Once again it is that time to collect the search terms people used to (erm, erroneously) get to this website. Once again it’s time for: Search Term Bingo, baby.
when a satyr fucks an elf
This feels like something that fairy tale creatures have to tell their children.
“Well, son, when a satyr and an elf love each other very much, the satyr parts his rugged goat curtains and the elf warbles a lusty tune on his ocarina and they lay together on a downy unicorn pelt and the elf rubs his shillelagh against the goat-man’s musky haunches and that’s how you were born. Now go tell your lazy good-for-nothing elf-father that it’s time to stop watching the leprechauns wrestle because it’s dinner-time.”
i need interesting things to write about
I am eager to help you with this topic.
Here are a list of ten things that are interesting that you could write about. Ready?
- MONSTER TRUCKS FROM OUTER SPACE
- THE SEX TECHNIQUES OF MUMMIES
- CAT DANCES
- THE DANGERS OF HIGH FRUCTOSE FUCK SYRUP
- COCAINE SUBMARINES
- HOW TO PIMP YOUR MYSPACE PAGE WITH SWEET GLITTER JAMS
- TOP TEN BABOONS WHO ARE ALSO INTERNATIONAL SPIES
- METEOR ADDICTS
- WOMBATS, JUST WOMBATS
- FUCKING AWESOME SHIT
There you go. See? Super-easy.
Also, any of those double as: band names, album names, memoir titles, or nicknames.
daddy’s little naughty secret
I know, I know, you want Daddy’s Little Naughty secret to be like, “Ooh, he’s sticking it to the babysitter!” but really, it’s more like, “Uh-oh, Daddy sometimes lets the dogs babysit the toddler while he drinks beer and plays ten minutes of Call of Duty please don’t tell Mom.”
full powder purple scissor
This is the variant of LSD that killed Jimi Hendrix. True story.
“Devil beard.” Definition: smooth cheeks that contain no beard. For no beard is truly of the devil and thus the devil thrives on a face shorn of its potent godly locks. Usage: “Be wary, my friend, for I don’t trust that baby-cheeked lad. He’s got the devil beard, that one. The angels are not with him or his hollow, wan-fleshed countenance.”
how do I gain sex sense?
You first must be bitten by a radioactive sex monkey. And that will grant you the superheroic “sex sense” ability. You’ll run around and be all like, “YO MY SEX SENSE IS TINGLING” and everyone is all like, “Ew, put your boner away, weirdo, you’re getting pecker tracks on my doilies.” And then you use your magic super-boner to fling yourself into the night to fight heinous fuckery. I just saw this last night on Law & Order: SVU.
what do you call people who constantly stab you in the back?
I’m sure there’s gotta be a word for that. Hmm. Let’s see. Let’s noodle it. Stabberbackers? No. Knifeybacks? Hmm. Kidneypokers? That can’t be it. Gimme a few minutes.
scary short sentences
how much percent can get the pigeon?
This is some kind of code phrase, isn’t it? You’re using my blog like some kind of numbers station, aren’t you? What’s this mean? Who are you people? Russians? Ukranians? MOONSYLVANIANS? What happens if I don’t post this? Will the nukes launch? Will an ambassador to Grogflogistan be executed in the public square of St. Vicarspetersville? What happens if I do post this? Is the Cold War over? Restarting? Will you attack us with birds? Pigeons? Or is pigeon a metaphor? Are you trying to control my mind with the bird flu?
*begins swaddling self with aluminum foil*
*also Saran Wrap because why the fuck not*
fuck your life story show me your tits book
What is a “tits book?”
Is that a book that has tits on it? Just a drawing? Or maybe actual attached tits?
Jeez. That feels egregious. Are they lady tits? Man tits? And why is my life story not worth telling? Though, I suppose you’re right, if given the choice between publishing my life story and publishing a book that has a pair of boobs hanging off of it, I’m sure the publisher would just go with the boobie-book because, y’know, it’d sell. In fact, I’m sure in here somewhere is a metaphor for the entire publishing industry laid bare. Let’s not look too long.
beer shaped like boobs book
Wait, sorry, what were we talking about?
Something about boobs and books again?
Man, Internet, you have a singular mind.
do women poop on the toilet?
They do not. That’s why ladies go to the bathroom together. They poop into each others’ hands, then they all have a good healthy cry before depositing the poop in specially-marked poop urns. This all sounds very disgusting, but I assure you, lady-poops are the lightest, most delicate little things. They’re like little pink-frosted meringue cups. Lady-poops smell like roasted strawberries and Ugandan vanilla. When a lady poops, you thank her. You thank her.
peeing through bread
This is actually how you clean your pee. It’s also how you dirty your bread.
i’ve got scary dragon eyes
And I’ve got freaky goblin balls. TOGETHER WE WILL FIGHT CRIME.
when my mind is fucking my creativity
To get real for a second, that’s kind of the rub, isn’t it? Our minds are the places where our creativity is forged and where our stories grow and struggle to be born but it’s also in our mind that self-doubt lurks and skulks and darts out of the darkness to smother our creativity under its own sweaty monster flesh — in fact, we can be downright creative in the ways we try to defeat our own creativity, turning our narrative instincts inward to the darkened corridors where nightmare stories of rejection and fear and worthlessness hunt.
Creativity is weird that way. A snake with mouths at both ends.
protagonist and analingus
Holy crap, I hope you just misspelled “antagonist.”
If not, I hope your protagonist practices safe licking habits.
my novel is shit
Well, of course it is. All novels are shit at some point or another. But see, that’s the joy of the novel — it can always be unshitted. You have as much time as you need to deshittify your novel. You get as many attempts to unspackle the poop from your storytelling efforts. How many other careers offer just such a benefit? Except maybe, y’know, janitor? Sorry, sorry, “custodial engineer.” Which is also a synonym for “writer,” so. Uh. There’s that.
my wife is shit
Your wife is probably very lovely, now stop.
my life is shit
Now you’re just being dramatic. Go have some ice cream and cool down.
wendig sex porn
I’m assuming this is the last thing anybody wants. Some gallumphing bearded, bespectacled weirdo with inky mutts flailing while his pale cave cricket body is thrusting and shuddering and his tongue is licking sweat from his mustache while he attempts to also type another 1000 words at the same time he commits the heinous act that in no world could be called “lovemaking?” You’d destroy the whole internet. MAYBE THE WHOLE WORLD. Nobody wants to see me naked.
No. Really. Avert your gaze. Seriously. Because —
*whips off clothes, runs screaming through the 1s and 0s*
HA HA HA HA HA I WILL DESTROY IT ALL
IA IA WENDIG NUDE FTHAGN