Edition 47 of More Inexplicable Google Searches that Brought People to This Blog

• Nubile Koreans


• watch tv "in fact, i don't even own one"


• petite latinas metiendo


• robin swobodas hair


• years of snow lyrics stare at your boobs


• "aesthetic value" AND "naked body"


• "Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you" film


• jiggling cleavage streets

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Seriously Ridiculous

Dude's singing about not being able to get it up, and I'm getting a lady-boner listening...

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The Heart Sings Out an S.O.S.

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Me, Being Cut in Half By Surgery

So I mentioned on prior occasion the drawing a four-year old did of me where I'm being cut in half by surgery. Well, the drawing itself is, of course, priceless.

But this past week, I got severely creeped out when, while waiting for a bagel to toast, I noticed the magnet holding up her picture and how creepily similar it IS to the actual picture.

Apparently Jouvert was channeling Pink Floyd in a very scary way...

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I Don't Know How I've NOT Ever Heard This Tom Waits Song Before, But Yay

*jumping up and down and clapping hands at cuteness*

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FREE BLOW-JOBS STILL NOT REDEEMED

Dammit. No free blow-jobs to hand out this morning.

Not Xiu Xiu after all.

Although I kind of like this song:



But think more gritty and raw-barreled. Less synthesized.

Maybe I'll just try pandora-ing Tom Waits all day today and see if anything pops up.

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WIN A FREE BLOW-JOB, PT. II!

(Please see Part I below for all rules and regulations.)

Hmmmm.

Maybe it's Man Man?

I'm hoping not. Because the dude's voice kind of makes me feel like scratching out my own eyeballs for some reason.

And they kind of sound like what would happen if Tom Waits, Mr. Bungle, Modest Mouse, and like The Squirrel Nut Zippers had like this giant alcohol-induced orgy and then a few months later, one of them had a Cosby Show moment and realized he was pregnant, and then the OBGYN told him that—by some extremely rare 1 in 1,000,000,000 chance--he apparently somehow managed to become impregnated by the sperm of EVERY SINGLE MUSICIAN INVOLVED IN THAT ORGY simultaneously, and then, eventually, he popped Man Man out of the tip of his cock in an extremely painful and horrifying moment that caused a rash of severe vomiting from all the male doctors, nurses, and orderlies at that hospital. I forget what the beginning of that sentence was. But all that kind of = Man Man.

Then again, I kind of have a headache. So I may just not be in the mood for the obnoxiously carnivalesque.

Nonetheless, their songs seem too jaunty and haberdashed to be what I was thinking of.

And I've noticed no lyrics about stepping or angels or angels stepping or any of that.

BUT I could be wrong.

And seriously: Mr. Bungle has already done this, dudes. And has actually succeeded in making it uncomfortable.

Headache: shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

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WIN A FREE BLOW-JOB!

Ok. So. Now that I've got your attention:

The neighbor who lives directly behind my house (I call him "The Bleeder") has a taste in music that is UNCANNILY similar to my own.

Consequently, I sometimes sit out on my roof with my earbuds in (to avoid Old Guy Neighbor) but no actual music playing, just so I can listen to HIS music instead.

I was doing this the other day, when a song came on that literally gave me chills. The voice sounded like Tom Waits. And initially I thought maybe he had a new album out. But he doesn't. And after I removed my earbuds and craned my eardrums some, I could tell it wasn't him. But the song was haunting and startling. And it was followed up by another song that I THINK was by the same artist which was also dissonant and strange and lovely. But despite all my ear-drum craning, I COULDN'T EXTRACT ANY LYRICS FROM THE SONGS TO GOOGLE.

I thought I had. I thought part of the chorus of ONE of the two songs was "angels stepped down." Or "[something] stepped down." Or "[something] STEPS down." But these are yielding NOTHING but a Jane Siberry song, and unless she recorded an album in which her sweet, juicy-grapes voice sounds like a gravelly whiskey-drinking man, I suspect this is not the song.

I also tried googling many variations of "sounds like Tom Waits," and apparently the internet is populated by thousands of musical morons who THINK they get the essence of Tom Waits but who apparently HAVEN'T A FUCKING CLUE. (Check out Merz on myspace and you'll see what I mean. Someone mentioned HIM as Tom-Waits-like.)

I was almost tempted to shout across the way at my neighbor and ask what band/artist it was when I first heard it. But I kind of figured that would severely creep him out.

And I'm SURE he probably already thinks of me as That Crazy Cat Lady, so I'd like to avoid ADDING to that by letting him know that I actually sit and listen to his music on a fairly regular basis.

So. Dear readers. HELP A MUSIC WHORE OUT!!!!! PLEASE.

The Bleeder is fairly current in his musical tastes and seems up on indie trends and all that shit, so I suspect this is probably a newer band.

But does anyone know of any bands/artists that meet the following criteria:

• The lead singer has an unusual voice like that of Tom Waits.



• The songs rhythms are unusual and the guitar-work is startling and unique.



• There are possibly lyrics in one of the songs that involve "stepping down" or "step down" or "angels stepping down" or SOMETHING fucking stepping down. (But this may be completely incorrect.)



• There MAY also be a woman who sings on the album. This I'm not quite sure of.



• I suspect it's probably something kind of hipster-cool that's lurking around right now.

If you have even an INKLING of a clue whom I might be thinking of, please do comment and leave a link or something. (One-F Man--my right-hand whore when it comes to music--RAPE that brain of yours and figure it out for me please please please.) I'm pretty certain that, after ALL this searching, I will probably be sorely disappointed when someone finally figures it out for me. And it will probably the most lame-ass music ever. But I'm willing to take that chance.

So please: HELP!!!

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Haven't You Seen Enough Zombie Flicks to Know That ZOMBIES DON'T LAUGH, LINDY LOO! *shaking head in disappointment*

* * * * *

When I finally went to bed after the reception, I dreamt that J (below, left) and I were pushing his sister P (below, right) around in a wheelchair while she ate an ice cream cone.

I also dreamt that J had an uber-serious conversation with his sister and me while wearing nothing but a red speedo.

(I think my subconscious secretly wants to makeout with both of them.)

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Songs I Like This Week + A Cheesy Fade-out/In

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Things I Did This Weekend

• Attended the most honest and joyful wedding I've ever been to. (Yay, you guys!)

(Click pic to see more)

• Attended the portion of a porchfest that didn't involve porches. (Yeah, say THAT three times fast. I dare you.)



• Rubbed one out on P's brother.



• Walked home barefoot at 2:30 in the morning after being destroyed at pool.



• Attempted to share a smoke with a tattooed boy in rain so hard that it made the cigarette completely disintegrate.



• Got asked by the groom from the aforementioned wedding to play a zombie with him & a bunch of other folks for wedding pictures. (Did I not say it was the best wedding ever?)



• Got stared at all night by a boy who I don't think realized how completely obvious he was being.



• Sat out in the rain and watched kittens.



• Wrote.



• Read.



• Rithmeticed.



• Had a threeway.

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How I Became a Library Hussy

So as anyone who knows me is aware: I am a book slut. I read like a crazed person.

And as this blog has documented in the past, apparently I am also a library hussy.

And so it is that the saga continues.



First it was The Dostoevsky-Loving Lawyer. Then it was The Awkward DVD Conversationalist.

And apparently the come-ons are becoming increasingly blunter each time, as this past week, no actual conversation (book-relatedly or not) was even exchanged.

Cute boy held door open for me.

I walked through opened door.

Cute boy stood in the doorway and shouted after me "Can I have your number??"

I don't think I'd find it quite so amusing and worth documenting if it was happening anywhere else. But there is just something so funny and nerdy to me about the fact that the only time I ever really seem to get hit on is at the library.

And given the deterioration of all social decorum in the progression of these library come-ons, I can only assume the next time this goes down, I will just be thrown up against the circulation desk or a stack of magazines and dude will have his dirty, nasty, book-loving (*fanning self*) way with me.

So the question remains: will it be the circulation desk or the stack of magazines that we defile with our sweet sweet library love?

Stay tuned for next week's episode of As the Library Turns to find out...

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Joan As Police Woman - To Be Lonely

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Panty Thief

Hmmm. I think I might be wearing someone else's underwear right now.

When I put them on this morning, I actually DID have a moment's confusion, in which I thought: Oh sweet. I didn't even realize I *HAD* these underwear! But I was in a rush to get to work, so I didn't think much more on it.

But, having had more time to reflect upon it, I think the reason I didn't realize I owned these underwear is 'cause I don't think I *DO* own these underwear.

Which begs the question: Whose underwear ARE they?

I suspect maybe they got mixed in with my drier load when I was doing laundry last week.

But that in turn begs the question: When will the owner of these underwear be doing another load wherein I might be able to "accidentally" mix a few more pairs in with my own?

Because I think I can get over the slight creepiness of the shared vag-space knowing that goddamn are they comfy.

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There's nothin' left to talk about, unless it's horizontally

I woke up this morning to John Travolta singing "You're the One That I Want" from Grease on my clock radio, and it made me smile 'cause I've always secretly liked that song a lot. And not because I was one of those girls who worshipped Grease and watched it over and over with her friends while painting her toenails and dipping her firsts into an oversized bowl of popcorn. But because we--for some reason--used to have the song on a 45 when I was little.







Which got me thinking of all the albums we had on vinyl when I was little. And they were a horrifying bunch.

I remember dancing--Flashdance-style--around the basement to THIS horribly 1980s, leg-warmer-wearing gem:









And then we had an inexplicable array of Sesame Street & Disney albums, the crowning glories being a 45 of "C is for Cookie" (LISTEN) which has WAY too much chewing in it, and Mickey Mouse Disco whose best song was UNARGUABLY "Macho Duck" (sung by Donald Duck), which really does hold up even after all these years:









We also owned the Mickey's Christmas Carol album which essentially was the audio of the ENTIRE Christmas special transferred directly onto vinyl--songs AND exact dialogue--the highlight of which was the sound effect of Goofy yelping as he fell down a flight of stairs. So we pretty much knew the Mickey's Christmas Carol special verbatim when we'd watch it each year:







All of this also made me think back fondly on the sweet ass record player we had when I was little. It was about 3 feet tall or so and made out of (essentially) red heavy-duty cardboard. And it had a corrugated plastic "window" on the front of it with a multi-colored lightbulb behind it which would reflect in the corrugations and make pretty colors while it played. Man, what I wouldn't give to still have that.

We also had the infamous electrical-shock record player that my parents owned. You had to really REALLY want to listen to something to be willing to use it, 'cause every time you went to turn it on, it would buzz you with a mild electrical shock.

Oh those were the days... Remember back when us children of the 70s & 80s actually used to play on playgrounds that DIDN'T have rounded corners or wood chips but were situated over cement and almost always had rusty exposed screws somewhere?

Safety is overrated.

But shitty record albums and electrocution turntables most CERTAINLY are not.

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I don't think I've ever been quite so excited about Nazi zombies as I am right now:





The idea is just so so so so SO wrong. So I will, of course, be there opening weekend.

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Favorite New Inexplicable Google Search That Brought Someone to This Blog

"Obscene organ"

Mainly because it made my mind go HERE first, rather than THIS much more logical place.

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"However You Try, You Cannot Unmeet..."

(Aimee Bender reads "The Meeting")

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CrazyCatLadySaysWhat?

So: It looks like Outdoor Kitty got a lady-cat knocked up, and now there's two babies frequently romping around in my backyard.

And although it doesn't exactly make me happy to see strays producing more strays, I've still gotta say

OHMYGODTHEYARETHEFUCKINGCUTESTTHINGSEVER
ANDI'MSOGLADTHEY'REAROUND!!!!

I think if I had to be anything else in the universe other than myself, I would want to be a kitten.

Talk about pure joy encapsulated.

I watched one of the kittens wrestle crab-grass in a sidewalk crack for like 30 minutes, and I swear to god: I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy anything HALF as much as that kitten did, wrestling that crab-grass.

I think my whole family could've just been gunned down by a lunatic at K-Mart or something, and I STILL would find myself jumping up and down and clapping my hands if you put a bumbly kitten in front of me.

What a life they must have to enjoy every stupid little thing so very much.

Yesterday, I crafted a super-long piece of yarn with a soy-milk tab knotted to the end that I could dangle off my roof to play with the kittens (since their moms doesn't like when people are nearby). It makes me look like I'm cat-fishing, which cracks me up. It also surely makes me look ENTIRELY INSANE.

But hey: I've gotta live up to the nickname that Old Guy Neighbor gave me--"Mama Cat"--you know what I'm saying?

And I think I'm probably close. For sure.

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Please Excuse This Unscheduled Rant

So: I have a blog feed. And I keep track of all the blogs I like on it. And it tells me when they've updated. And I like that. Mostly 'cause I troll a ton of vegan food-blogs.

This is it, in case you're interested: The My Defective Life Blog Feed

And for the last week, I've been DISGUSTED TO THE POINT OF FURIOUS ANGER every time I check my feed, because I've had to look at THIS creepygrossnastydisgusting ad every time (thankfully they don't seem to advertise it until you log in, so you all will be spared if you go check my feed, except for the fact that I just showed you it now, so MWAHAHAHASUFFER!):



I mean, seriously. I don't want to be staring at fucking disgusting teeth every 20 minutes or so.

I actually LIKE teeth. And after a week of staring at these, I feel like I won't be able to ever suck face again. That I might not even be able to be IN THE SAME ROOM with a tooth.

The ad is just .SO. .GROSS.

I mean:

First mouth--great, you have white teeth now. But your mouth itself is fucking disgusting. You look like you have chapped lips wrapped in herpes wrapped in scabies. You may have the whitest teeth in the world, but no one in their right mind is going to kiss those scabiesherpeschapped lips, my friend. Go home. Take a pair of scissors. Cut them off.

Second mouth--get thee to a rave, and get the hell out of my blog feeds.

Third mouth--It's called toothpaste. Get some. $10 says that was the trick that mom "discovered" anyways. Either that, or just keep your fucking mouth shut. 'Cause: goddamn.

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"You want me?
Fucking come on and break the door down.
I'm ready..."

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Regardless of whether you liked or hated (or just didn't see at all) Jim Jarmusch's The Limits of Control (and I will admit: the first 30-45 minutes or so DRAGGED, in my opinion), the promo poster kicks ass, so I share:

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You ever feel like you need to do a people cleanse, a kind of fasting that involves not food but people?

I've been feeling like that for a couple weeks now. I'm pretty certain I'm sick of nearly everyone right now: both people I know and people I don't.

And I keep thinking, maybe I need to give up people for a while and just stick with lemon-juice and cayenne pepper and see if it flushes all the garbage out of my system... Cleanse and purify. Cleanse and purify.

Trouble is, I'm afraid that after all is said and done, I won't want to start eating again.

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Squatting in the Corner of the Circle Jerk: Disillusionment is an Abscess; Metaphor as Vague

I possess the power of invisibility.

I could be standing right in front of you, and still you'd look right through.

But if the world is populated by the blind, what difference does it really make?

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Apparently Left Hand Cuts the Right is a veritable flashback time-machine today.

First: the Guinness Book.

And now the sudden memory:

A boy once used this man to try to get into my pants:



More specifically, a boy once used Henry Rollins' poetry to try to get in my pants.

When that failed, he was not discouraged. He instead suggested that I just give him a ring if I was ever looking for a "friend with benefits."

The best part is that this whole conversation was very awkwardly had behind the circulation desk at the college library we were working at together.

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When I was little, my parents for some reason owned a hardback volume of the Guinness Book of World Records (not just paperback, but the hardback version), and I coveted that thing like mad. I would find somewhere to go that was far away from everyone else, and I'd just pore over the pictures, sometimes for the 13th or 14th time.

I've always been in awe of anomalies.

These were a few of my favorites (these are the pics as I remember them as well):









I also used to love pictures of spontaneous combustion.




You can't get any better than that really.

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Remember the Video for "When Doves Cry"?

Jesus: it made me lusty as a little girl.

Only loosely relatedly: This Prince song is good.

The Beautiful Ones - Prince

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Click

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This site makes me happy that there are things to look at:

Click to get there

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This is a call of arms to live and love and sleep together. We could flood the streets with love or light or heat whatever...

So ever since I've met N/A's friend Cocks (we'll call him "Cocks" as that's actually not too far removed from his real name), all our interactions have--for reasons still unclear to me--been charged with belligerence. Our first ever interaction ended with us staring each other down, our faces just inches from each other, and me spitting: "Are you SERIOUSLY getting pissed OFF about this, dude?"

Which is a shame, 'cause I really think I'd probably LIKE him more if I didn't feel like CHOKING HIM OUT 90% of the time.

Despite all that, he IS to be thanked for ONE thing, and it's that he introduced me to MGMT one morning... inadvertently... while he was blasting some music and wandering listlessly around N/A's living room as I drank coffee. Given how much I adore their album Oracular Spectacular, I tip my hat to him for at least having good taste in music.

And if you haven't heard Oracular Spectacular, you must check it out.

It's one of my favorite albums that I've been introduced to in the past year or so methinks.

Oracular Spectacular - MGMT

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I dreamt last week that an amazing eggplant tree had blossomed on my roof overnight. And that a man with tattoos loved me. The love was kind and gentle. The eggplants hung like dozens of dark pendulums. When I went out to stand beneath the tree, the sunrise had smeared the sky pink, and it was so breathtaking that I had to get my camera to take a picture.

When I woke up, I was really kind of sad.

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More of "More Inexplicable Google Searches that Brought People to This Blog"

• "shattering sneeze" OR "shattering sneezes" OR "shattering sneezing"



• Showed me his wiener



• on the british multi grain cheerios commercial are the 2 adults related



• lyrics "stare at your boobs" regina



• redhead marla



• sfw p0rn



• cillian Murphy naked



• neighbors orgasm



• find sam Rockwell



• robin swoboda nude

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