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…)

Dear Adam: A Very Public Break-Up Letter

Dear Adam:

I'm sorry it's come to this, but I'm breaking up with you.


I would say "it's not you, it's me," in order to spare your feelings, but it's totally you.


It was the photo that did it. Don't act all innocent and "what photo, baby?" You know what photo. You're well-aware what photo. THIS GODDAMN PHOTO.

I actually choked on my dinner a little when I saw this in Entertainment Weekly, Adam.

Further investigation tells me that your most recent "movie" (yes, my darling, those are sarcastic quotes) Jack and Jill has you starring as both your character AND YOUR OWN TWIN SISTER. And that Joey Potter will be playing your wife.

That was when I knew I had to call this quits.

No, now, don't try to argue. We've had a good run, you and I. Do you remember when we met? I was in high school and you were on Saturday Night Live. Those were good days, Adam. You were young. I was young. You made me laugh. I've always been a sucker for a man who can make me laugh. I still am, Adam. Which is why we're breaking up, to be honest. The laughs, they've just stopped coming.

"Red Hooded Sweatshirt." "The Chanukah Song." "Canteen Boy." "Lunchlady Land." I loved you and your silly ways.

Then I got older, and we grew apart. I never forgot you, Adam. Please don't think that I did! I just got in with another crowd, the indie-film types, the musicians. There was a lot of eyeliner and angst.

Years later, I met another man who made me laugh, and one day it was very hot where we worked, and he said, "It's too damn hot for a penguin to be just walkin' around" and that was funny, so I asked him what it was from, and he looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Billy Madison?" he said. "You haven't seen Billy Madison?"

So I rented Billy Madison, and I remembered the good times we used to have, Adam, and how much you made me laugh. Then Happy Gilmore. Mixed Nuts. Airheads. And we were back together! The man who made me laugh was no longer in the picture, but you stayed. And we were very happy together.

Then The Wedding Singer. This was a new thing - you? In a romantic comedy? I decided to give it a go. I mean, there had been romance in the other films, but silly, jokey romance, and this was an actual date movie. And Adam! You were wonderful! As was the film! And even though I hated Drew Barrymore going into it (don't ask, she and I had some tough times, her "free spirit/stripping in front of David Letterman" schtick made me weary), I came out of it with new appreciation for her and new respect for you! And yes, I even forgave you for cheating on me with her in the movie. We could move past that! True love conquers all!

I bought your comedy albums - on cassette tape, because that's all I had in my car - and listened to them over and over. Your voice cheered me up after bad days at work. It was a good time for us, Adam. We were happy, weren't we?

Then Dirty Work - not your finest hour, but you were helping your old Saturday Night Live buddy Norm out, I get it - and then The Waterboy. Um. Well, we're all allowed a misstep now and then. I mean, I'm not perfect. No one is! No one at all. And the movie did well enough in the box office. And frat boys seemed to be quoting it a lot. So you had that going for you.

Big Daddy. Well, it wasn't the worst thing ever. You were maturing, as was I. You wanted to make something more family-friendly. I get it! It actually had some touching moments, and Jon Stewart was in it, so how can that be wrong? I stood by  you. That's what you do, when you're in love, right?

Oh, but then, Adam, you redeemed yourself. And so beautifully. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, because this was, I was sure, your crossover movie; this was what would launch you from comedy to drama; this was your Clooney-esque step from Facts of Life to ER. Punch Drunk Love. I loved it to distraction. I watched it in the theater the day it was released; I bought the DVD the day it came out. "I have a love in my life. It makes me stronger than anything you can imagine." Yes. YES. I knew I had backed the winning horse. This would go down in history as your defining moment.

And then you made Mr. Deeds.

This was bewildering, to say the least. This wasn't even a movie. This wasn't even a blip on the radar of Hollywood history. This was a remake that didn't need to be remade that you seemed to be sleepwalking through. What was going on? What exactly was going through your head? But I still saw it in the theater. I did. For you.

Then The Hot Chick. Eight Crazy Nights.

Listen, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, here, but let's put our cards on the table. This is when I started to pull away from you, emotionally. I didn't see either of these movies. And I still haven't, despite the fact they've been on cable ad infinitum since. Perhaps this is a betrayal of some sort; if so, I'm sorry. But Rob Schneider is a BAD INFLUENCE ON YOU. He is the most annoying little booger I have ever watched. I hated him on Saturday Night Live and I hate him in everything you deign to allow him to co-star in. No. Just, no. And then an oddly-animated comedy based on a song you sang eight years ago? I mean, it's a funny song, but really? This seems like poor timing, doesn't it?

I'll admit I saw Anger Management in the theater. I felt bad; I missed you. I felt worse when I left. I had nothing nice to say. Nothing at all.

Where did my Adam go? My sweet, dorky, funny Adam? What was going on?

50 First Dates - eh, it reeked of "we really had magic with The Wedding Singer so LET'S TRY AGAIN!" but didn't quite hit the mark. Spanglish - not bad, nice try, some nice moments, but I knew you could do better - you did, in Punch Drunk Love - so, again, it didn't quite hit the mark.

I didn't see The Longest Yard. I'm sure I had a reason. Or maybe I didn't. You know, I just don't think I cared enough to see it. There were sports in it, I think. And it was another remake. And the trailer bored me to tears. I'm not even apologizing for this.

Click was manipulative enough to make me cry but only because anything with a Christmas-Carol-esque "this is what could be" angle always gets to me. So that was mean. I see what you were trying to do - win me back by manipulating me with tears. Well, that's a shitty thing to do, Adam, after all we've been through! And also it kind of sucked big old donkey dick, to be quite frank. No amount of tears makes THAT go away.

I had high hopes for Reign Over Me. I really did. A 9/11 movie? Good. A serious drama? Good. Sorry. I really, really couldn't handle it. It wasn't well-done. I think you tried. I don't think it was all your fault. It wasn't the best script.

I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. Bedtime Stories. You Don't Mess with the Zohan. At this point, it's like you're writing random script ideas on a dartboard and throwing darts while drunk and then making a movie of whatever the dart hits. Did you honestly think any of these were a good idea? NO, I didn't SEE them! That's not the POINT! Did anyone see them? They're EMBARRASSING! Your NAME is on these! Every time I go to the goddamn hair salon they're playing You Don't Mess with the Zohan on some sort of Satanic endless loop and I want to throw myself into the hot wax vat to get away from how AWFUL it looks! Please make it stop!

Also, were you trying to be pro-gay-rights with I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, or make fun of gay people? Because I found it really derogatory, in a childish "hee hee GAY PEOPLE they have GAY SEX" way, and I just wonder if that was on purpose? Because really? You were 41 when you made this. You work in the entertainment industry. Which, I'm assuming, if it's anything like the theater industry, is heavily populated with gay people. So you were just ok with being third-grade giggly about people you probably work with on a daily basis? Hmm.

The cracks in our relationship, Adam, are growing wider and wider. You see that, right?

I went to the theater for Funny People. But honestly, I went for Seth Rogen, and because it looked like it would be a drama. One moment got to me - the one near the beginning where your character was looking over videos of his career. Because there were actual videos of your actual career in there. When you were funny. Back before - well, whatever all of this is happened. So I cried, there. Because I missed you.

Otherwise, again? More donkey-dick suckage.

Just Go With It - no thanks, I don't think I will. The Zookeeper? Um. No. No, no. Talking animals? No.

Honestly, until today, I thought, Adam and I, we're cool. He'll keep making these generic, stupid movies and I'll go on ignoring them as well as I can and it will always be a sore spot, but I'll always love him.

Well, until today. Until I saw THE PICTURE.

Really? REALLY? This - this is heretofore unknown DEPTHS of suck. I can't even DESCRIBE how disturbing this is to me. WHO TOLD YOU THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA. This isn't even a Freaky Friday-like thing. Do you know what this is? This movie should be subtitled "A man! In a dress! Isn't that the FUNNIEST THING YOU'VE EVER HEARD OF? Right? Right? I mean, it's a MAN! In WOMEN'S CLOTHES! OMG, HA HA HA!"

Adam. ADAM! I'm sorry. I just can't. I can't anymore.

Don't you remember your own quote from Happy Gilmore? "Why you don't you just go HOME? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME?" Your home is stupid but well-written and very quotable comedies, romantic comedies, and we KNOW you can pull off drama, if it's written and directed well. Go home, Adam.

Your home is not cross-dressing movies. Your home is also not the next two movies you have coming out, which IMDb tells me are something called I Hate You Dad where you're either playing Leighton Meester's dad or her boyfriend (please don't let it be her boyfriend, babe, you're 45 years old and she's barely out of Juicy sweatpants) and the voice of Dracula in Hotel Transylvania (I don't know and I don't want to know what's going on there.)

Adam. ADAM! I'm sorry. Stop begging. It's not becoming. IT IS OVER. I will cherish our time together. It will always mean so much to me. When one of your movies comes on, I will watch it and smile. (Unless it was made after 2002, then I'm changing the channel, sorry, nostalgia doesn't mean I have to sit through garbage.) 

Please know I will always love that young man who sang "Hoagies and grinders, hoagies and grinders, navy beans, navy beans, navy beans, navy beans." It's like he was singing into my soul.

Oh, and watch out for Cruise. I assume you had some lip-action with little Joey Potter in your upcoming movie; ask Matt Lauer, Cruise can be MEAN. He'll get ALL up in your grill. He's got the power of CRAZY on his side, dude. Best run if you see that train a'comin'.

All my best, but please stop calling me, because I totally mean it, we're through,

Amy.