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…)

Bedside Manner? WHO NEEDS IT. It is for SUCKERS.

You know, I read a lot of blogs, and some of them talk about important things, like politics, or human rights, or intelligent reviews of things. And I could do that. I could totally do that.

But instead, I bring you: 

A FOLLOWUP VISIT WITH DR. LADY-BUSINESS 

As some of you might remember (except I did send the men away that day, and I’m warning you right now, men who are not into these things, you might want to go do manly things right now. And men that are perverts, you should stop reading just because ew), last month I had a couple of visits with Dr. Lady-Business. I escaped with my parts intact, so I considered that a win. 

In order to not have Dr. Lady-Business remove my internal organs, he prescribed pills which made me into a total and utter insane person who cried over things like OMG I AM OUT OF ICE CREAM SANDWICHES and I THINK THE SUMMER IS ENDING. Those symptoms passed, eventually, so I thought I was in the clear. 

I was so not in the clear. 

Two weeks ago apparently I had a very bad reaction to the pills which I will not detail. Suffice it to say I would not wish this reaction on my worst enemy. (OK, that’s a lie. And you know me too well for me to get away with that. You know I totally would. I hate my worst enemy and if this happened to her she’d deserve it, and more, because of the bitchy over-the-top things she did to me. But I digress.)  

I called Dr. Lady-Business’s office after a few days of thinking I was pretty much on death’s door. Now, you’re wondering, aren’t you, why I wouldn’t call sooner? Because I am pretty stoic about things. I mean, yes, I bitch and moan and think I’m dying, but that’s all a front, really. I usually don’t even bother going to the doctor for things. So for me to call the doctor about something means something is very, very wrong. 

My conversation with Dr. Lady-Business’s office: 

Me: I need to make an appointment with Dr. Lady-Business as soon as possible, please. I think I might be dying. I’m having a reaction to the medication he prescribed.

Nurse: He’s out of town.

Me: Um. OK. I can see someone else, then. I just need to be seen.

Nurse: No. You need to see Dr. Lady-Business.

Me: I don’t think this can wait. Did I mention the dying? That I might be doing?

Nurse: Yes.

Me: Hmm. OK. Thought you might not have heard me or something. I don’t think this can wait. When is he coming back from his trip?

Nurse: A week from now. I’m sure it’s nothing.

Me: What is?

Nurse: Whatever’s wrong with you.

Me: Oh, I can assure you it is.

Nurse: These pills have severe side effects. We have people calling about them all the time.

Me: What? I – no one even told me this. Why wouldn’t someone tell me this?

Nurse: I’ve said too much. You’ll really have to wait for your appointment. With Dr. Lady-Business. And only Dr. Lady-Business. On Monday.

Me: So, what if I die in the meantime?

Nurse: You won’t. Also, if you get better, please call and cancel the appointment. There are people who actually need the slot. 

Well! This was a reassuring and not-at-all rude conversation with someone you can tell TOTALLY CARES ABOUT MY IMPENDING DOOM. So I waited, and waited, and waited. And then, on Saturday morning, I started to feel better. I thought about cancelling the appointment, but I wanted to have a discussion with Dr. Lady-Business. I felt like maybe we needed to talk about some things. Like: 

Since these pills are something you expect me to take on a regular basis, will they cause these side effects regularly?

and

Am I totally dying? 

And since I have an astronomically high co-pay with my piss-poor insurance, it’s not like he wouldn’t be well-paid for his five minute conversation with me. 

I showed up yesterday and first, the parking lot is very, very small. There were two spots left. A woman pulled into one right in front of me. No, I take that back. She pulled into one and a HALF. Leaving me a half-spot. For my full-sized car. I began to back out of the parking lot, because it’s very small and you can’t turn around, and she got out of the car and started air-traffic-controlling me into the spot. I shook my head no and she started FURIOUSLY WAVING ME IN. Also, she was massively pregnant. Well, listen. I am pleased you are gestating. But I will park on the side of the road and walk to the clinic, and you just take up your 1.5 spots, lady. You are aware that even though you’re 1.5 people at the moment you don’t get 1.5 spots, or to make 1.5 decisions as to where other people park, right? 

I went in, and the nurse called me back almost immediately. Nice! Running like clockwork! Until: 

Nurse: So you’ll be seeing Dr. Lady-Business’s Colleague today.

Me: Well, on the phone the nurse told me I had to see Dr. Lady-Business.

Nurse: No. Dr. Colleague.

Me: I don’t mind, it’s just that last week? I was dying? And you told me I had to wait until this week to see Dr. Lady-Business, and only Dr. Lady-Business. So I find this all very confusing.

Nurse: GO BACK INTO THE WAITING ROOM. 

Then, after a lengthy wait, because I obviously screwed up their scheduling, I was shown back to Dr. Lady-Business’s exam room. My favorite nurse was there. She’s the only one in the office I like, because she is covered in tattoos and has a hair color not found in nature and hipster glasses. I feel like she doesn’t belong there. I enjoy her. Lydia the Tattooed Nurse told me to wait and that Dr. Lady-Business was showing around a medical student (still? It’s been over two months since my first appointment, does that med student live there?) and would I mind him watching? Since I wasn’t going to be all spread-eagled for this visit, I didn’t mind. I believe that children are our future! And that they need to learn about side effects of medication! 

Dr. Lady-Business came in, followed by the YOUNGEST MED STUDENT I’VE EVER SEEN. Seriously, Doogie. Doogie was watching my consultation. It was so off-putting I can’t even tell you. He looked like he couldn’t be more than 20. But probably he was at least 26, right? Something like that? That made me feel ancient. Poor little Doogie. He looked uncomfortable. 

Dr. Lady-Business’s office has recently upgraded to laptops for their records, and Dr. Lady-Business does not enjoy the digital age. His manner of dealing with the laptop is to bang on it, chimpanzee-style, with a loosely-clenched fist, while asking me, THE PATIENT, why it’s not working. (Once, the answer was, “I think you have to have it turned on, but I could be wrong.”) This went on for a while, and then he asked me why I was there. Here, in all its glory, is the best consultation between a doctor and patient that might have ever happened, ever. 

Me: I had severe side effects to the medication you prescribed; I wanted to discuss them. (I explained them here. I’m not going to rehash this. I guarantee you, you’re better for not knowing.)

Dr. Lady-Business: Yes.

Me: So I guess I’m wondering, first off, are these going to keep happening? On a recurring basis?

D L-B: Probably not.

Me: Probably not. Can you elaborate?

D L-B: I didn’t tell you about these side effects because the odds of them happening this severely were very slim. I would think that each month they would be less severe, until they are not severe at all.

Me: OK, so I should or should not keep taking the same exact dosage of pills that almost killed me earlier in the month? 

(Dr. Lady-Business then began grunting and smacking around his computer keyboard. I heard a muffled noise behind me; it was Doogie. Doogie attempting not to laugh. I feel really bad for Doogie. Although he is really learning what NOT to do when he goes into practice, I suppose.) 

D L-B: Yes. Keep taking them. Until December. We’ll revisit the situation in December.

Me: Okaaay….

D L-B: Did you notice any changes in mood while taking the pills?

Me: Good GOD yes. I cried over ICE CREAM SANDWICHES. And CELL PHONE COMMERCIALS. And I thought, well! I lost my mind! Until I thought to read Wikipedia.

D L-B: We really don’t recommend getting medical information online.

Me: No, you know what? I don’t recommend it, either. I recommend getting it from my doctor. Except, oh, you know what? HE DIDN’T GIVE ME ANYTHING OTHER THAN A PRESCRIPTION AND A FARE-THEE-WELL.

D L-B: Sometimes these pills cause mood swings. That might get better. It might not. It depends on the individual’s mental stability.

(muffled laugh from Doogie)

Me: I am going to pretend you didn’t just imply that I brought a bag of crazy to the table and move on in the conversation.

D L-B: Also we probably need to deal with these tumors.

Me: WHAT?

D L-B: You have tumors, right?

Me: Not that I am aware of, no.

D L-B: I don’t know if I’m looking at your chart or not. Do you think I have your chart up?

Me: I really have no way of knowing that. I’d hope so, though. Since I’m the patient you’re seeing at the moment.

D L-B: (poking laptop) Oh, yes, this is you. Yes. Tumors.

Me: So, was anyone going to call me with these test results?

D L-B: They’re not serious tumors. We don’t think, anyway.

Me: I think you’re kind of discounting my tumors.

D L-B: We’ll look more into them in December.

Me: Unless I die first because they’re the super-fast-moving death type of tumors.

D L-B: Odds are in your favor that they’re not. 

And – I am totally not even kidding? THAT WAS THE END OF THE APPOINTMENT. I hope Dr. Lady-Business signed Doogie’s permission slip so he won’t get counted as absent from kindergarten. 

On the way home, the strip club right around the corner from my office (it’s actually in a really classy part of town, so the strip club’s a little out-of-place) had a big sign up that said “We will never forget 9/11” and that was really the best thing I’d seen all day. Usually, that sign advertises coming attractions, like “Performing in October, Cherries Jubilee and Pussy Galore!” So this made the strip club both patriotic AND classy and I’m sure their clientele is richer for it. 

What did we learn from this appointment? 

I NEED A NEW LADY-BUSINESS DOCTOR. 

And that strippers love America.

This is why we can't have nice things.

OK, even though it was very clearly stated NOT to take the personality test, two people asked me if they could take it. (Well, not so much “asked” as said “let’s take this and make her grade it!”) As they are both lovely people (but obviously cannot follow directions like the ones that stated don’t take this, it isn’t a real test) I agreed that I would accept and grade their answers. However, I gave them the caveat that I could not guarantee that their very, very scientific personality analysis would not end up on my blog. And as I am not a person who welshes on either a promise or a vague threat…

I’m going to give them both aliases, so they are anonymous. I am doing this for a couple of reasons: 1. Because, as a very serious scientific person, it would be unethical to do otherwise; and 2. Because what if I were to be sued? Damn, I don’t even have enough money for gas this week.

Analysis #1: “TDL”

TDL, from the yes or no portion of the quiz, I see that you have anger issues and pretend to care about very serious social issues. Perhaps you should try listening to soothing music, or joining a nice bonsai trimming class. Wouldn’t that be so calming? I mean, can you even think of anything more sincerely calming? Oh, wait, I’m looking at your answers more in-depth and I’m thinking that you shouldn’t have even the little scissors that come with those teeny trees, so the class is probably off the table now. But totally check out that music.

Also, Duckie was gay. He was just in denial. It’s ok to have had a crush on him, though. I did, too, a little.

And you get +1 for not getting the “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard” reference. It’s from a Kelis song, which I think is about sex. Or dairy products, but with lyrics like “you want me to teach the techniques that freaks these boys” I think probably sex. Also, that grammar is terrible, but the rhyme scheme is kind of catchy.

From the multiple choice section, I see that you are actually a little more caring than the quiz was testing for. So probably you think you’re too good for my test, is that it? What, you think you’re better than my test? Fine. Just – no. Just, fine. A+, you’re the best. Happy now?

You redeemed yourself with the short-answer portion by arguing back with me. This showed spunk, and anyone as scientifically skilled as I am knows that means you are strong and capable. Or possibly a psychopath. But there’s always room for error in these quizzes. I wouldn’t go sharpening your machete or anything.

And finally, your answer to the essay portion was grammatically correct, so kudos.

Your analysis: You, TDL, are an Ambiguously Dissociative Kinesthetic. ADK’s, as they are known in very serious scientific circles, like hats with feathers in them, punching things, alphabet magnets, and furries. They are good in professions both working with and without people, and are only 14% more likely to go on a murder spree than the normal person. Huzzah!

Analysis #2: “A”

A, from the yes-or-no portion of the quiz, I can see you like using pretty colors, fonts and text effects. This indicates that you are proficient in Microsoft Word, and probably like Bill Gates a lot. What it indicates about you psychologically? Sheesh, way to bring me back to task. Fine. I see that in your answers, you answered much in the way I would have answered. This indicates to me that you are very, very psychologically disturbed, and should probably seek treatment immediately. I can’t really be held responsible for what happens if you don’t.

You get major points for noticing a typo I made: “douche falls” was not meant to be there, it was supposed to be “douchey falls” but apparently my spell check didn’t like the word “douchey.” I can’t imagine why. I have since gone back in and changed it. In typing this paragraph, my spell check has attempted to change this word twice more. Why are you trying to harsh my buzz, spell check? Dude.

Your interest in Ed Hardy shirts is troubling. I think there’s a support group for that.

Your answers to the multiple choice indicate that you like to fly in the face of convention. I note this because you wrote your own choices. I can only assume this is because the answers were not good enough for you? Both you and TDL think you are too good for my quiz. As a very scientific person all I can say is you are a poopyhead!

(Also, completely off the subject, you wrote a book? More information is required, please. And wow!)

Your answers to the short-answer section were also quite strong and innovative. This shows you to be brave, or possibly foolhardy. Not to be confused with Ed Hardy. I can’t get that out of my head. A! Really? Ed Hardy shirts? This is going to reflect badly in your final analysis.

And, finally, your essay answer. This worries me, A. I think perhaps it indicates that you have a split personality. Also, the grammar was atrocious. But points for using the names “Orangello” and “Lemonjello” because they are my favorite urban legend baby names ever.

Your analysis: You, A, are a Libidinous Perceptual Trichromatic. LPT’s, as they are known in very serious scientific circles, like the color periwinkle, pleather, tattoos of cartoon tigers, and small bags of marbles.  They are good in professions where money is not involved, as they will both steal and eat it, and are only 74% more likely to go on a murder spree than the normal person (this is due to the Ed Hardy portion of your results. I told you that would be important later.) Double huzzah!

Thank you both for your answers. Disclaimer: although I am a very serious scientific person who used the most up-to-date scoring mechanisms to score this test, I cannot be held responsible for what happens if you live your life by its principles. In other words, don’t be a dumbass, and take responsibility for your own shit (which, by the way, is really my life’s motto, and should be everyone’s.)