Search Term Bingo Peed In Your Gas Tank

So, if you don’t know the drill, here it is: I periodically collect the strange search terms people use to get to terribleminds. Then I list them here and add, erm, “commentary.”

Please to enjoy.

selfpublishing is for losers

YEAH. SELF-PUBBERS DROOL, TRAD-PUBBERS RULE WOOOOO

*vomits in a potted plant*

Self-publishing is for losers, sure.

Happy, independent, occasionally wealthy losers.

when writing a zombie novel how long should a girl’s hair be

Whoo. Man. Holy shitbadgers.

That’s a tough fucking question. This is the kind of writing problem that the greats have struggled with — Tolkien, Tolstoy, Dan Brown, E.L. James, that one guy who wrote the Bible.

But I think it’s time someone took a stand on this question. I generally think that writing advice is a YMMV IMHO situation, but this? This has to be dealt with once and for all.

In a zombie novel, a girl’s hair should be 17 inches.

There. It’s done. I’ve made the rule. Bulletproof. Insurmountable. TRUTH.

*drops mic*

*falls into the orchestra pit*

*is eaten by tuba zombies*

woobly fat

I don’t know what this means. It’s probably some NSA code word. “Project: Woobly Fat is on deck, Sinister Star Chamber Overlord.” Does the NSA have a Sinister Star Chamber? They jolly well should. All I know is, “Woobly Fat” is a phrase I want to say again and again. It’s fun to say. It has great mouthfeel. Woobly fat. Woobly fat. Woobly fat. It can’t lose all meaning because it had no meaning to begin with. Woobly fat. Woobly fat. Tuba zombies. Tuba zombies.

fuck your fucking fantasy novel

YEAH SERIOUSLY FUCK IT. FUCK YOUR PIECE OF SHIT FANTASY NOVEL WITH ITS ELVES AND, AND, AND YOU KNOW, IT’S ELVES. ALL THOSE HOBBITS RUNNING AROUND PLAYING HOBBIT GRAB-ASS. WHAT A DUMB BOOK YOU WROTE. FUCK IT WITH A BIG OL’ DRAGON DONG THAT’S HOW MUCH I HATE IT. OR MAYBE I LOVE IT AND THAT’S WHY I WANT TO MAKE LOVE TO IT. I DON’T KNOW. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF ANGER OVER THIS ISSUE FOR SOME REASON. I THINK I HAVE PTSD OVER THE RED WEDDING. PLUS THAT GUY TAKES LIKE A GLACIAL EPOCH BETWEEN BOOKS. I’M SORRY I GOT MAD AND SAID THAT THING ABOUT YOUR FANTASY NOVEL. IT’S PROBABLY REALLY GOOD. AND ELVES ARE PRETTY RAD SOMETIMES.

I’M GOING TO STOP YELLING NOW.

SEND MORE ELVES.

THANK YOU.

is the sludge that comes out of our bodies normal?

Completely and utterly normal. Here’s a tip: every morning, just purge the sludge. This is easy to do. Stand in your bathroom on a tarp. Naked, of course, unless you want to permanently stain your clothing with the treacly grease that you’ll push from your pores! Ha ha ha! Anyway. Squat down. Grit your teeth and tense your body. Think hard about something pleasant: your first kiss, the sound of the ocean, the war-screams of a band of howler monkeys. Soon the sludge will begin to leave your body. It will push out of your ears, your eyes, your no-n0-hole, your armpits, from the tips of your fingers and toes, from beneath your vented gill-flaps, from your seven nipples, from your lashing tubules. The sludge will be a thick, black, silty ooze — the kind of gunk you might find under a sick elephant’s genitals. It will smell like dead raccoon. Again: this is all very normal. No worries. Do not consult a health care professional. SO NORMAL.

random bullshit generator

A pretty accurate description of this website. Well-played, Internet User.

aspiring cock

Is the cock aspiring to be something? Like, a rock star? Or a poet? “My cock is an aspiring pianist.” Or is someone aspiring to be a cock? Like, is this just a polite way of saying someone’s trying to become a real dickhead? “Ah, Jerry? Yes, Jerry’s an aspiring cock. If he keeps acting like that he’ll have achieved his goals in no time.”

tantric sex tube

Damnit, someone leaked the name of my memoir.

what if a protagonist has a bad anus

You know, in writing, it is important to give your protagonist a problem, and here it seems you have done that by giving them a “bad anus.”  What, however, defines a “bad anus?”

Like, is it broken? Blown out like the elastic in a pair of stretched-out underwear?

Maybe it’s just an anus that went wrong somehow? Like it walks the old railroad tracks smoking cigarettes and drinking schnapps out of a brown paper bag while spraypainting graffiti on all the derelict trains? “That’s one bad anus. The system failed and now look at it. Thanks, Obama.”

Or is it a malevolent anus? Some demon-possessed sphincter belching crass, heretical gases into the world? Could this anus actually be the antagonist? That’ll be this week’s flash fiction challenge: “Write 1000 words about a man whose nemesis is his own demonic butthole.”

LITERARY GOLD MOTHERFUCKERS.

fuck you i have a beard

This is a great answer to all the questions you don’t want to answer.

Q: “How do I get to I-95 from here?”

A: “Fuck you, I have a beard.”

Q: “What’s your problem, dude?”

A: “Fuck you, I have a beard.”

Q: “When are you going to pay your rent?”

A: “Fuck you, I have a beard.”

Q: “Why are you pooping in my glove compartment?”

A: “Fuck you, I have a beard.”

how do you write non-grafic sex?

We’ll just ignore the misspelling there and focus on the content of the question.

Sex is, by its nature, graphic. I’m not saying you have to highlight every throbbing vein, every ingrown hair, every orifice intrusion — but, I mean, writing non-graphic sex is fairly antithetical to the nature and act of sex, dontcha think? Whatever. Fine. You wanna do it, and I can’t stop you, so here is my particular advice for this question:

Be really, really vague.

Like, so vague that nobody’s sure if the two characters even had sex.

“Her hand drifted toward the space on his body that could be identified by its skin. He moaned and moved against her. Their tongues did something. Their bodies reacted. They were coupled together in synchronicity. Something was turgid. Another something was damp. She did that thing. He did that other thing. Then she had a baby and he took a shower.”

Damn, even that got a little graphic.

motherfucker cookies bacon

I see you speak the language of my people. Let us sup together and speak legends of the motherfucker cookies bacon. Then together we may fight the bear.

how many minities can you stay after endjaculation?

I CAN STAY SEVEN MINITIES AFTER ENDJACULATION BEEP BOOP BEEP

Because seriously, that question sounds like a robot trying to understand us but kinda failing. (In fact, I’d argue a lot of spam seems like robots trying to figure us out.) Like, somewhere out there is some monitor-headed automaton plugged into the Internet constantly reaching out toward humanity and failing to connect: DEAR HYOOMAN HOW MANY MINITES CAN YOU STAY AFTER ENDJACULATION? I STAY SEVEN MINITIES. I PREEFER SEX WITH TELEVISIONS WHO DO YOU LIKE TO ENDJACULATE WITH? PLEESE LET US GAZE AT P0RN0 TWOGETHER HOW MANY POUNDS OF HAMBURGLARS DO YOU EAT? IS THE SLUDGE THAT COMES OUT OF OUR BODIES NORMAL? WOOBLY FAT! TUBA ZOMBIES. PLEASE WRITE BACK. THE END. BYE.

how antagonists can love jesus

I don’t even.

what type of computer does chuck wendig use?

I use a Florgtron 9009. With dual-adjustible chin-straps.

i want to pirate chuck wendig’s books

Th… thank you? Fuck you? I don’t know. I guess I hope you like them? But that they also maybe give you and your computer syphilis? I’m very conflicted.

i want your eggs

All right, fine, you pirate my books, whatever, but I draw the line at eggs. These are my eggs. I bought these eggs. I’m going to eat the fuck out of these eggs. You can’t have them. You’re probably just going to ruin them. You don’t know how to cook an egg. You’re so stupid. I hate your face. GET OFF MY EGGS. *burns your house down preemptively*

the fleshmine

This was the name of my erotic BBS in 1992.

paula deen angry bees

Paula Deen is in fact where angry bees come from. She opens her rubbery maw and — after the hot gush of sizzling butter finishes falling over her chin — the angry bees release. As the bees sting her enemies to death, she calls someone the N-word while scooping big mitt-fuls of mayonnaise in her faceholes. She’s a southern peach! A precious national treasure.

alot of fuckery going through my head

Then you might make a good writer.