i am all things to all people. on Google. especially the perverts.

I’ve had some good fun with this here website, my friends, you better believe it.  Oh yes, I’ve celebrated my son’s life, I’ve talked about both fabulous and hard moments of parenting, I’ve embarrassed my husband. (Yes, embarrassing your husband is good, fun times. And hell, he makes it SO EASY.  What with saying things like this.  But I digress.)

And of course, I’ve talked to and met so many of you, learned about you, and built wonderful friendships.

But today I’m going to let you in on another part of having this website that enriches my life.

Keyword searches.

I am endlessly entertained by checking my web stats to see what web searches lead to this site.  Now, some of them, I will admit, make me want to vomit.  I’m going to spare you specifics on these, but if I could find the people who were entering them into a computure somewhere, sterilization would be in order.

With a rusty fork.

When I can get beyond the TRULY DISGUSTING AND DEPRAVED searches, there are the mild perverts.  I imagine these are the kind of winners who “bump” against you “by accident” on the subway.

They land on my page by searching:

• nipple pleasure
• moms with nice racks
• naked wrestling
• mom crotchless
• nut in my mouth
• mom peeing
• slap me around
• bunchy vagina (W. T. F.)

To whomever searched “i put my mascara in my vagina” – STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW.  There are things that just shouldn’t be inserted in certain areas.  I THINK YOU’VE DISCOVERED ONE OF THOSE COMBINATIONS.

And whoever searched “big fat and ugly” I hate you.

But then there are the searches that just make me laugh.  A few recent examples:

• i want to shave my face off
• jello farts
• bitch perfume
• im going to eat your uterus
• can you put chocolate on the head of a penis

This is really just a small sampling, and only from the past four days or so.  I’m sure you can now see why this is so amusing to me.

Incidentally, my top three search terms for the past year?

1. sarcastic mom
2. best push up bra
3. bewbs

Numbers 1 and 3 are completely understandable, right? Right.

And number 2?  Oh, you have no idea how glorious it is for me to claim that lovely search term.  You may or may not remember this post about that earlier this year.  Go ahead, read it.  It’s funny, and it will give you insight into this push up bra business.

Guess what, PR Asshat?  You can #suckit.  I might still be on the second page of hits for “best push up bra” but I think you and I both know that I still win this round.  So eat me.

Of course, that post bought me top 3 ranking for both searches: “asshats who should die” and “Ultimate Assholes of The Universe.” *cough*

*awkward silence*

(please feel free to stop and confirm that I actually *am* the number one search return on Google for “Ultimate Assholes of The Universe,” it’s okay, I understand the urge to do this. go ahead. laugh. Now laugh even harder when you see I’m hits number 1 AND 2. get it out of your system)

(PS: no really, DOESN’T THAT RULE!?)

Continuing!  To the person who recently searched “getting him off with your bare feet,” here’s my advice:  since making him a sandwich and getting him a beer with your feet is going to be pretty hard, just go ahead and cheat and use your hands on those ones. But using your big toe to turn on the TV on Superbowl Sunday should be pretty easy.  Unless you’re a fucking moron.  Or, you know, you don’t have feet.  In which case the search would be pointless and you’re wasting my time and yours.

Only other thing I can think of is you wanting to get him off the couch, in which case, two feet planted squarely on his back in a sudden power thrust should do the job nicely.  I mean really, sometimes you just want to watch Keifer Sutherland, er, I mean 24, alone.

What?  Wait, we’re not talking about putting our feet on naked wiener are we?  Oh, good grief.  Really?  This searcher must be the alter ego of the weirdo who Googled “gross wieners on your body” the other day.  Right.

Of course, the best thing for me was noticing just yesterday that a search for “wife is a bitch” landed someone on my site.  Now, if that was John, we can congratulate Google for 100% Success in returning accurate hits to sites from searches.

All in all, the whacked out nutjobs out there with access to a computer are giving me a bit of free entertainment.  And I like it.  Thanks, ya fuckin’ head-cases.  I owe ya one.  Maybe I’ll even write a post one day for the person who wanted to know, “can I use the diva cup for military training” because that is IMPORTANT INFORMATION.

Clearly.

I like to joke that I have a penis, but in my jokes, it’s already big, thank you very much!

Have you ever been going about your business as usual, not hungry at all, and all of a sudden you want to eat everything within reach? Like, your appetite doubles times infinity plus seventy-eleven, in the blink of an eye?

Or, you want greek olives, peanut butter, apples, and tuna fish all at the same time? Along with your tropical punch flavored juice?

Yeah. That was me earlier this evening, and I have absolutely no reason why. And before your brain cells start rubbing up against each other all excitedly and “squeeing” as they trip over themselves, anxious to stimulate you hurriedly to suggest that I am pregnant, that’s gonna be a big N-O, Roger.

I can’t stop myself from interjecting here to say that every.single.time I see/hear/think the name “Roger” nowadays, I instantly hear an asian man’s voice saying, “Sorry, Rogah, you tigah now.”

And it makes me happy. Every time. Why is that so funny to me? Anyway…

See, certain things have to happen to make a baby. For a baby to get inside of a Mommy’s tummy, a Mommy and a Daddy have to love each other very much and then get really close to each other, and the Daddy has to hug the Mommy and then… Ok, you know what? This is going nowhere.

Ya’ll KNOW “How Babies Are Made.“  If you don’t, you are either too young to be reading this blog (I AM SO GOING TO TELL YOUR PARENTS!  YOU BETTER GO BACK TO NICKELODEON.COM RIGHT THIS MINUTE.) or you are not very bright, and in that case, perhaps it is for the best that you do not understand the whole process.  The rest of you are probably visualizing dirty bits and such now.

(Haha, I made you all think about doing it. Well, except for those of you who were already thinking about it anyway. Pervs. You know who you are. I see you over there, stop trying to hide and avert your eyes. Oh, I also see you, you who are making really, direct, uncomfortable eye contact with me and twitching a little. You are freaking me out. Stop that.)

Uh… so, what was I saying again? Oh yeah. I’m definitely NOT pregnant. I mean, John was on the west coast of the US while I was ovulating, and while he is.. uh… not lacking in the manly parts department by any stretch of the imagination, he isn’t THAT gifted.

And really, if there’s any wenis out there that can reach from California to Tennessee? I AM SCARED. Keep that thing away from me. Also, inform the owner of said Giganto Wenis that he could make a FORTUNE in endorsement ads for all those creepy companies that send me emails claiming that their product will enable me to “knock down walls with your penis!” and “tear her apart with your rod!”

For the record, knocking down walls with my penis would be really cool, tearing someone apart, not so much. Maybe work on that ad campaign a little. Possibly only send it out to violent rapist types. And people who ACTUALLY HAVE PENISES.

Also, I do routinely joke that I actually have a penis (it’s funny, I don’t care what you say)… and you know what?  Both my penis and I are pretty offended that I’m getting those emails at all.  How insulting!

I wonder if John gets emails for products that will enable him to crush a man’s head to a pulp with his cleavage?

It’s hard to believe I started this post by talking about my weird cravings considering where it has lead.

Maybe that’s what happens when you eat dried cherries and pork sausage together.  Hm.

Thoughts?