Getcher Bingo Cards, Biznitches

horse fart in mouth fanfic

Boy, that’s a bold opener, innit?

Okay. Okaaaaay. Okay. Fanfic? That’s what’s throwing me off, here. Fanfic. Fanfic means, “I am a fan of this.” And it usually refers to a pop culture property. Like, Sherlock Holmes fanfic. Avatar the Last Airbender fanfic. What’s Happening Now? fanfic. Is “Horse Fart In Mouth” a movie? A series of YA books? Perhaps a classic 1950s television show that never made it to syndication? “Oh ho ho! Another hilarious episode of Horse Fart In Mouth! Doris Day, you so funny. And Fess Parker as the horse!”

how to trim your beard like a gentleman

To properly trim one’s beard like a gentleman, a true gentleman, you must use the sharp bitey teeth of a civet cat. Then, when the cat digests and, erm, evacuates your beard hairs from his gastrointestinal system, you must brew those acid-stripped beard hairs into a strong tea, and you must — must! — force someone of a lesser social echelon to drink that tea. Like say, a movie theater usher. Or someone who drives old people around. When they drink the strong beard-tea, you must watch. And golf clap. And fiddle with your privates, but in the way a gentleman might. (With soft gloves and fingers scented with zebra musk.)

where does the term spitballing come from

It comes from deep in the jungles of Pango Pango.

Now, maybe you meant, “Why do they call it spitballing?” but that’s not my department. Also, learn how to ask a question, you moob. Yes, that’s right. I just called you a man boob. What? Whaddya gonna do?

don’t drink the pirate juice

Fuck that. Drink the pirate juice.

goofy douche

Guilty! You found me. I am, indeed, the goofy douche of myth and legend.

I might just change the website’s address:

doubleyou doubleyou doubleyou dot goofy hyphen douche dot orrrrg.

You have to overpronounce the “orrrrrrg,” because that’s what goofy douches do.

quiet shotgun

Kind of ruins the fun of a shotgun, don’t you think? Me, I like a loud shotgun. Shotguns are as much about the sound and fury as they are the chest-exploding awesome. Then again, I will admit that it might be fun to have the shotgun whisper a quiet exhalation of birdshot — kind of a light insectile cough, kaff-kaff — and then blow a dude’s heart out the back of his body. It’s like, “Oh! Holy shit! Nobody expected that!” Which I think is the definition of irony? Something that nobody expects? In that case, I think the fact I just pooped my britches is a surefire case of irony. *leans in* What’s that? You totally expected that? Oh. Oh, okay. Nevermind, then. Irony canceled!

can sizer tale baby birds have oatmeal?

I… wh… uhh.

S… sizer?


Baby birds?

Sizer tale baby birds.


What the fuck is a “sizer tale baby bird?” And why are you trying to feed it oatmeal? That shit is probably a velociraptor, yo. Watch out. They don’t eat oatmeal. They eat the human hands offering them oatmeal.

obi wan kenobi’s 4real name

Here I thought “Obi-Wan Kenobi” was his real name. Then I thought, “Well, maybe it’s something embarrassing, like OBI-GYN Kenobi? And he just changed it so people didn’t Force-throw rocks at his head?” Y’know, at the Jedi Academy, the other goofy douche padawans are like, “Hahaha, here comes Obi-Gyn Kenobi again! Stupid Jedi gynecologist! Let’s stuff his robe with Bantha poodoo and throw him into the Sarclacc pit again.”

But then I did some research, and it turns out: his real name is Steve Wyznocki.

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

The other half is sodomizing the corpses of your enemies.

Also, I now hope to receive a plethora of “Jedi gynecologist” search term hits.

*crosses fingers, giggles, urinates*

will a barn owl attack you if you are looking at its owlets?

Oh yeah. Lawds yes. Owls are cranky as shit. If you lift one up and look at his little owl footsies? You’ll see he’s wearing bonafide cranky pants. Weird thing is, they can even sense when you’re looking at them on the Internet. No joke. When I started watching that Owl Box thing? With Molly the Owl and her owlets? The owl whore attacked me. First she was at the window, clawing at the glass. I gave her the finger and I was like, “Suck it, owl! My human domicile is protected by human ingenuity!” But then the owl came in through the chimney and was all like, “Hoo! Hoo! Scream! Screech!” which I translated to mean, “Where’s your human ingenuity now, you pink monkey bastard! I came in through your fireplace! A fireplace invented by humans! Owls win! Now get the hell away from my owl babies or I’ll tear your tongue out your mouth!”

meaning of a spirit bone

“To have sex with a spirit.” Works in instances of fornicating with ghosts as well as doing the spectral rumpy-pumpy with the ephemeral entities of Mother Nature. Like, were you to give it good and hard to a Forest Sprite? That’s a spirit bone. Same as if you got down and dirty with a howling poltergeist.

Actually, I have a collection of old porno VHSes you might want to look at: Spirit Bone, Volumes One Through Forty-Seven. It’s a little Blair Witchy, but they’re still kinda hot.

fuking while make pee

I just don’t have the words. And apparently, neither do you.

i forgot your hooks

Well, I forgot your hemmorhoid cream and your copy of Field and Stream. Guess we’re even.

rick carroll in plane crash

What’s weird is, as you’ll see with the next three search term items, popular commenters here at terribleminds have started to show up in my search terms. This one predicts that Friend of Terribleminds, Rick Carroll, will be in a plane crash. You heard ‘em, Rick: stay away from planes for the rest of your life. Go boat, go donkey, go hot air balloon, go ornithopter, just stay away from planes. For reals.

Though, maybe he was already in one. That would explain why he hasn’t been around here very often, and frankly, it’s a pretty good excuse. “Sorry haven’t commented much — been in a plane crash, kind of sucked, kthxbye.” You ask me, it’s a better excuse than, “I am addicted to Starcraft 2,” or, “Your beard smells like spoiled yogurt.” Which is true, but I’d rather not talk about that.

andrea phillips drinks utah

And another one. Andrea Phillips “drinks Utah.” Like, she drinks the whole state? She goes all kaiju on their Mormon asses and just guzzles the whole state like it was a glass of Vitamin Water? Or is it just shorthand for, “When Andrea Phillips drinks, she goes to Utah.” Which would then suggest that Andrea is a fan of needless bureaucracy, since drinking in Utah is (or at least used to be) a righteous pain in the ass.

All I do know is that we should all band together and maybe have an intervention with Andrea. “Andrea,” we’ll all say in our caring cult-like voices, “you should really stop turning into a giant kaiju monster, pulverizing parts of Utah into a liquidy mash, then drinking it.” Someone, maybe Rick if he’s done with this ‘plane crash’ bullshit, will add: “We think you have a problem. So, y’know, fix it or we’ll stop loving you.”

doyce sexi sexi

You heard it here first: Doyce Testerman is sexi sexi.

i crave vinegar is that ok

It is not okay. That is a symptom of butt parasites.

how do you know when your ready for a beard?

You know you’re ready for a beard when you stop confusing your with you’re, dumbass. Beards don’t fare well on fools. They buck and bolt like bee-stung camels.

would you help me to understand its not my day

I would not. That’s somebody else’s job. We’re not all here for you, you know. You solipsistic sonofabitch. It’s (not its) not your day? So what? Don’t care. Waaah. Boo-hoo. Go cry on somebody else’s shoulder. Like I don’t have problems of my own? It’s not my day either. Actually, my day is technically August 5th (“Chuck Wendig Day!”) but this year nobody celebrated it so I celebrated it myself with a bottle of rot-gut gin, a Spongebob marathon, and a .38 revolver with naught but one bullet in the cylinder.

how to paint maples and bamboos together

I’m an artist. I got this. Here’s what you do: first? Paint a maple. Then? Next to it? Paint some goddamn bamboo. Boom. Boom. Maples and bamboos together. And you did it. You painted that shit. Nice work. High-five. Let’s go grab a smoothie and some prostitutes.

have you seen a girl with hair like this

I have.

would you help me to understand its not

I will not. Ask the girl with the hair.

what does to pick your brain mean

It’s like “pick your nose,” but, y’know, with a brain instead. You can’t do it with a finger, though, so you have to use some kind of long wiry implement. Like, say, a long wire implement. Or a fishing rod. Or a car antenna. I use the car antenna because sometimes I pick up AM radio stations. I mean, sure, AM radio stations suck nuts, but at least it’s something. The novelty wears off, but whatever.

ghoul vagina

Band or album? Or the band’s biography title?

how to write talkings between character

Goddamn you’re an asshole. I hate you. Stop asking me questions. “Talkings between character?” Who are you, Jackoff Smirnov? “In Soviet Russia, talkings between characters talk you!” … okay, that doesn’t make any sense. Shut up. Leave me alone. And hand me that revolver with one bullet.

one word pick me ups

Here are several:










weird ways to make oatmeal

Here are several:

Cook it in a dirty jockstrap!

Mix in rusty nuts and bolts!

Run it through the gastrointestinal tract of a civet cat!

In the toilet!

In a microwave powered by a donkey pedaling a bike!

In the gas tank of a Husqvarna lawn mower!

With moon rocks and fairy blood!

if you were married to a pirate what might you recieve for a gift

Probably a jug of pirate juice, which is basically just gasoline mixed with rubbing alcohol and parrot urine. But that’s okay because dayum will that shiznit get you high, son. Wait, “high” means “dead,” right? In pirate speak? Like, “Arr, Me Hearties, let us imbibe this grog and get high in our graves!” I dunno. What I do know is that if somebody asks if they should drink the pirate juice, the answer is Fuck Yes.


    • I know, right? I mean, I get where some of them come from: I have posts about piracy, owls, and oatmeal. But the context is what’s staggering. Or the lack of context in some cases.

  • Actually, if I’m not mistaken, sexi sexi is Polynesian street slang for “two dollars”.

    That’s what the hoo– ahh.

    That’s what the locals told me.

    Weird coincidence, that.

  • (Hey Chuck… dude… if anyone actually emails you with that search term as a subject line, just… you know… mark it as spam. It’s fine. You don’t know anything about it, right? Right.)

    (If anyone calls you, you should… wow. Yeah. Maybe just take the dogs for a quick walk. Or run. Maybe a run.)

    (No one else can see the comments in parentheses, right?)

  • I knew there was something about Doyce I liked, but I just couldn’t find the words for it. I feel all enlightened and aroused all of a sudden.

    After seeing these search terms, I’m a lot less scared of those clicks from a site about male yeast infections that my blog had recently.

  • You can stage an intervention for Andrea if you want. I’m going to be at her other party encouraging her to go all kaiju and destroy Utah. That stuff needs to get taped and go up on youtube somehow. Then I’ll take her to Brooklyn and get her in Kaiju Big Battel. She’ll totally fuck up Dr. Cube.

    • Holy crap, Matt — what a great find!

      “Sorry, I didn’t kill my wife. It was that goddamn owl. I was all looking at her owlets and shit, and next thing you know, bam! Dead wife. Call off the hounds, officers. I got your perp right over there with the Tootsie Roll pop.”

      – c.

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