July Search Terms

I know I am a few days late with this one. And my last post was a bit of a cop out too. I promise I am writing wondrous things and working on my weird crafty little projects. But here it is. This months search terms:


You fucking my sister: I am imagining this as being said by a young Robert De Niro. YOU fucking MY sister?!


The shit roach killer: Well, I don’t know if I am the shit, but let me tell you guys a quick and terrible story. It was 1am on my birthday morning. I had stayed up till midnight to be the first person to wish myself happy birthday. I woke up and felt something tickling my neck. I brushed it away, thinking it was a stray hair. I shed like a golden retriever. But it was still tickling. Moving even. I jumped up and brushed it away even harder. In the dim light I could make out a black shape crawling across my sheet. Now I was wide the fuck awake! I jumped to my lamp and grabbed my glasses. I knew it had been a giant roach on me. And I would not rest until it was found. I go looking for it and the fucker ran right at me. I freak out and grab a shoe to kill it and it magically disappears. So then, I am looking around, trying to find this thing. And I cant. So I am hunting around, frantically, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. The roach is on the ceiling now. I try to smack it down with the shoe and it flies right at my face. I try to smack it away and knock my glasses off my face. Then I hastily put them back on and it is gone again. So I am losing it now, thinking it is on me. I start mussing up my hair and it isn’t there. So I grab the front of my shirt and shake it. The roach was on my shirt! ON my shirt! Ugh. It was like a horror movie. So I crush it with the shoe (grinding it’s guts into my quilt). And all the while I am whispering “Fuck you. You fucking roach fucker.” And then I couldn’t sleep because I was so full of adrenaline and fear. And I had to take a shower and wash my sheets and my glasses. I stayed up till 6am. It wasn’t the best beginning to my birthday.


Cockblock perish, Venice FL: There’s a Cockblock Parish in Venice FL? Between that and the giant rats, I think I need to visit this place.

Hollow tooth from under: From under what? The stairs? The ground? It’s like the title of a Goosebumps novel.


Animal Zoo Vegina (sic) xray: Okay, I have to admit, this made me curious too. It is a thing.

Is it just me or does this look a lot like the ghost trap in Ghostbusters?


A sugar mummy fucked by his real brother: This is just, intriguing. Is it like a sugar mummy like a sugar skull from the Day of the Dead celebration? Or are you looking for porn about rich mummies?


I had sex with him, in an orange grove: Internet high five!


Apartment maggots Maine: Can you please email me this story, search term searcher? I love maggot stories!


Ken doll genitalia: I think Ken’s genital bump really confused a lot of little girls. And probably some boys too. What the hell Mattel?


An xray skeletons that spells happy birthday: You know me all too well.


I feel like I’m in a Twilight Zone blackside trash song: You know what, I don’t even know exactly what this mean, but me too. Me too.


Why men mastermate (sic) with Barbie dolls: Men; #1 Do you guys ‘mastermate’ with Barbie dolls? #2 Why?


“search my vagina”: I don’t know why this is in quotes, but I feel so tempted to use this at some point in the very near future.


Co-worker: Why would anyone put mustard on spaghetti? (A Co-worker did this recently and I was baffled.)

Me: Search my vagina.


June Search Terms


A new month is upon us and don’t think I’ve forgotten what that means. More search terms! There were plenty of horrifying, incestuous porn search terms once again this month.


This is also the month of my birth and I am going to be 30 on the 20th. I can’t wait! I know some people freak out when they turn 30. But for me, it is something to celebrate. There was a time when I wasn’t sure I’d make it to 27. I always say getting older is better than the alternative.


Some people came across my blog by specifically looking for me. Or nude pics of me. Either way, I’ve come a long way baby.  Also, let me know if you find any nudes of me. I want to make sure I make a good showing.


Now, on to those search terms:


Life Lesson in a Blow Pop: I’m pretty sure the lesson is that it only takes three licks to get to the center of anything. Oh, wait, that’s Tootsie Roll Pops. Nobody is in a rush to get to the center of a Blow Pop because that gum sucks.


Barbie Drag King: Did you guys know that my official Drag King name is Maurice?


Exchange student doesn’t love me back: It happens to the best of us. I hope my story about losing my virginity eased your pain.


Zoo vagina: I feel like I should be offended. While I do talk about my vagina a lot, I never talk about zoos. Oh wait, I did that one time. Carry on.


Gushers eat each other commercial: They really aren’t using cannibalism enough in advertising.


Horror movie about a woman who goes crazy in a zoo: I feel like this is a little harsh, Google. I didn’t go crazy, I just realized I never wanted children.


awesome nude pics (a little bit safe) that are cartoons: What an oddly specific request. Why bother looking at nude pics if they are a little bit safe?


Are teeth hollow: No, rest assured, only mine are hollow.


Fucking worlds most prettiest elder sister: I am going to just take this and run. Thank you, Google. That totally made up for the going crazy search term earlier.


My dog came inside and puked a bunch of maggots: Hahaha! Now THAT should be in a horror movie!


When a woman eats cabbages and potatoes so much can her pussy have a bad smell: Um, I hadn’t heard that. But I wonder exactly how much cabbages and potatoes you are eating that this is a concern.


Fucking vomiting on the beach: That’s one place I have not vomited. Yet.


Who had a crush on Li Shang: I’m pretty sure the answer to that is everyone.


Cosmic Owl dream: Dude, those things are real. I’m telling you.
Sex tape in Taco Bell restroom: I really don’t want to perpetuate the pervy search terms on this blog. But I would totally watch this. Now I must find it. Of course, it will only lead me to my own blog and create some kind of wormhole that will destroy the entire universe. And that’s how the world ends, with Taco Bell porn.


Adventures in Blogging

I’m doing a picture heavy post today:


I had an adventure with the lovely and hilarious Debbie from morethansweetpotatoes. If you haven’t read her blog, go read it. And if you are a dude in South Florida, step up your game. She is awesome.


As I have previously mentioned, I am not very funny in person. Mostly just awkward. But I gave her fair warning so she knew what to expect.


We met at an animal sanctuary called Arnold’s Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. I warned her that the drive in was down a bunch of creepy back roads. But then you turn a corner and it is like some kind of children’s movie with deer and peacocks and butterflies.

If you live near here, please take the trip.

If you live near here, please take the trip.


I know there are a lot of jokes about all the bugs in Florida. It’s love bug season here right now. There were so many that one flew into my open mouth while I was singing. A second one splattered on my glasses. And yes, I do have a windshield.


The carnage.

The carnage.


This place is in the middle of a bunch of cow farms and dilapidated buildings that look like something out of a horror movie. Debbie is a very brave and adventursome woman. I don’t think I would have been willing to meet up with an internet stranger in the middle of nowhere. Especially after all my serial killer jokes.


Yeah... This was a gun shop on my way there.

Yeah… This was a gun shop on my way there.



And miles and miles of this as far as you can see. Perfect murdering conditions.

And miles and miles of this as far as you can see. Perfect murdering conditions.


But once you get there. It is a crazy zoo of animals roaming free. Mostly exotic. I took lots of pictures.


There were about 15 peacocks all doing their awesome cry. If you haven’t heard it, please look it up. It’s kind of disturbing and kick-ass.


He was kind of pissy, actually.

He was kind of pissy, actually.



He kept hugging his tail. I think he had anxieties.

He kept hugging his tail. I think he had anxieties.


This guy looked like a muppet.

This guy looked like a muppet.


We weren’t allowed to pet any of the animals as they apparently ALL bite. But after asking, we were allowed to bottle feed two adorable fawns!

I just wanted to squeeze it to death!

I just wanted to squeeze it to death!


Debbie’s seemed to prefer suckling my finger to drinking it’s bottle. Maybe my finger tastes amazing. I don’t know.


Then we drove out to Lake Okeechobee and picked our way down through the rocks to touch the lake. I am not very graceful and I have terrible balance. I looked more like a drunken giraffe stumbling my way down. I even had to get on all fours at one point to avoid potentially killing myself.


Lake Okeechobee selfie with Debbie.

Lake Okeechobee selfie with Debbie.

And after that we had some BBQ. Which I am obsessed with. So it was a pretty perfect day.


PS I was so tempted to name this post ‘Debbie does Lake Okeechobee.’ You’re welcome.


Child free

When I was four or five my oldest sister had a Cabbage Patch doll. One day, my family went to the zoo. For some unfathomable reason I wanted to take my sister’s Cabbage Patch doll with me. I don’t particularly like dolls, but I must have thrown a serious fit. Because my mother made my sister let me take it.

Dolls really are creepy.

Dolls really are creepy.

The doll had a cute little outfit with red rubber shoes and a full size doll stroller. I lugged this damn thing around the zoo all day. It was the biggest pain in the ass. Trying to keep track of the doll. Making sure it didn’t get stolen. Fucking with the stroller in the tight spaces.

I was terrified of my older sister. She was 10 years older. She was beautiful, and mean, and cold, and other-wordly. She was like a volatile goddess. We don’t speak anymore. But this is how I still imagine her. And her doll was not being damaged on my watch.

High school photo of my sister.

High school photo of my sister.

At one point during the day, I noticed that the doll’s shoe had fallen off somewhere. This launched me into an anxiety ridden panic. I retraced my every step till I found it.

I was miserable the whole day. I didn’t enjoy my experience at the zoo. I actually hate zoos now, for unrelated reasons. I had spent the whole day worried about this fucking doll.

And then I looked around me, at all these women, with babies in strollers. And I realized, this was their life. My experience at the zoo was the life of having a child. I would never enjoy anything I did ever again once I had children. I would be a slave to the anxiety and worry. And not only that; but a child would have it’s own will. It would go out of it’s way to be intrusive and obnoxious.

I thought all of those things, at 5 years old. And I vowed, right then and there, to never have children.

For the past 24 years people have told me that I would change my mind. ‘Once I had a boyfriend. Once I got married. Once I was 18. Once I was 25. Once I was 30.’ I have never wavered. I have only become more and more convinced that children are not right for me.

Let me say here: I love children. I love my nieces and nephews. I love my friends’ children. Children like me too. But having children is NOT the right choice, FOR ME.

I began trying to to get my tubes tied when I was 18. Every year I go to a new OB/GYN and every year they refuse. Once I started having heart issues my cardiologist told me I should never have children as it would probably kill me. I told him that I was way ahead of him.

Then I found my current OB/GYN. And he is amazing. He actually believed that I knew what I wanted for myself and my life. It only took me 10 years. And he recommended me to someone that could do the procedure.

The day of the procedure was the same day as my court hearing to get a restraining order against my ex boyfriend (which will be the subject of another post). The procedure was in the morning and the hearing was in the afternoon. I figured I’d have no problem making it to both. Especially since neither could be rescheduled. And because I am a complete idiot.

WARNING: This post is about to have graphic language involving lady parts.

The night before the procedure I had to insert a pill into my vagina as far as I could get it to go. It would help soften my cervix for the procedure the next day. I thought I knew what to expect with the procedure because they had done a test run the month previously.

The worst part about it the first time was when they ripped a one inch chunk of my uterine wall out for testing with no anaesthesia. But they wouldn’t be doing that this time. And yes, I cried.

I wouldn’t be able to drive after the procedure because I’d be hopped up on vicodin and valium (which I secretly thought would make the court proceedings much more enjoyable). So my best friend, C, and her husband drove me to the OB/GYN. I was wearing my trusty pajama outfit from this story, but had brought a change of clothes for court.

The nurse called me back and observed me taking my drugs. She and I had previously begun a long relationship via multiple phone calls in which I made wildly inappropriate jokes. She had not once laughed at a single thing I had ever said.

The drugs kicked in and I asked if my friend could come back and join me. The nurse, B,  said yes, asked if my friend would want to see me so exposed. I told her C was pregnant and we had a deal. She’d be in here for this and I’d be in the hospital for her delivery. B said not till we started the procedure.

I pulled out my cell phone and texted C. I was really drugged up.

Me: Something in this room smells amazing. And I don’t know what it is.

C: Are you alone in there?

Me: I am right now. I am going to start smelling things till I figure out what that smell is.

C: You are in a gynecologists office! Do not smell random things! You don’t know where they’ve been.

Me: Actually I do. Vaginas.

Me: False alarm. It was my hair. They have a 3-d vagina puzzle back here that I am playing with. Bring my purse back so I can steal it.

3-D Vagina model!

3-D Vagina model!

The nurse walked in and I had my phone out. She gave me a shot in the butt and said it was time. I had a rather important question to ask her and the drugs had kicked in just enough for me to do so. “So, how long do I have to wait before having sex after this procedure?” I asked, B.

“Well, you really should wait 3 months before you start having unprotected sex. We will need to test you to make sure your tubes are fully blocked.”

“Yes, I know three months for my tubes to be blocked.  But I mean sex, in general.”

“In general you can’t have unprotected sex because you are still at risk for pregnancy.”

The OB/GYN, S, came in and so did some strange man who turned out to be the Essure representative. This was after my heart surgeries when I long ago stopped feeling things like shame.

“I know how babies are made. I’ve had sex many, many times before and not gotten pregnant. I just want to know how long I have to wait, after the procedure to have sex again.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have unprotected sex at all…”

I interrupted her. “Let me make this easier. When can I masturbate again?”

She flushed and mumbled, “One week.”

During the Essure procedure they opened me up with a speculum, then inserted a bunch of dilators into my cervix. Then they pumped my uterus full of saline solution and stuck a light and a camera in there. It was like the flooded movie set of a disaster film.

Like this, only mine were longer.

Like this, only mine were longer.

If I turned slightly I could see the inside of my uterus over my shoulder. The first spring got in my fallopian tube in less than 5 minutes. The spring blocks the tube and irritates it which causes the body to create scar tissue which eventually completely blocks the tube. It’s like a gross human pearl with a spring in the center instead of a grain of sand.

This is shoved in my Fallopian tubes.

This is shoved in my Fallopian tubes.

I suddenly thought of an idea. “Can I get one of you to take a picture of my vulva with all these dilators and cords sticking out? I really want to know what that looks like.”

B responded. “No. We can’t do that. That’s an invasion of your privacy.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s my phone and I want the picture.”

“We still can’t.”

“Well, call C in here so she can.”

But they wouldn’t. I keep getting medical staff with no sense of humor.

Apparently my second fallopian tube is weirdly twisted. They tried to get the tube in for over an hour. I was in complete agony and crying. They had dilated my cervix too much and I was losing saline solution. So much so that they ran out of it.

We had to reschedule for the next month. I walked out to the waiting room in agony and was crying. I was nauseous from the pain and was wearing a giant medical pad to catch all the saline solution that was leaking out. I was a mess.

And if we didn’t leave right then, I was going to miss my court hearing. But that is a story for another post.