An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 3)

Dear People Who Find my Blog Accidentally: 

Good morning and happy September! First, I’d like to thank you for really stepping it up this month. Last month, you had me down in the dumps. You seemed to be accidentally searching mainly for two things – Zak Bagans and Spencer Reid. As I am openly disdainful of one and in love with the other, these were, I suppose, common routes to get here accidentally, if not a little sad and/or wrong. They were not very interesting, however. They did not make me laugh with glee when reading my stats. 

Me after reading last month's stats. SAD EFFING PANDA.

This month, though, oh, you people! You win. You totally win. I have no idea what kind of nitrous oxide you’ve been sucking before doing your various Google searches that brought you here, but I LOVE YOU SO HARD RIGHT NOW. 

But you totally need my help. Because you are completely lost. Some of you are looking for answers to existential questions; some of you are pervy; some of you have intelligent searches that need to be addressed; some of you need help with your grammar. I CAN TOTALLY HELP WITH ALL OF THESE THINGS. I live to serve. I am the most helpful! It has been proven time and again. Although yesterday the office copier broke and I didn’t help with that. It’s very touchy. It’s a special snowflake and if you walk too heavy-footed past it tray three jams. You have to really be on top of your game to deal with that copier. I just wasn’t. But TODAY! Today I am. So here we go! Solving the world’s problems, one search term at a time. 

To the person who came here by searching for Hyperbole and a Half Letters Volume 2: 

I don’t know whether to be flattered or to apologize. Both, I guess. Listen, Allie over at Hyperbole and a Half is amazeballs. I’m pretty sure when you accidentally got to Lucy’s Football you were all whaaaa? and noooo and ughhhhh. And you’d be right to be that way, if you were to compare our two blogs. Because if you were to compare the two of us, she’d win. By a landslide. I’m cool with that. I mean, Allie created Clean All the Things. How the hell can I compete with Clean All the Things? I can’t. And I’m not even going to try, really. So, person, I am sorry to have let you down so completely and utterly. But sometimes I talk about whores. Whores are fun, right? I mean, you could come by accident, but stay for the whores. No? FINE. 

To the pervs who came here because they thought there would be free porn: 

There’s not. But I’m pretty sure you realized that when you got here and were totally depressed about the fact that the perviest I get is discussing Halloween costumes and doctors of lady-bits. It does not discourage you, though! Not you, pervs! You want to know about whores that have been ridden hard and put away wet, you want to know about scrappy porn, you want to know about the naughty limerick “There once was a girl from Nantucket,” and you want to know about “sandy sex” slang. Well! These are all things, sadly enough, that I have covered here at one point or another. I do feel like when you got here, you were not expecting my neurotic ramblings, however. Pervs, listen. I feel for you, I do. (NO, NOT “FEEL” YOU CUT THAT OUT.) It must be a hard life, no pun intended, being a perv. All day, you walk around pretending to be a normal member of society; but inside, you are a dirty perv, just dying to search for internet porn or jack off in the adult room of the local video store so that the college kid now doing the job I used to have has to clean up your used tissues. Well, perv, I am sorry about that, I truly am. Also, now I am worried that “sandy sex” is a thing. And that is distressing because I was being facetious when I mentioned it in the context of that horrendous pina colada song. WHY DO PERVS MAKE EVERYTHING A THING. Also, it’s HORSES NOT WHORES. We SOLVED THAT. 

To the people who got here still searching for everything related to Zak Bagans:

Zak Bagans people, I’m sorry to have let you down yet again this month. As we’ve discussed, I don’t know much about or even like Zak Bagans. And I found out today that Joel McHale calls him “The Ghost Douche” on The Soup, and that made me do a happy chair dance. But I do have to hand it to you: your search terms were truly inspired this time around. I will, for you, attempt to answer them; you obviously need them answered, and I am a champion Googler. 

Did Zak Bagans wear adult diapers?  

No, but he did mention in one transcript I found online that one investigation was so scary that he SHOULD have worn them. But as we all know, they never find anything, ever, on Ghost Adventures. So probably he’s just incontinent. Steroids'll do that to a bro.

Ghost adventures zak flex 

I don’t even have to Google this. Zak flexes CONSTANTLY. He’s in a constant state of flex. For the ladies. It’s all for the ladies. Oh, and maybe for the ghosts. 

Ghost Adventures episode where Zak Bagans leaves Florida 

This one is confusing. Is he always in Florida? Is it so exciting and total news when he leaves the state? Is he not allowed to leave the state for legal purposes? Google couldn’t even help me with this one. I don’t know what you’re referring to. I’m so sorry. I can’t help. Here’s a photo of Zak being a douchecicle with a giant pig as a consolation prize.

To the people who got here searching for things that are relationship-related: 

Oh, sweeties, I am so sorry and want to give you big old hugs. First, because you came here, and I know NOTHING about relationships, other than other people have them and they seem good; and second, because you seem so sad! And so searchy! And that I was not in the least bit helpful.  

To the “am I ok with not getting married” person: I can’t answer that for you, but the sheer fact that you went on Google to ask it makes me think you might need some therapy. Google can’t tell you that. Are you? Are you ok with it? If you’re not, then get married. If you are, then stay single. But here’s the thing – if you have doubts? DON’T GET MARRIED. Marriage is not a disposable Starbucks cup that you can toss at the next rest stop, no matter how many people think it is. It’s a serious commitment. I know divorce is just this easy as pie thing now, but we could cut down on the embarrassing divorce rate if we just stopped the “eh, marriage, sure, whatever” thing. 

To the “I love you but” person: Aw, are you looking for advice in telling someone this, or in having been told this? If it’s in telling someone this, just be nice, and to the point, and shut the door completely, please, because if the person is at all delusional and you say something like “maybe someday” they will hang every hope and dream on that and wait and wait and WAIT for that someday to occur and that’s just mean. I’m still waiting for a boy from high school to marry me who told me that I would be his second wife someday. He’s still married to the first one, as far as I know, seeing as how I haven’t spoken to him since 1992, but HE PROMISED SO I’M WAITING. If you were told this: they love you BUT. You don’t need that shit. Someone will love you DESPITE. Someone will love you AND. Screw the BUT. (Hee hee that totally sounded like something the pervs would search for!) 

To the “breakup letter all your fault” person: again, if you’re here because you are writing one of these, same rules apply. Don’t be a dick, short and sweet, no ambiguity. If you’re receiving one – well, if the person says it’s all your fault, that’s a dick move, no? And they wrote it in a letter? What is this, Jane Austen times? Was it sealed with wax, too? If the person said in the letter it’s all their fault – take it as it’s meant. They don’t want to be with you. It’s their fault. It’s their issue. Move on. 

To the number of people who keep searching for the term “football people that fouse”: 

WHAT THE HELL IS A FOUSE. 

Urban dictionary has three definitions, none of which have anything to do with football. It says it can be an alternate term for fiancé (“football people that fiancé?” nope) or a man or woman with many skills that is very attractive and the term is not used with an article (so in that sense it is a noun; doesn’t work. Also, what a funny new word. Is anyone using this?) or a person you consider to be lame or stupid (which is completely the OPPOSITE of the other definition, slang has gotten very stupid. And also a noun. This doesn’t work in the sentence, either.) I guess that last one is the closest to working, but I don’t dig it. And this keeps happening! Fouse is a thing? Do you mean to say house? Because I got a couple of house-related searches – someone wanted pictures of people at a house football party, for what nefarious reason, I could not say, and someone searched for “all the people in the house” which could mean a lot of things so I don’t think I’ll think too hard about it or my brain might explode. ARE THERE ANY YOUNG PEOPLE READING THIS THAT CAN SHED LIGHT ON THIS FOUSEIAN MYSTERY FOR ME.

To the people who are searching things that are totally complimentary to me and I love you so much: 

How to survive fast zombies

Greatness is being thrust upon you now

Scott Disick why is his face so shiny

Julia Campbell eyes 

These are all things that make me smile, and are awesome, and I have covered to some extent, and I am happy to be remembered for and/or help you with. 

You cannot survive fast zombies DON’T EVEN TRY. 

I asked my dad, who is an expert on all things Kardashian, about why Scott Disick’s face is so shiny and his answer was “that guy is a LOSER.” Sorry. That doesn’t explain the shininess very well. But neither does Google, so I guess it’s a better answer than no answer at all. 

Julia Campell’s eyes are as crazy as that goat in the Saturday Night Live Brian Fellowes Safari Planet sketch, but not as crazy as Michele Bachmann’s. 

And yes, greatness IS being thrust upon me now. I KNOW. I am TOTALLY GREAT. THANK YOU. I tell myself that every day, when I psych myself up in the mirror, serial-killer style, before going to work. I AM THE GREATEST. 

To the person who got here with one of the worst-spelled search terms in the history of ever but I still loved it the most: 

“hay your that chic” 

I’m not very chic. And hay, as my dearly departed grandmother used to tell me when I would get excited about something, is for horses, not for young ladies. I covered there/their/they’re the other day, but have not yet covered the your/you’re problem. Your belongs to you; you’re is you are. 

But yes, thank you. I AM TOTALLY THAT CHICK. 

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches. 

Love, Me. 

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts! Oh, if only you knew at the time what that conversation would bring about…)