Today while refreshing my “site stats” page and crying inside, I realized it has been a long time since I have incorporated Google search terms* into a blog post. I was sadenned.
I thought to myself, there MUST be a way to do this! But I have done just about everything with a Google search term, short of getting impregnated by one. Surely I could not come up with another way! But then it hit me…
“Do you realize, Lena, that you are the only person who will find any of this funny?” I thought to myself, whilst navigating Paint on my company computer. And to that I say, “you know it, ho.”
So with that I give you this:
Mitt Romney, Unplugged
I’m laughing. Even if you’re not.
The girl with classy but ghetto orangutan titties
*Google search terms that led people to my blog, taken verbatim from my site stats page
I recently fell asleep on the toilet.
I’m not going to say where I was or how it happened, but I will tell you I was getting paid at the time and it wasn’t an accident. While I admit I am slightly ashamed of my inappropriate slumber, overall I feel pretty okay about it. After all, some people shower with kids at their jobs. I just fell asleep. Lena – 1, Penn State Staff – 0.
Still this has me slightly concerned. Not just about my evident narcolepsy but the fact that I am so un-stimulated at my current employment that I can disappear to the bathroom for ten minutes and nap without anyone in my three-person office noticing. Really makes one feel a sense of value in the American workforce.
Nevertheless, I have decided that I can’t let this happen again. If I’m going to disappear for ten minutes, unnoticed, I’d rather it be to do something really important like read US Weekly in the bookstore or talk to Butch, the new janitor who likes to wink at me while stroking his mop. Just kidding. I stroke it for him.
Nothing in the last paragraph is true.
Anyway. Today while driving home from work I started to think, which was a strange adjustment after five hours of not thinking at all, about all of the other people in the world who are as un-stimulated by their work as I am, and wondering how they handle it. It didn’t take a great deal of brain power to determine the answer to all of life’s inevitably dull moments.
Now, everyone knows that I have a special place in my heart reserved for people who Google ridiculous things, because more often than not they end up at my blog. I’m not sure how it happens. I’m not sure how the search phrase “sometimes I feel sad and then I remember I have a nice big round ass” brings someone to my blog. But it does and it makes me happy.
So when I got home I decided to review all of the Google search terms that brought people to my blog in the past month, and much to my irrational level of happiness, I discovered that many a lost soul has reached my blog through deep, heart-wrenching, questions entered in the Google search box, only to be lost in the abyss of porn and pictures of cats that make up 96% of the content of the Internet.
Because of this, I have decided that I will take this time to respond to only the most imperative of questions my blog was formerly unable to answer. Here we go.
1. How tall is Kris Jenner?
Kris Jenner is 5 feet of unfortunate fertility and 6 inches of erectile dysfunction.
2. What are the worst things for a man to say to woman?
Woman: “Do these jeans make me look fat?”
Man: “Not as much as the ones you wore yesterday.”
Man: “It’s a lucky man that gets her pregnant.”
Woman: “That’s our daughter you’re talking about!”
3. Do Italians like skinny or curvy women?
Italians aren’t selective. They love women. All women. In fact, Italian men love women so much that by default, one gay Italian man will have more heterosexual sex in one month than four straight Jewish men will in their entire lives. I didn’t just make this up.
But realistically, every woman will have sex with at least one Italian man in her life. If she doesn’t she might be a lesbian, but is probably just a Mormon. In which case she will have lots of unsatisfying arranged sex with a much older man she is possibly related to, enough times that she will decide she hates all men, including Italians.
PS: Sorry, Mormons.
4. Why is it that that other woman has big legs?
An evolutionary defense against short Italians. And all Mormons.
5. Why is my urine very orange?
There are only three reasons urine is ever orange.
A. You have liver disease. Good luck with that
B. You eat too many carrots. F*** you.
C. You live in New Jersey. All of the above
6. Who is that tattooed man drinking coffee and wearing a pea coat?
It’s difficult to say without seeing the man in question, but nine times out of ten, it’s Taylor Lautner pretending to be straight.
7. How can I tell if a girl is wearing a butt pad?
Her butt cheeks are disproportionate to her desperation.
8. Are meth addicts proud of their addiction?
9. Why do I curse so much?
Because socially forbidden words are more satisfying to use than academically impressive ones.
And you know once you’re old it will be really funny.
10. What is it like to live alone with a pet dog?
Depressing. No one else you ever live with will love you so much they will hold their pee for 9 hours until they see you. It’s all downhill from there.
That’s all for now.
The girl with tan shoes and pink shoelaces
Tonight I was going to make history. Break barriers. Conceive urban legends. I was planning to compose a literary masterpiece of such insane blogliness that it would knock the metaphoric socks off of yo’ asses (not physically possible) through a saga of witty ramblings about inane bullshit that would turn up in response to some very desperate Google search. (Apparently a lot of people ask Google if it’s strange to crumple their toilet paper. See below, son!)
But no. As I sit in my sister’s overheated non air conditioned second floor apartment, with her 17 pound cat by my side, I am in wonder, absolute God-fearing WONDER at what I have just discovered.
Apparently there is something known as: Microsoft Word 2010.
I was just sitting here, innocent as a virgin lamb, braiding my curly locks and singing When You Wish Upon a Star when I saw it. Right there on the desktop screen of my sister’s archaic piece of machinery she calls a laptop, the icon screamed to me with a banchee’s echoing cries fading in the distance.
Micrsoft (soft, soft, soft, soft)
Word (word, word, word, word)
How is this happening? How did my dear sister get caught in this never ending, high-priced trap of constant updating and upgrading? Did she pay for this hogwash? Illegally pirate this gobbledygook? Did she want it, or was she forced into it by a third party? My dear sweet sister. The thought makes me want to run into a knife.
So in honor of her, victim forever to the Microsoft machine, I dismiss my previous topic (I’m lying, I had no topic planned) and focus solely on what I think is a crisis. A silent killer. An epidemic of astronomical proportions.
The raging jihad between those who upgrade and those who do not.
Ok, I admit. Raging jihad is a small exaggeration. But still! There is most definitely a cultural divide here. While some people teeter on the line between casual iTunes updater and committed Droid user, I find that most lean more loyally in one direction or another. So it is those loyal leaners I will focus on in tonight’s blog.
Because truth be told, I don’t believe my sister intentionally did this. I’m sure when her guard was down, in a moment of weakness, someone forced it upon her. She certainly wasn’t asking for it!
You know how tech junkies can be. All you need is someone to help clear your search history so no one finds out how frequently you search Google Image for pictures of flamingos in tutus, and suddenly they are changing your wallpaper, mouse speed, and upgrading programs you didn’t know existed. You are confused and overwhelmed and they say things like “cookies” and “virus protection” and “who watches amputee porn?” and you can’t help but tell them to just do what they need to do. Get in, get off, get out. Wam Bam, no thank you ma’am. I digress…
Point is, like a Catholic high school valedictorian caught up in a sexting scandal, this was not her idea. My sister fits comfortably, if not entirely in the non-upgrading category. She has two pairs of shoes: sandals and clogs. She uses my mother’s discarded laptop with a crack down the left side of the screen. She mends ripped jeans with patches derived from Salvation Army purchases. She’s a cool, laid back, chick who would not be caught dead with an iPhone and probably thinks a Kindle is a new brand of dog food.
She has nothing in common with the upgrading type.
The upgrading type comes in various forms. The aforementioned tech junkie, busting a nut over every new form of technology introduced to the world. The “I’m lower middle class but want to pretend I’m upper middle class, so let me take this second mortgage to pay for my iPad 2 and my children’s unnecessary private school education” type. And of course the everyday hardworking American who chooses to simply purchase the items he/she has earned the right to own. All very different, the only thing these versions of the upgrading type have in common is the agreement that the program/product in question actually needs upgrading. This is where I run into problems.
I have a hard time understanding, let alone justifying why Apple introduces a new iPhone every 36 hours, or what the difference is between 3G and 4G, or why Word 2010 is necessary when I have yet to even update to 2007. I write a lot. 2003 has yet to let me down.
So why reader? Why do some people find value in upgrading their technology while others do not? Same reason I buy new vinyl and scoff at digital downloading. Some people are just cooler and smarter than others. I am one of those people.I know you don’t need to update your technology to be just as superficial and materialistic as the “woo girl” wearing Uggs and cut off shorts in December. I know that by simply placing too much value on any product of your choosing, you can accomplish the same level of sheep-like product loyalty at a fraction of the cost of new Apple products. Buying things with money you do not have is comforting and fun! But being sucked into the idea that you need to buy something because Steve Jobs makes it available to you is not. Instead of focusing your debt building energies on products you are told you should have, why not pick something more tailored to your individuality? Like ceramic armadillo figurines or dashboard hula girls. Or in my case vinyl records and concert tickets.
Why is it so important to not get sucked into this belief that we need to spend our borrowed money on products we are told to love? I’ll tell you why.
Or maybe I won’t.
It’s 3:59 a.m.
Why am I still awake, updating this blog?
I give up. I’m throwing in the towel. Popping my own cherry. No boy will ever want me with these braces and blackheads. I hate my body! Cry, cry, cry.
Have fun deciphering the hidden meaning of this poorly versed conclusion sentence.
Feedback is encouraged, as well as monetary donations and Auto Zone Coupons. I need wiper blades.
The girl whose commitment to this blog should be ridiculed on an hourly basis