In a new feature that I will be posting once a month, I will be listing my favorite search terms that people used that led them to my blog, more than likely to leech photos off of it without reading the posts. I will keep this feature up until the repetition of the searches gets soul-crushingly boring and I don’t think that anyone will find the variations of “David Lee Roth” and “Horse Penis” entertaining anymore.

On to the countdown.

1. Giant Butthole

2. Fuck me up the ass I’m emo

3. Old Person Butthole

4.  tight butt hole

5. baby butt hole

6.”pedal my ass”

7. www.egypt.wife.fuck

8. he’s a grown boy wash your own damn sheets

I find a couple of things disturbing about this.

The first is that these things are being searched for. I guess I kind of get “tight butt hole” and “He’s a grown boy wash your own damn sheets” . Tight buttholes could be a porn thing, and the other term is from a SNL skit, so cool.  “Baby Butt hole”, though? “Old Person Butt hole”? I’m dying to know. I’m curious: who is the guy who thinks to himself “You know, I’m aware that baby’s have buttholes, but I feel like I need to know more. I’d better get on the Internet and search for more information on the subject!”

The second thing, which I find more troubling than the fact that someone is searching for giant buttholes and old person buttholes on the Internet is that when they do search for these things, they are directed to my site. I don’t know exactly what I hoped would draw people to my blog when I first started writing it, but I never imagined that it would be www.egypt.wife.fuck or just about every imaginable noun in the dictionary immediately followed by “butthole”. I suppose that when I had to start labeling my posts to let people know that they were butthole free, it should’ve tipped me off. Maybe this is a sign that I need to start varying the topics of my posts a little bit more.

Oh well. Either way, I’ll start collecting the terms in August. I can only hope that you find them as entertaining as I do.

I guess linking to that Radiolab podcast put a pingback in their comments section. As a result, I’ve been getting hits from Radiolab listeners. I wish I would’ve linked to Radiolab in a better post, but I got a comment from the Mother of the the guy I mentioned, which was pretty neat. She told me that I “ramble on” just like her son, which I’m going to pretend is a compliment.

Moving on.

I don’t watch much television.

At least, I didn’t watch much television until I decided to give up video games for a year. Now, I watch a lot of television. One of the shows that I really like is The Wire. I’m not going to waste time describing it – People that have already seen it know what it’s about, and people that haven’t think it sounds like any other crime-drama, and so they think I’m getting all gushy over a Law & Order ripoff.  Usually, if I can trick the person in question into watching the first three episodes of season 1, they get hooked, plow through all five seasons in a week or two and then agree with me that it was, in fact, a pretty good show.

Sometimes, though, it takes some work to get someone to watch those first three episodes. When that happens, I have this stupid habit: I start bargaining with them. If they’re willing to give The Wire a shot, I’m willing to try out something that they like.

I hate that show. So why do I have a boner right now? TUESDAYS ON THE DEUCE!!!

This strategy always ends in disaster. I’ll be trying to explain to someone that it’s a really great show, and maybe they’d like to borrow my copy of season one and give it a try, they hem and haw a little bit, and before I know it, I’m sitting there watching The Gilmore Girls. No, really. I made a deal that required that I watch The Gilmore Girls in exchange for The Wire.

I have no idea why I do this.

First of all, it makes me that douche bag. You know, the asshole that insists that you listen to some album or watch some movie or tv show because it’s awesome and they’re just positive that you’ll love it. You tell them that you haven’t seen Memento or heard The Trout Mask Replica, and they get shocked and angry and insist that you immediately get your hands on it. I hate those people, and now I’m one of them.

Second of all, I gain nothing from other people watching the show. I’ve already seen it. I know what happens, I enjoy it, and have friends I can talk about it with – fuck, I can take college classes on it if I feel like it. It doesn’t really have any effect on me at all if some of my friends haven’t ever watched it, so I don’t really need to barter with them.

Third of all, I have a lot to lose from my stupid bargaining. I watched several episodes of The Gilmore Girls, something that never would have happened if I had just said “Oh, you’ve never seen The Wire? That’s cool. Well, let’s never discuss this again. Hey, I’ve got a fun idea! Let’s not watch The Gilmore Girls! I think that would be great!”

(Side note: The local WB affiliate in Colorado is on channel 2. Because of this, they thought that it would be a good idea to call themselves “The Deuce”. I swear to God that this isn’t another of my stupid poop jokes. I’m telling the truth. Check it out. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out their angle. Do they not realize that they’re using a slang term for feces to describe their station? Did some crafty intern pitch that name at a meeting and manage to sneak it by everyone before they realized what had happened? Did the WB finally just decide to call a spade a spade? I don’t know. What I do know is that whenever that goofy announcer uses his badass voice to say things like “Catch ‘Degrassi: The Next Generation’ after ‘Gossip Girl’, only on THE DEUCE!” I giggle a little bit.)

Michael from The Wire. Now on the NEW 90210 - ONLY ON THE DEUCE!!!

So, last night, I was chatting with one of my friends. I won’t bore you with the details, but I made a huge mistake that boils down to this:

For every season of The Wire that she watches, I have to read one of the Twilight books.

The implications of this dark bargain are terrifying: If she watches season one of The Wire, I will have to read Twilight. Should she watch the highly underrated season 2, I have to read New Moon. Season 3, and I’m stuck reading…I don’t know what comes after that. The one with the chess pieces on the cover? Either way, it’s a few hundred more pages of teen vampire porn.

As I thought about it more, I realized that this deal has an unintended consequence: Whereas I normally try to get people to watch The Wire because I think that it’s a great television show, I will now be putting an incredible amount of time and effort into making sure that my friend never sees a single episode of it. The stakes are too high. If she ends up watching it and enjoying it, I’ve got a few thousand pages of romantic vampire literature to plow through. Hundreds upon hundreds of references to his “cold, ivory skin”, pages of sparkling in the sunlight and talking to werewolves without a single chainsaw-wielding centaur in sight!

And what if I end up liking it? It’s only a matter of time before I’m wearing tight, sleeveless t-shirts that are bejeweled with the words “Team Edward”…

…Please excuse me. I have to go murder one of my friends before something terrible happens.

OH YEAH! THE DEUCE IS LOOSE!!!

As anyone who reads this blog with any kind of regularity knows, I tend to repeat myself. A lot. Sometimes I realize that I’m doing it, but most of the time, I don’t even know that I’m rehashing the same old ideas over and over. Once and a while, I’ll look back at my entries and find things that I have no recollection of writing. It will sound like something that I would write, but the only reason that I know that I was the one that came up with it is because it’s on my blog.

Anyway, one of the themes that I always have in heavy rotation is “My life at this age and the life that I imagined for myself at this age when I was 18 are two very different things.”

As luck would have it, last week’s Radiolab, there was a segment about a guy who died but had used a website where he could write a letter to himself that would send the letter off at some point in the future. The guy died, but a few years later, his family received the letter. This got me thinking about what is apparently my favorite subject: myself, 10 years ago.

"Who told you to take ofF the Spock ears? YOU KNOW I CAN'T FINISH IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE SPOCK EARS ON!!!"

When I was in my mid 20′s, it was incredibly painful for me think about how different my expectations of my life were from the reality, in part because I think it was the first time that I realized that I probably wasn’t going to be millionaire porking hot babes with four boobs in my space yacht like I had assumed I would be.

As I got into my late 20′s, I started to come to terms with it and realize that the vague, foggy teenage visions of my life weren’t very realistic (come on, I would be a billionaire, not a millionaire, and two boobs on a girl would be totally fine) and that even if I wasn’t the quarterback of the Denver Broncos, there were a lot of situations that I could be in at my age that were much, much worse than single with a bachelor’s degree. No kids, no debt, no felonies (miraculously) – I hadn’t accomplished everything that I wanted to, but I hadn’t painted myself into a corner, either.

Now that I’m about as late in my 20′s as I can be (I’ve got three more months left), 18 year old me just cracks me up.

Alright, I'm ready; where do I put my dick?

I’m far enough away from being a teen that I have more perspective on it than I used to, and I also spend quite a bit of time around 18 year olds, which helps me remember just how underdeveloped a brain is at that age. When I was a teen, I had acne, I was always mad at my parents for no good reason, I planned my week around the X-Files, I liked Limp Bizkit and I couldn’t touch a Playstation controller without getting an erection – is it really that shocking that I couldn’t accurately look ten years into the future?

And besides,  I was kind of a douche (some things never change, I guess). I think it would be pretty funny to chat with teenage me. I can only imagine the look on his face when I was like “You know how you’re living in your parent’s basement, going to school and not getting laid? Yeah – you’re gonna want to get nice and used to that. Oh, and your hair and that acne are both going to migrate from your head down to your back.” I can almost see his pimply, hairless jaw clenching as he slams the door to his room, cranks up the Limp Bizkit and starts screaming into a pillow and kicking his feet.

Here’s what I was thinking, though: I have reached the point where I don’t really remember what it was like to be me ten years ago anymore. People always say you’re a completely different person than you were when you were younger, which is true, but I never realized how true until I found those old journals that I mentioned last week. Sure, there are things I remember about being that age – I remember most of the things I did, the people I hung out with and the stuff I liked, but I’ve completely forgotten how I perceived everything around me. Looking at those old journals made me realize that I now view the world through a completely different set of lenses than I did in 1998. It was very strange, and made me a little bit sad that I didn’t have more documentation of my life from then. As much as seeing some of the things that I thought make me cringe, it was kind of neat to get a look at old me. I recently reconnected with an old friend on facebook that I hadn’t seen in years, and he saw pictures of my little sister and was like “Fuck! She’s a senior in college? I remember her wearing diapers!” It’s kind of like that, only with myself.

This makes me wonder: Should I start documenting everything that I’m thinking now so I can look back and laugh at myself when I’m 40?

One one hand, I’m guessing that if I see things differently now than I did ten years ago, the same thing will happen in another ten years, and I’ll have the same retarded, narcisistic desire to comb through my journals and laugh at myself.

On the other hand, let’s be honest: in ten years, I’ll be living in my parent’s basement, going to school and playing video games. It’s just how I am. I’m like the dude in Grandma’s Boy, except that guy had a job.

See you Wednesday.