Tag Archives: imma crazy like that

How I relax

Visual Representation of My Thought Process

To all the people watching, I can never thank you enough for your kindness to me, and I’ll think about it for the rest of my life. All I ask of you is one thing: Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism: it’s my least favorite quality, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.

– Conan O’Brien

p.s. The picture is from our vacation in Maui in 2008. It was warm. No snow. I was on vacation. No work. My job was secure then. No impending doom. And my kids were still just kids. No freaksoid preteen (Such a category is not even named in Chinese so how do you expect me to deal with this phase?!).

p.p.s. Great. The picture was supposed to help me relax. Now it simply reminds me of things that once were.

p.p.p.s. If I were given $32 million dollars, I could probably also afford to be un-cynical.

p.p.p.p.s. Ok. That sounded VERY cynical.

p.p.p.p.p.s. Sorry. Coco.

Trouble Maker? You talking to me?

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Sometimes I wonder whether the teachers talk about the parents amongst themselves. I would probably be known as “Trouble Maker”. My favorite moment was when I confronted approached the principal at the Thanksgiving Feast:

“Could I safely assume that the headpieces the children are wearing are ‘turkeys’ and not ‘head dresses’?” I used the quotation marks and I gave him an “I am just kidding, but only half” look.

“Huh? Ohh. I am sure they are turkeys…” Well, he did not sound so sure. He sounded surprised. I was surprised that HE was surprised. You mean, nobody else but me wondered about THAT? Anyway, he’s been put on notice and he seems scared to see me ever since. I can hear him inside his head, “Oh. For crying out loud. What now?!” Fortunately for all of us, I work full-time and I hardly ever go to school.

Today I wrote an email* to my 6-grade-son’s teacher:

Dear Mrs. G,

D told me yesterday about Heather’s big birthday party bash. She has apparently invited the whole class to her house from 2 to 8 pm. It sounds like it is going to be an awesome party. The IT party of their childhood before they go off onto Middle School.

Being a pain in everybody else’s neck, I asked D whether all seven girls in the class actually do hang out with each other.

“Does anybody get left out? You know, it’s going to hurt a lot if one of them gets left out seeing how few girls you have in your class.”

I don’t know why. Nobody gave me the job of being purveyor of social justice. Like I said, I am just a pain. Probably born that way. I am sorry… Really. I am. Because I make troubles whenever I send you an email.

At my question, D paused and said, “Well, she sort of invited the whole class. Except one.”

“What? Who?” But I already knew the answer, based on things D has told me in the past.

“Charles Wu was not invited.”

“And she gave out the invitations to everybody else in class? Does Charles know about this?”

D’s eyes turned red. “Yeah. I think he knows.”

“We play with Charles during recess and we are nice to him.” He continued, his eyes getting redder. “I guess all that is just skin deep…”

I am not writing to ask you to talk to Heather about any of this. On the contrary. It will probably worsen Charles’ status on the food chain. Besides, if she is indeed forced to include Charles, I shudder at the thought of what’s going to happen to him at the party. Probably nothing. Exactly nothing. Nobody would talk to him or play with him. Indifference is the most hurtful thing one human being can do to the other.

I am writing, in addition to me being a pain, to let you know the situation in case Charles seems down lately. I am sure you have seen THIS many many times in your years of teaching. So please tell me I am making too big a deal out of this. (Yeah, I know. I wish I did not read Lord of the Flies either…) Please tell me that they all survive, that they all walk out of this unscathed. But I know, I never forget what happened to me in elementary school. And it still hurts because nobody talked to me about it when it was happening.

Sincerely,
[Me]

* Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Just in case.

I Comment Therefore I Am: The Amazon Edition

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Unknown Mami Here is another edition of I Comment Therefore I Am, following the footsteps of the great Unknown Mammi.

In this era of information overload, in a lot of the news blogs, especially political news blogs, comments are often the best part. Sometimes the scariest part. The comment section is like a looking glass through which you get a glimpse into what the other end of the spectrum is really thinking, under the cloak of anonymity. Wouldn’t you know that comments are also the best part in product review websites?

Amazon.com.

Bet you did not know the fun you would encounter by prowling the world’s largest retail store. Here is one that has become a legend, a pop culture reference:

Three Wolf Moon Short Sleeve Tee: BEST comments? You bet'ya!

As of now, there are 1,657 customer reviews of this shirt. WHAT? Yup.

In November 2008, one genius shopper, or social commentator, wrote a smashing, rave review of this shirt, which has since garnered 222 comments. More than that, 17,617 of 17,783 people found the review helpful. Sheer number counts make this review a force to be reckoned with. The popularity of the review and the number of imitators propelled this shirt to some Geek Stardom. Case in point: The final episode of The Office when Pam and Jim got hitched? Dwight was wearing this shirt when he proudly declared that he would be at the bar to pick up the ladies.

The review is funny as hell. Read on:

“This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that’s when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to ‘howl at the moon’ from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn’t have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn’t settle for the first thing that comes to him…” (Continue reading)

Satirical, rave reviews are often done to highlight the ridiculousness of the high price asked for the product. For this $500 audio cable, Denon AKDL1 Dedicated Link Cable, dueling reviews have been written: Yes! It solved Global Warming! and No! It caused alien invasion!

I know. Some people have way too much time on their hands. Speaking of people with too much time AND money on their hands… SOMEONE alerted me to this Land Cruiser for sale. At $19,999.95 it is a steal, won’t you say? But the reviews are priceless.

JL421 Badonkadonk Land Cruiser/Tank: I think this is an ACTUAL product and not meant to be a joke...

You know how I love making a point when given the chance, therefore when I saw how much the baby bath book is fetching…

If this is not a WTF moment, I don't know what is...

I had some fun…

Product reviews as a new form of satire. What has the world come to? Guilty as charged...

“Do you realize the people back here are getting cookies?!”

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Jerry: “I can’t go back to coach!”

This is from the 52nd episode of Seinfeld “The Airport”. The Hyperlink takes you to an 8-minute long collection of the best scenes from this episode. Watch from 7:20 for one of my favorite lines from my beloved TV series:

“Do you realize the people back here are getting cookies?!”

I don’t know why. I just loved it even back in 1992 when I had no idea that I would be flying frequently. In coach, nonetheless…

This post could have been titled “WTF Wednesday: How the Other Half Lives”. But seeing how it is already Thursday and I have been cheating via backdating a lot lately, I will just skip a WTF Wednesday post. This should help with my image anyway: soon I fear I will only be posting WTF posts and nothing else. Since my life seems to be full of WTF moments. Or it could just be me: I am wearing WTF Goggles as I go through life…

It suffices to say that Karma delivered. After my not-so-satisfactory-yet-definitely-great-blog-fodder-and-therefore-I-should-be-grateful-all-considered flights to Taipei, I was upgraded to Business Class for the leg between Taipei and Tokyo.

Prior to this, I had ONLY heard of the Lie-Flat Business Class outfitted for the Trans-Pacific flights. (From my beloved husband nonetheless, who will certainly get it from now on if he ever complains about his air travel…) Oh boy, was I excited. When I got to the plane, I was really nervous: I would have been greatly disappointed if for some reason this plane had only the regular Business Class seats. (Yes, one does get spoiled very quickly…) Wait. How come I could not find my row? It went straight from Row 10 to Row 19. Is it a cruel joke? The flight attendant pointed UP and said, “Your seat is on the Upper Level.”

WTF? Upper Level? There is an Upper Level? I mean: I knew there is an Upper Level on a 747 but I thought that was for the super duper Secret Society First Class seats: where they have a hot tub and possibly a stripper pole or something.

As I ascended the stairs, I could hear the angels singing, celestial music playing in the background. “Ahhhhh—–” Much to the chagrin of my seatmate, I started taking pictures as soon as I finished putting everything away. Oh my. So many choices in WHERE to store my shit that it took me a while to figure it out… (He soon exchanged seats with his wife…) I did not know that I would ever, ever, wish for a flight to last longer. Alas. It was not meant to be. The plane actually landed early. I only got to enjoy my Lazy Boy home theatre for a bit longer than two hours. So why couldn’t this flight have been diverted to Alaska? I would have been HAPPY… Very happy.

CODA: Soon afterwards, Karma delivered again. This time to balance everything out my flight from Tokyo back to Washington D.C. was delayed for TWO hours. And of course this time I was back to my coach class for the 12-hour flight. The reason for our delay? AFTER the Christmas Underpants Bomber threat, AFTER the airports around the world heightened security checks by adding a second checkpoint right at the gates for US-bound flights, AFTER we had all been searched and padded down by hand, thoroughly, some Einstein decided that it was a smart move to make a joke about a bomb with the flight attendant. She reported his dumb ass and he was hauled off the plane. Subsequently the cargo area had to be searched to rule out any suspicious material in addition to locate this guy’s checked luggage. Police and security guards were also on board to search the plane before we were allowed to take off.

I am on the Upper Level baby! It’s like a secret club tree house! Elaine was right: Here is your new Classism…

Look at the space! Just look at it! It is bigger than my dorm room!

This is like your own private movie theatre: they even have new releases. Seriously. WTF?!

I want a basement home theatre that looks like this. Complete with flight attendants that smile. A lot.

Are we flying USS Enterprise or something? This thing and the console requires a manual. It even has an iPod dock that I was too embarrassed to tinker with

Between the seats are the magazine racks. You ever wonder where the GOOD magazines are?

Full-size remote control for the entertainment center. So many movies, so little time…

This was the 3rd movie I selected. I kept on changing it. Too excited about all the choices and I couldn’t make up my mind. Therefore I didn’t get to finish any. What an idiot…

It is not enough for us to have the overhead bins all to ourselves. The side is lined up with storage bins that I can raise chicken in…

This is ONLY the first course. WTF?

This is the main course: honey-glazed salmon. Check out the rice. It actually tasted really good. WTF?!

I was so amused by the fact that I could see my feet that I must have taken a dozen of pictures of my feet

I love being able to see my feet. I wish I were wearing Ho Heels. Actually, I wish I HAD Ho Heels…

I was lying down FLAT when I took this picture. Just have to show everybody, “Hey, I am lying down flat on a plane!” and not in the aisle!

Stolen Day

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I feel that we have got an extra day out of this insane holiday season…

The original plan was for me to be away for 3 days this past week on a business trip. I would come back late on Friday night and start cleaning, doing laundry, packing, addressing holiday cards, and finishing up holiday shopping ALL on Saturday, and then we would fly out to my in-law’s this morning.

Thank goodness for the snow storm in the DC area. Reportedly the highest amount of snowfall that DC has seen in at least seven years: at Dulles airport snow accumulation reached 16 inches on Saturday, and 13.3 inches was reported at Reagan. Instead of agonizing over the prospect of waiting in the airport for indefinite time today, we had decided to change our flight to Monday morning. As soon as we made that decision, I felt physically the lessening of the winding inside my head and my body. A collective sigh of relief felt in every corner of the house.

I worked through my check list at a leisurely pace yesterday:

Laundry detergent and gift cards at Costco. Check.

Gift cards & holiday cards for Catechists and gym coaches. Check. (And I assume it is safe to wish the Catechists a Merry Christmas without the possibility of offending them?)

Hold the Mail request at the Post Office. Check.

Newspaper hold. Check.

Neighborhood watch request at the police station. Check.

Kids’ haircut. Check.

Lip wax. Ooops. I forgot. I guess I will just have hairy lips with face powder dangling off the end of my upper lip throughout the holiday.

Laundry and the dreaded folding part. Started and ongoing. (“Predecessor task” in MS Project lingo)

The chaos of packing. Started and ongoing. (“Successor task” in MS Project lingo)

Addressing holiday cards, figuring out whether the cryptic emails from my friend with no mentioning of her husband means she is now divorced, deciding whether to say anything or what to say on the cards to distant cousins who are now divorced, coming up with proper words for our Jewish friends now that we have missed the entire 8-day window of Chanukah to show that we did not forget about Chanukah and we are not sending them the holiday cards now out of our callous Christian (+ 1 pagan) hearts (Thank goodness we can still wish them a “Happy New Year!”), stuffing, licking, stamping. Check. (With NO paper cuts to fingers or tongues. Success!)

In the evening we behaved as if it were any other Saturday evening: my husband went to the movie with my 11 year-old (AVATAR, in 3D); I took Mr. Monk, my 7-year-old, to the mall because he wanted Auntie Anne’s pretzels.

What? Was I crazy to hit the mall on the Saturday before Christmas? Yeah, I thought so as soon as I turned into the mall drive and saw all the cars, moving, squeezing, waiting, and parked.

Here’s a tip for you out there from a Mall Veteran. One word. SEARS. Go to Sears and I guarantee there is a spot for you. Probably not too close if it is the last weekend before C-day. BUT still closer than what you could find at the other parts of the mall. Trust me.

So here is the GOLDEN parking space Mr. Monk spotted. Good job, my lad! I was so excited I wanted to call everybody I know.

I never want to leave this spot again!

Seriously, this was no small feat. I did not want to leave that spot when we were done at the mall. I wanted to stay there, to stake my claim, to “Put a flag on it.”

In addition to getting the best parking space I have ever gotten on a crazy day like this, my stolen day ended up on a high note also because a light bulb went up after I’d had two drinks at the stupid Rain Forest Cafe (aka the worst tourist trap because it is located inside a goddamn MALL! Why is there a tourist trap inside a mall?), ok, a fuzzy light bulb nonetheless, and a thought bubble formed:

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

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I was thinking since I am all over the map going from warm fuzzy pictures of my kids smiling like angels to crazy ass inappropriate jokes and cursing to crazy ass all-out ranting on people/events/things that piss me off. I either have ADHD or Bi-Polar, I realized, or as my husband would gladly tell you, “Insane in the Membrane”. I was thinking, perhaps I should create a Warning System for my blog.

Don't you wish there is such a system for everything in life?

I really like how Homeland Security did the color coded chart because, as we all know, homo sapiens (“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”) are visual animals. Really, when I see the ORANGE color at the airport, I become appreciative and understanding of the 1-hour wait at the security line. When disaster strikes, nothing is going to get my fat ass moving faster than seeing a RED flag waving in the air.

Won’t it be cool if I have a Warning System for this blog, before you start reading a post, you would know what to expect:

Blog Advisory System: Don't say I didn't warn you!

Of course, after an hour of working on my Blog Advisory system, I realized that no Advisory System is going to reach the goal of MECE: Mutually Exclusive and Collectively Exhaustive. Mock ye not. This is something the McKinsey & Co. consultants live and die by. And they get paid big bucks for being anal retentive. No shit. For instance, it worries me that the heartless dicks and grouchiest bitches amongst you will need a special warning such as this one:

Danger Ahead

Well, like I said, don’t say that I didn’t warn you…

Know thyself. Be thyself.

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It is 2:03 am. I am all of a sudden wide awake.

Note to self: Listening to PRI Selected Shorts podcasts while cleaning the house is a sure way that your mind will become overactive and that you will have trouble falling asleep.

I will pay for this indulgence: lying down on my Therapy Couch and talking to you all, my imaginary friends, (I am going to start calling you Soren Lorensen I think…) soon since I have a 6:30 am flight to catch and I have not packed yet. Coming here has clearly become a serious addiction. I carry this urge at my throat to write something down all day long. I am afraid to open my mouth lest a scream may come out.

I often panic when I am made aware of this since it feels so similar to Narcissism…

Someone very wise, probably wiser than Confucius since she is female (and Confucius was obviously not) and women rock because of our uterus, that I have had the privilege of meeting through this little patch of heaven I call my Therapy Couch (or hell on some bad days I won’t lie to you) told me that she could tell that “blogging is both a creative outlet and just outlet” for me.

She was right. When I first started doing this, I really did not expect anybody to come by and get into a conversation with me. I saw this as a different medium of talking to myself since I have been doing that inside my head for a long time. Why not? I simply jotted down whatever came to my mind. No self-censorship. And no editing either, to be very honest with you.

It felt like liberation from Facebook. From the potential for censure by family, friends, colleagues. It felt like liberation from Twitter. From the bondage of 140 characters. And it felt like the earth after rain. It felt good.

When I began to have supportive friends who stop by on a regular basis, to check me out and make sure that I am still operating in a socially acceptable manner, I was flattered yet incredulous. “Surely they have mistaken me for someone else, or something else.” With that self-congratulatory realization of “OMG I have fans” came the burden to please. Or at least, since I have no mental filter once my mouth starts running, the fear for offense. The desire to please everybody, nay, the compulsive need to please everybody is one of those soul-killers that I am trying to escape. I am afraid I may have lost my way.

At the risk of sounding like I am trying to recast myself as the cliche in I’ve Never Been to Me… I am getting back on my journey to understand myself better. The peeling of the onion. What is more important though, is that once I find myself, I really need to just be myself. Perhaps the being and the finding happen at the same time.

So…

Dear Soren Lorensen,

I hope you will stay. But if you outgrow me or the other way around, I wish you the very best.

As always, a pretentious rambling such as this will not be complete without a quotation from a famous, yet just a tad out there, writer. Preferably by e. e. cummings. Here it is.

To be yourself

I comment therefore I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing…

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November 30. Yeah baby!

I am finishing this NaBloMoFo with a special edition of “I Comment Therefore I Am”…

… because it is Monday. And Monday, especially Monday after the long Thanksgiving weekend, absolutely sucks ass, especially if you work in an office…

In this edition, I will share with you how I abuse my privilege as a reader and commenter of blogs…

Eat me

The Sky is Falling asked her readers this question:

So, if you were making a list of “Dat’s Some Funny Shit,Yo,” what movies/TV/books/blogs/etc. would you include? What has informed (or malformed) your particular brand of humor? What falls in the category of Sorry, I Just Don’t Get It? Any deal-breakers (for example, “If I found out you loved/hated __________, you would be dead to me.”)?

She had no idea what she had done: it’s like dangling fat dripping meat to a hungry cougar. I totally took the bait. So I commented at 8:14 PM:

Hey, the jokes made me cry and smile at the same time. {{{hugs}}} if hugs from strangers over the internet are not too creepy for ya. We are a family of cracking “inappropriate” jokes at “inappropriate” moments also. I eagerly clicked on all 4 YouTube links and realized: I need to spend some time watching them so I can test my love for you! So, I will be back. Also you left us a homework at the end. Maybe we (your loyal readers) need to write posts in response to this question. 🙂 Promise: I will be back.

p.s. You are making it very difficult for me to tend to my motherly duty. Your posts all make me think too much and I am now constantly distracted! LOL

An hour later… I wrote some more:

I’m back! Sorry it took so long since I have StumbledUpon almost all of them, and tweeted 2 of them! LOVE Eddie Izzard. (Confession: I only watched him on YouTube. We have no cable. And we don’t watch that much TV not because we are snobbish but because we have no time) I was also distracted because I found him pretty… That clip is funny as hell. “We stole countries with the cunning use of flags.” Bloody BRILLIANT! I want to go around and say “No flag. No country” now. I love the Strong Bad one too. (Confession: have never really watched the Homestar Runner show EXCEPT the Strong Bad email sections) I actually saw Louis CK when he was on Conan O’Brien. LOVED IT and then told everybody I know that travels frequently. Yes, we bitch about air travel all the time. I did curtail my bitching afterwards. Now I say to myself whenever my flight is delayed: “At least I am not travelling with my kids.” Being a parent does give you life-changing perspectives. LOL. I have to confess: I was not laughing at the Muppet Danny Boy clip. Sorry! BTW, I checked my StumbledUpon and saw that I had “favored” a Jackass clip. OH NO! But it’s the one where they dressed up as pandas and ran around in Tokyo. I liked it because they were clearly idiots, and the clip shows, at least the way I interpret it, that the Japanese have a great sense of humor and a great deal of tolerance for stupidity as exhibited by foreigners, i.e. they are our guests. We shall not laugh at them, but rather, laugh with them. I told you: I need to write an entire complete post to answer your question. Good one though!

In her other post, “If You Drink At Every Parenthetical in this Post, You Probably Should Not Drive” (by the way, isn’t this an awesome title? And of course I commented on it…), she asked her readers yet more questions. I think she has a death wish by Comment Hogs or something.

I haven’t told my sister about this blog. What do y’all do about the whole anonymity issue? Do you have a chosen circle? Are you totally incognito? Reasons for/against?

I absolutely rose to the occasion and commented THREE times.

NOVEMBER 25, 2009 5:21 PM

I love the title of this post. I need to stop by to say hi, but I need to go focus on Mr. Monk since it’s his birthday. BUT I will be back ’cause THIS topic hits right at home. From your loyal reader aka NOT Love Greg*

NOVEMBER 25, 2009 8:07 PM

Short answer for now because I need to clean up the house and put together a grocery list for Thanksgiving… Parents-in-law flight arrives tomorrow at 9 am! I am anonymous not because I am afraid of stalkers (Not that famous yet so no need. LOL) but because I am worried that someone from work may chance upon my blog and then the whole company would know. I don’t talk about work still since I am paranoid. I really want to complain about being the only woman in my office sometimes but I refrain from doing that now since well, just in case. A few of my very close friends who I can trust know about my blog. My husband knows but does not read it often. Sometimes I wish he didn’t since I wanted to complain about him really bad often… None of my family knows. Well, my side does not read English. My husband’s side… Well, let’s just say my MIL is a devout Catholic and my FIL thinks Fox News is the greatest (for which we have made fun of him and he’s ok with it…) They are really very nice and very kind and they treat me like their own daughter. We get along fine since we do NOT talk about politics or religions. Again though, I don’t complain about people in my life really JUST IN CASE. Any passing complaints directed towards people that you do care are best left unwritten. That’s my take. Because you never know when the written thing is going to come back and bite you…

If you do tell your sister about this blog, and if she does want to start her own blog, you two should think about hosting a blog together. This way it will definitely ease the burden of having to write a post every day (or even every other day). That being said: I don’t know how you would deal with “popularity contest”, “competition”, and “jealousy”. I am human, and I am bound to feel jealous if my sister’s posts are more popular than mine on the same blog… Think about WHAM! as an example… 😉

(Sorry for bad grammar and yet another long comment!)

p.s. Totally dig stream of consciousness writing.

NOVEMBER 25, 2009 9:55 PM

OK. What kind of SHORT answer was THAT?!

There you have it. Oink. Oink.

* The “Love Greg” joke requires the reading of this post Creepoid vs. Bitch for which I also left a long comment. Totally worth it, my imaginary friends.

Finally, Bacon Vodka is no longer just a myth…

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To those who have not heard about my temporary relapse of sanity that led me to embark on this dark and lonely road of trying to make my own bacon-flavored Vodka, I announced my Bacon Vodka experiment in August. Much to my own surprise, I actually followed through immediately and went to Walmart for the supplies on the same day… (Well, part of the reason was because that was when I just discovered PeoepleofWallmart.com and I was really excited to check out Walmart as an ethnographic study. Alas, I could not bring myself to scrumptiously photograph people when they were obviously not at their best. Besides, Karma works in the most mysteriously ways. I don’t look forward to seeing myself on that website).

I also followed through with concocting the brew that day, but it is not until September that I was finally sober enough to blog about the 12 Steps to Bacon Vodka.

Here is a picture of the Bacon Vodka, with bacon in it, on Day 1. After 4 weeks of soaking… this is what the bacon looks like.

Really. Take a look at it. Because if you don’t, you will not fully appreciate the reason why I have been leaving it alone in the freezer until tonight, nor will you fully appreciate the fact that I am a brave soul. Or crazy. Or both.

My youngest has been on my case lately. “Why aren’t you drinking your bacon vodka?” “When are you going to drink your bacon vodka?”

He has gone straight past the obvious question of “Why?” to wholeheartedly accept the fact, yup, my mom has bacon-flavored vodka that she made herself in the freezer. He has also told several innocent bystanders this matter-of-fact-ly when we were out and about.

To not disappoint him further, instead of baking him cookies that he has also asked for, I told him after I came home from work on Friday night:

Do you want to watch me drink the bacon vodka?

(Yup. They are going to grow up to be great writers… I try my best to provide them with a childhood that is as extra-ordinary as possible)

So we did. I mean, I made a Bloody Bacon Mary out of my bacon-flavored vodka, and he watched me drink it with anticipation.

“Did it taste good?”

“Yes. It tastes like tomato soup.”

“Oh. Good!”

And that’s that.

Hey, I am not the only one who thinks that the Smiley looks like a pervert!

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Jane over at They Call Me Jane has been calling for everybody to share their crazy search terms, i.e. the keywords with which people were led to your blog, and she calls this Friday The 13th,

Share Your Crazy Search Engine Terms Day!

It is Jane. Naturally I ~~obliged~~. wanted to be in on it. (Just confirmed my suspicion by really looking the word “obliged” up: it has the connotation of doing someone a favor. Doh. It is the other way around. Hence the correction). Not only that, because she used to be a teacher, and you know, “Once a teacher, always a teacher”: I even did my homework assignment in EXCEL. Yeah, I am a teacher’s pet. Bite me. (Not to mention the free blogging idea to fill the daily quota for NaBloPoMo… But Shhh… Don’t tell Ms. Jane, please)

Unfortunately, none of my search terms are overtly exciting… As you can see for yourself: (You will also see that I don’t get too many hits. But THAT is ok. Really. I mean it… I am having fun. More importantly, I have made a few great friends in the process…)

One search term (or group of search terms) that did get my attention is “Smiley Pervert”. There are 15 searches that used similar terms: perverted smiley faces, pervy face. I am happy to confirm once and for all that I was NOT the only one wondering: What is the deal with the smiley faces looking so similar to a pervert? Once again, the Internet helped me prove that I am not insane.

I did remember seeing the search term, “what a serial killer look like,” but it did not show up in the summary my Blog Stats showed me. Oh well. Maybe the serial killer wannabe also hacked into my account and got rid of the record because he did not want to leave any trace of him ever wondering what a serial killer looks like.

Since my own search terms are not bizarre at all, I decided to artificially provide random blogs with bizarre search terms such as,

“Cow Poop For Dinner”

“My Girlfriend Hot Mom” Warning: Searching this term will result in lots of pornographic sites. No shit.

“Dung Beetle Soup” and then “Dung Beetle Salad”

“Frog Milkshake” This actually does exist as a food item somewhere in South America. Dreamed up by one woman who, clearly, has lost her mind!

“Hippo Vomit Sandwich” Some lady is going to learn that the announcement of her pregnancy attracted this bizarre search term…

“Ninja Sex” Well, turns out Ninja Sex Party is a comedy troupe. So I modified it to “Ninja Sex Lunchroom”. A poor, unsuspecting Book Review Blog will be pondering over the stats tomorrow, wondering… WTF?

But I swear, I was NOT the one that searched for Wrinkled Boobs, which coincidentally was the genesis of Jane’s Share Your Crazy Search Engine Terms Day bonanza.

I hope I don’t get an F in this assignment…

The Absence of Alternatives

My therapy sessions…