God Save the Bream
Ok, I admit it. The title has nothing at all to do with this post. In fact, it has little meaning beyond being a play on the title of a song. The reference will be understood by only a few privileged folk, and I hope the version of the song that first comes to mind is the result of an album that included such smash hits as “Who Killed Bambi.”
I’m just looking forward to seeing what kind of search results land people here thanks to that particular title.
I once had a dream of writing an entire post with almost nothing but search terms from my statistics. Until today.
See, Wordpress is kind enough to tell me how people find me. And though I find it disturbing that some search for things about children peeing (I have since made that post private – ew), I’m not terribly surprised.
But today?
While I confess it does reflect a certain nuance of my home, it’s really only partially accurate about any of us. A few of us, while sharing part of the description, are mature enough most of the time to not entirely belong under that search term.
What is it?
It’s “diapered mental patients.”
I click. I get here. And I start laughing. That seems to be the drill.
While I was cleaning the house on Saturday, I was blasting The Rock N’ Roll Swindle.
Good ol’ Ten Pole Tudor.
It would be cruel to list some of mine here (anal bleaching) because then you would start getting weird search terms on your blog (gallbladder surgery) and that would not be fair to you (narcolepsy).
[...] This post was Twitted by BarelyKnit – Real-url.org [...]
So I just checked my site’s recent search terms. I don’t want to put the creepiest one in because it will attract super weirdos to your site, but my site and I both need to take a shower now.
I had ‘anal probe granny’ yesterday. Do you think she offers you lemonade and cookies before or after?
I pray to God I’m not a granny – the girl has been dressing like a miniature lady of the night recently, but I’m fairly sure she’s self-interested enough not to get pregnant until I’ve paid off enough of the mortgage to do 99 per cent of the childcare.
As for anal probes…prices on application.
And thank you. Right back atcha.
Well, you’ll be happy to know that I found your blog, not by searching for it via google, but I found it the old fashioned way:
Through a comment you left elsewhere.
Nice blog.
Stupid (but sincere) question – should people be surprised by the search engine terms they receive. I read a post a while back by someone who was horrified that they were getting hits from people searching for “quiffing.”
A quick look at their posts for the prior week included tags and titles like “Hey, Quiffing time,” “Let’s Quiff” and “If you want to know all there is no about Quiffing but didn’t know where to find about Quiffing this would be the spot.”
By the way, I didn’t find the post via a “quiffing” search. Purely accidental….
I’ll start a new thread since the old one is wearing a little thin. I honestly don’t recall how they spelled it. It was from some nasty young people at a place called http://lazyeverdays.com/
I went back to check but honestly…I can’t stomach the place.
They are very intense and angst filled.
Anyway, enough of that.
I’ll take you on at TP any day!
Later Barefeet. Time for bed!
Shit, I’ve got my personas all mixed up.
It would have been even better to put the two word terms in quotes. Just to be extra sure.
When I was in high school, my bus driver had narcolepsy. He would fall asleep over and over at the wheel. When I told my parents, they made me keep riding the bus. They thought I just wanted to ride to school with my boyfriend. :/
I hear you, Bill. Honestly, I didn’t include the worst one either. For some reason I still end up with weirdos. I mean, have you read the comments around here? Whew.
Thanks for stopping in – great to see you in these parts.
Hey!
I resemble that remark.
I TOTALLY knew someone would go there! Figures it was you.
So – are you a granny? Or…nevermind.
Thanks for stopping by – love your work.
Ah – I have one of those young women who look of ill repute around here somewhere. I have two little boys, also, and I told my teen daughter’s boyfriend (on a particularly awful, rambunctious kid day) that in case he hadn’t noticed, the last thing we need around here is another baby. I think he got the point.
I offer my services to her friends’ parents as a living example of why birth control is an excellent idea.
The door was open. I walked in.
How quaint! And archaic! But I am awfully fond of Google, and wish they would recognize my immense talent. Okay, just kidding. Mostly. Welcome! And so you know, I have also visited your blog via a comment. Small world, my friend.
Well, I do like a nice pompadour, which is kind of quiff-ish, but I’m not sure I understand why someone would write about a Rockabilly hairdo, nor why it might be offensive. To each his own.
Well I’m embarrassed, first off, that I was unable to remember the correct term for vaginal flatulance. That’s a trivial pursuit question and I like to nail those down.
Really kills the jokes when you get the core word wrong.
Queef would appear to be the term…
And, yes, to each his own for sure. Thank God this is an older post…
For pete’s sake, Ram. One should certainly not be embarrassed about not knowing that term. I dare say you won’t need to worry about that sort of thing for the next 25 years or so anyway.
And to be perfectly honest, I thought that was how it was spelled also. I just thought it had two meanings.
But I am curious now – did the aforementioned blogger mean queef or quiff?
By the way, I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.
I can’t tell y’all apart anyway.