I never fail to be amazed at the kind of searches that bring people to this little corner of the Internet.
I wrote about the Duggars once, speculating about the secret seductive powers of Michelle’s she-mullet. So about once a week, someone gets here by wondering if she is pregnant again. (For the record, I don’t know. But if she is, the mullet is to blame. Jim Bob cannot break free of its siren song.)
I also vented about my boy child’s opposition to wearing underwear. So a lot of people come here wondering about going commando or asking “what do I do about child who won’t wear underwear?”
I can’t help them, either. The “are you wearing underwear” question is STILL a regular morning inquiry here. But progress has been made. I no longer have to request to see the waistband. He just walks back to his room, defeated in his commando dreams.
I can offer no help for those wanting to find “good hippo porn,” “the best quizzes on Facebook,” or get a definitive answer on whether or swine flu is one of the signs of the apocalypse. I do not offer a “quiz to find out if I am about to go postal” (Aside to the determined searcher from Friday: I suggest a professional therapist).
I cannot tell you how long you would last in a fight against God or Jack Bauer, although I recommend you not quarrel with either. I do feel a little sad for the person who arrived here “searching for my lost happiness,” but I assure you, I do not have it. It’s probably hanging out with my size-6 ass, and my guess is, neither of us are ever going to find the two of them again. They’ve probably gone into the witness protection program together and are living on beach somewhere in the West Indies.
Sigh. I feel like a failure reading your search queries, Internet. I hear you as you go away, singing softly to yourself, “but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” Now, because of this, someone will search for information on Bono and instead, find this post. They, too, will go away empty handed. Please forgive me.
I *can* help a few searchers. For those who wonder “What will the puppies be like if I mate a Jack Russell and chihuahua?” — you know that cartoon character the Tazmanian Devil? Imagine him, only as nervous and trembling as a heroin dealer coming down off a trip in a room full of DEA agents. It’s not a combination the world needs.
I also have the answer to “the difference between naked and nekkid.” Naked means you’re not wearing any clothes, nekkid means you’re naked and up to no good. I know you can find a human-sized hamster ball at Hammaker Schlemmer. You definitely cannot get the swine flu from bacon.
However you got here, thanks for coming. Have a cookie, have a nice time, please come back.