find a pair of “real” pants that aren’t uncomfortable. Actually, I don’t think I believe this myself anymore and should probably remove it from the list. Let’s move on—in workout pants.

11. I clean my floors simply to keep things nice and not because I inevitably drop food every day. Also, that I can stand next to the toaster, anticipating toast, and not jump every time the toast is popped up.

12. That the fact people found my blog with “snowman in a thong and sombrero,” “elderly squirrel Fight Club” and “mosquito boobs”—that one stings— is cancelled out by whoever found it with “Please. Like you’ve never Febreezed grandma.”

Your turn. What delusions of grandeur can you share with the class?

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Love Letters

We’ve all had those days when every piece of mail or email you open is a bill or reminds you that people are nothing if relentlessly tedious.

When those things happen, I know there’s always one place I can go to feel loved, to feel respected and cherished by those who might stop by my blog—the SPAM folder.

Or, as I prefer to call it, my Love Letter Vault.

comments

Sure, “HotSkillz97”  might not feel comfortable enough to comment using his real name, but I figure it’s more of a shyness issue and rather endearing, no?

Anyway, who couldn’t be happy when they open that folder and read a few comments like these (despite the cringe-worthy errors, printed as sent to maintain authenticity):

  • You’ve encouraged, Doug. Appreciative for the type words and phrases.
  • Fascinating publish. Thank you for making my day.
  • I have not a clue precisely what your existing about and I don’t agree with you at all. However hello! Anyway I am sincere! (It should be noted that this was left on my “About” post, of which they disagree.)
  • Really get pleasure from exposing it. It looks a lot like your present audience will far more than probably like much a lot more excellent articles.
  • Your jot down can be a superb kind of that.
  • Excellent goods from you, man. I have understand your stuff previous to and you are just too fantastic. You make entertainment and you still take care of to keep it smart.
  • You are my aspiration. I have few blogs and very sporadically run out from to brand.
  • Terrific paintings! This is the kind of info that are supposed to be shared around the web. Shame on Google for not positioning this submit upper! Come on over and seek advice from my vacuum! (I have to admit. This is a tempting offer.)
  • Fascinating goods, my lord! Within the outstanding words and phrases of a specific terminator…Illinois be back!

I can only imagine that some of these comments are left by the people who found my blog by searching with one of these terms:

  • Jack LaLanne’s crotch
  • How to tell my mom I need a bra (never had this problem…sigh)
  • Do squirrels use febreze in their trees
  • Avocados and parrot porn
  • Why do some senior citizens feel the need to be naked
  • Michael Phelps wearing plastic panties and a banana clip
  • Melissa Rivers looks like Steven Tyler (spot-on, by the way)
  • Can you get food poisoning from old ketchup packets (my grandma would say “no”)
  • Woman insists husband go commando
  • Picture of raccoon with a pair of panties
  • I’m not anti-social, I’m anti-stupid
  • Squirrel drag queens are handy things to have in your car

And finally, “Soon, my friend, it’s cocktail hour.” Yes, yes it is. I’m thinking that we should ask Doug from above. Maybe he’ll be encouraged to pick up the tab?

At any rate, within the outstanding words and phrases of a specific terminator…Illinois be back!

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