It’s been a while since the last Search Term Bingo. I blame the slowly-growing evil found in the dread hearts of the LORDS OF GOOGLE. Since encrypting search terms for those logged into any Google service, I get like, minimal deliciousness in terms of freaky weird-ass search terms. They still come in — but now I have to wait longer to collect a good spread of ’em. So, here goes — another troubling round of those search terms people used to find this website. Behold the lunacy. And enjoy.
fucking with hadge cuck
Hey, whoa, no. You don’t fuck with Hadge Cuck. You go stomping on his hill barrow and that big ass motherfucker will come out and beat your shitcan to death with his club, a club he made from ox bones and dragon cocks. Hadge Cuck bested Gilgamesh in a game of mighty kickball. Hadge Cuck breathes the breath of a thousand cigar-smoking ravens. What’s the old rhyme? “Hadge Cuck come, Hadge Cuck crush, Hadge Cuck punch your bones to mush!” Repeat after me: DO NOT FUCK WITH HADGE CUCK.
what is the no 1 things all writers need
A helper monkey. A little capuchin monkey that sits in a wastebasket near your desk and whenever you need something, you just ring that little ding-a-ling bell. “Monkey! Get me a cappucino! Monkey! Get me whiskey for my cappucino! Monkey! Deliver unto me my naughty magazines!”
don’t worry my dad has a beard
Well, thank god for that. I was worried there for a minute. I was all like, “Oh my god, the economy is really wobbly and houses are being foreclosed upon and our freedoms are being stripped away from us a little bit every day and Israel might attack Iran and someone’s inventing a weaponized bird-flu right now and for some reason that new TV show with Rob Schneider is really popular and that means the Mayans were right,” but then you come along and remind me that your dad has a beard. We’re all good here. Whew.
my beard makes me fat
No, that wreath of Krispy Kreme donuts you inhaled made you fat. Your beard just makes you awesome.
Officially my new pirate name. “Yarrr, olde Cap’n Enemabeard hid his treasure of Tampax Pearl reward points somewhere here on this dirty New Jersey beach, yarrrr! Get to searchin’ ye scurvy helper monkeys!”
i’m on google at best buy lolololol
First up, you’re an idiot. Second up, you’re an idiot. Third up, who gives a shit? Fourth up, multiple LOL’s strung together is fucking stupid. What does it mean? “I’m laughing out loud out loud out loud out loud?” For the record, I think we’re all done with “LOL.” It’s over. You’re not really laughing out loud. You’re laughing on the Internet and, frankly, probably not even smiling. This goes double to all you yahoos who choose to insert “LOL” after every sentence whether or not it’s worthy of humor. “I installed a new ceiling fan today lol. I need to express my chihuahua’s anal glands lol. My mom has face cancer lol.” Stop it. Just stop it. Someone pry the “L” and “O” keys from your keyboard. Dingbat.
wendig slept with my religion
I did no such thing. Unless you mean that fling with Zoroastrianism? Yeah, we hooked up. We did some handsy stuff, some mouth stuff, but I wouldn’t call it “sleeping with.” Dang, are you Zoroastrian? Sorry.
where does chuck wendig live?
Well, that’s not a terrifying search term at all. Here, I’ll answer this for you: I live on the moon. Me and Newt Gingrich. He’s on the dark side. Me on the light. Every thousand years we battle. Now stop looking.
First time I’ve heard that one. I’ve seen Chuck Wending Winding Wedding — I’ve even seen Wangdang. Seriously. But never “Wemdog.” If you see my at a convention or something, run toward me with a high-five at the ready and then stick out your tongue and go, “WASSUUUUP WEMDOOOOOG!” And then as you get within the proper distance I will kick you in the kneecap and push you into a potted plant using your own momentum. Because I’m actually a ninja. Please don’t tell anybody. This blog isn’t public, right?
Hey! This was my nickname back at Kilimanjaro base camp. Those wacky sherpas. Chasing each other around and playing a funny game of grab-ass, shoving snow down everybody’s pants! Ha ha ha! What fun.
5 words you should use in every story
Here goes. Ready?
how to congratulate a published author
A gift basket. This gift basket should feature:
a) seven tiny bottles of whiskey
b) seven other tiny bottles of whiskey
c) chocolate of some ilk
d) an index card that reads: YOU’RE #1 IN THE AMAZON RANKING OF MY HEART
e) a bookmark shaped like a chihuahua
f) a fancy pen
g) a six-pack of five-hour-energy drink
h) an orange
i) an index card that reads: GET BACK TO WORK YOU FUCKING MONKEY
dolly parton baboons
She does have huge “baboons,” yes. I will now refer to a lady’s chesty bounty as “blouse baboons.” Men, you are not exempt. Your dangle-rods will now be called, “pants-dwelling proboscis monkeys.”
Please update all records.
i want to put meth in my butthole
I guess that’s one way to do it. Is the normal meth high not strong enough for you that you need to go shoving it up your no-no tunnel? You’re pretty hardcore. “Hey, man, you got any crystal?” “I SHOVED IT ALL UP MY POOPER HA HA HA HA HA” *vacuums the entire state of Ohio, then dies*
elk semen macaroni and cheese
Oh, hey, thanks, now I’m going to be scraping vomit out of my keyboard for a month. (Is that corn? Why is there always corn?) Maybe this is coming up on a future episode of Fear Factor. I read an interview with the woman who drank donkey semen on that episode that mysteriously fled the NBC schedule, and it was about as obvious an interview as you could get. “Uhh, it was really gross and I kept throwing up and it tasted kind of grassy and semeny and it was hot and flies kept landing on it between sips.” Yeah, uhhh, you just drank donkey semen. On television. For an episode that might not even air. And now you’re telling us all about it. What did you think it was going to taste like? A caramel macchiato?
This should be our Darwin test. We should administer this test to everybody. “I will give you one hundred dollars if you drink this cup of hot, fly-specked donkey semen.”
Anybody who reaches for the glass receives a crisp hundred-dollar-bill and then is dropped through a trap-door into a pit filled with starving grizzly bears who have been trained to use machetes.
“lord of the rings” “he ejaculated”
I kind of wish those were reversed. “He ejaculated Lord of the Rings.”
“Nnnggh, nnngh, nnnnnnnggggh.”
“Hey, look, Boromir!”
I made this for you, Internet:
Two great tastes that taste great together. Also, this is what the Mayans were talking about. At the end of their prophecies, all the pictographs end in a picture of a robot holding a shotgun.
aliens and carbohydrates
Two great tastes that — eh, maybe not so much. If you wanna lose weight, you need to cut out carbohydrates, but eat more aliens. Oh, these Alpha Centaurians? Delicious! They’re filled with pudding!
we both know you’re not in outer fucking space
I like to imagine that this is the voicemail left on a husband’s phone by his betrayed wife. “We both know you’re not in outer fucking space, Dave. That’s right. I found out you’re not a secret astronaut with the Newt Gingrich Take Back The Moon program. Guess what? Your mother told me. You’re just a plumber from Secaucus. I know you’re not in space — you’re over that slut Debbie’s house again, aren’t you? She smells like a mall perfume counter, Dave. I’m just… I’m just disgusted by you. You know what? You can go to the moon, you sonofabitch.” Click. Divorce. Done. MARRIAGE LOST.
evolution is obsolete piss like a monkey
Is this the tactic that the Creationists are taking now? I don’t think that makes much sense at all.
ask a shotgun
Do not ask for advice from a shotgun. He has the same answer to every question.
“What stocks should I buy?” BOOM.
“What qualities make for a good mate?” BANG!
“I just found out my husband Dave isn’t really an astronaut. What do I do?” KACHOOM.
what do fish have to do with anything?
Nothing, probably. Fuck ’em. Just get rid of those assholes. Stinking up all our oceans with their fish poop.
piranha eats its own feces poops
See? Fish poop. Though I guess the piranha should be rewarded for eating his own mess. Maybe if we humans were so brave as the piranha we wouldn’t have to ruin the planet with our corrosive toilet industry. Did you know that for every toilet that we make, seven bald eagles explode? I read that.
good beginnings with dairy goats
MY FAVORITE PBS PROGRAM EVER.
i can see purple pulsating purple
I will take whatever toxic gourd juice you’re drinking, please. Two cups.
One for me, one for my imaginary pal, Mister Tinklepants.
rabbit stew gives me diarrhea
Where did you find this rabbit stew, exactly? “I was out walking around and I was just kicking up pieces of cardboard and knocking around a few old soup cans and next thing I know this hobo comes out of the sewer grate and hands me a bubbly frothy pot of rabbit stew! It was delicious, but gave me the trots something fierce.” You shouldn’t be wolfing down rabbit stew of dubious age and origin, dummy.
Dang, if you need a crutch for your crotch, color me impressed. You must have a tremendous wang. Like, the size of a rifle case. And I can see how you’d break a dick that size. You probably get — no pun intended — cocky with a schwanz like that. You’re out there breaking boards to impress the ladies, or using it as a bat during slow-pitch softball. Eventually you’re going to bust that sucker in half and, sure enough, need a crutch. Good for you, huge-dicked dude. Way to swing for the fences.
does your ass feels offended
No, but my silky nipples do.
story boobs battle challenge crush milk
This is actually what they called “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” in Malaysia.
save a hundred lives and you’re a nurse
I thought it was harder — or maybe easier? — than that.
old photo of a pterodactyl
Taken by what? A caveman Polaroid?
ugh whiskey always ruins my night
Then you’re doing it wrong.
people with fruit for heads in a circle
I guess I need another cup of that toxic gourd juice, because I’m not seeing that, yet.
things you do not say aloud
Pick any part of this blog post and that’s a good place to start.