Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Enid Blyton Nude Tennis

Now THAT conjures up an image that'll encourage you to involuntarily puke up your muesli doesn't it?

It is just one of the recent Google search phrases that freakish folk from all corners of the world have typed in and then been automatically directed to this here humble little blog. Geez, they must be disappointed (to say the least) when they arrive, only to discover that 'Love Chunks' is not a scatological euphemism and 'FUIC' merely refers to my favoured brand of iced coffee.

However, 'Dutch Ovens' might offend those who were innocently looking for a pipe-shaped, cast-iron cooking device that is used over hot coals and not for the description of my shameless nocturnal butt blasts under the doona to which poor Love Chunks is frequently subjected.... Ahem...!

Despite my lifelong dream to celebrate - rather than suppress - the need to let off 'steam' every now and then, there are still some google searchers who find their way here using key words and phrases that are too bizarre to fully contemplate. They include:

Booger fetish site - let me assure you that I have never, ever fetish-ised boogers, mucus, snot or phlegm on these pages. Mentioned them yes, but celebrated them? No.

Parp Porn Movies - OK so 'parp' has been used here to describe the shart 'parp parp' sound that can emanate from the bulbously buttockular regions, but porn? Here? Not unless you can somehow wring out some sensuality from my nightly struggles to locate the fuzzy blue bed socks that usually end up on the floor.....

I sweat through my pants - Erk. Poor you; now go away and seek help.

Magnas with sex and nudity - Our mitsubishi magna is a STATION WAGON. It is thirteen years old. Station wagons, by their very design, are created to repel all forms of sex and nudity or any opportunities for sex and nudity. They reek of marriage, commitment, exhaustion, prams, dogs, groceries, booster seats, mortgages and long, boring drives that are often referred to as 'family holidays' or 'it's too expensive to fly' and 'why didn't you go when I filled up at the service station?'.

Shane Warne Hawaiian pizza - Wait, there's a pizza named after Warnie? This is what he eats when the baked beans have run out? Or does he have the IQ of a ham-n-pineapple, hold the onions?

Deformed Malteser - I'd never say no to a deformed chocolate; it all ends up in the same spot after all. Of course, I'm only scoffing 5% of my previous level of daily intake of course, thanks to Dr Checks and his evil cholesterol tests....

Swollen lips from eating parsley - Parsley has been mentioned here in relation to it being our rabbit, Skipper's favourite food, but he's barely got any lips, let alone swollen ones. Trust me, I kiss 'em every day and it's hard work locating 'em.

Having mocked those, I'll admit that there are some search phrases that I can (kind of) understand how they wound up in Kath Land. Stuff like:

World War One for Dummies - imagine their bemusement to get my book, read through a few pages and think, 'Who knew that the ANZACS were dying for more work/life balance?'

FUIC Wedding - unless this celebration involved copious amounts of fresh iced coffee, it sounds instead like the bitter review of an angry bridesmaid to me....

Bronzer lotion reaction
- yes, I've tried to obtain a tan via a lotion; anything to prevent someone making a crack about my legs looking like fluoro tubes and possessing the whitest thighs on the beach. All it did was form unsightly brown crevices in my cleavage, ankles and the crooks of my arm and make me stink so badly that Love Chunks would enter the room, automatically rear backwards and run out saying "Phooo weee!"

Squeaky Rockport shoes - my parents are devotees of this brand, as are most retired grey nomads who want 'sensible walking shoes that go with everything' - spoken by my mother, Pauline, who likes to team hers with slacks, a blouse and matching cardigan. And a swipe of lippie to match the blouse. And pearl drop earrings. And a nice handbag; leather of course, and large enough to put stuff like packets of sugar, band-aids, snack bars, scissors, drink bottles, aspirin, reading glasses, a fold-up sun hat, 30+ lotion, gloves, plastic poncho, paper serviettes, moist sachets, cough lollies, needle and thread, buttons, safety pins, lip balm, comb, notepad and pen, novel, insect repellent, toe nail clippers, dried apricots and an umbrella.

Ashleigh's Peanut Butter Farts - perhaps Ashleigh's hiding something from us? Does he have a skill so specific that onlookers (or 'on smellers') can tell what food he's eaten?

Madonna admits she can't resist Cadbury's Fruit and Nut - bless her. Now if she'd only get off the stage, unplug the microphone, put on some trousers, stay home and eat some.

And (blushing profusely), even this one:

I hawk up solid brown chunks of mucus. Um, I might have mentioned my infected sinuses, nasal polyps, honking nose blows and nose surgery here a few times.....

However they all pale into insignificance when compared to a phrase that is so completely in the polar opposite direction of everything I stand for. It's a sick joke, a terrible insult to my years (yes, years I tell you) of toil, sweat, stress and strain to reveal in writing what offends, enrages, repulses and disgusts me:

Love My Cardie.

It's a sad old world we live in.


franzy said...

I thought you were knuckling down for a morning of work, and here I find you (while net surfing at work) blogging about your Google Search terms!

*whip crack!*

I don't work all day so you can stop blogging about your burbs and start navel gazing!
I want that sparkling blog on my desk(top) by 5, Lockett!

River said...

I loved reading the contents of your mum's handbag. Minus the dried apricots, that sounds almost exactly like what I used to carry around from the time my first toddler fell and scraped her knees. I still carry a lot of "stuff", largely unnecessary, but it comes in handy now and again. Like when my K was juggling several christmas gifts onto a bus and we used my tape measure to tie them all together for easier handling.

Kath Lockett said...

You're outta luck, young Franz. Sorry.

River - damn, I forgot the tape measure. Honest to god, Mum carries around one of those too!

Benjamin Solah said...

Hilarious! I guess the search terms suit the blog, at least in the mood as mine aren't that exciting - except lots of people type in 'fuck Centrelink' and get my blog - but tempted to hunt down some humorous ones.

Do you use Google Analytics?

The Plastic Mancunian said...

G'Day Kath,

Yes - I've had a few dodgy searches ending up on my blog too - usually involving girly bars and toilet habits.

That's what you get for writing posts about Wanchai (Girly Bar Central in Hong Kong). I do mention toilets occasionally - maybe I should stop.

Nah! Dont think so.




Baino said...

I have a Dutch Oven! No really!
And c'mon Kath, we all know a station wagon is a shaggin' wagon no matter how old it is! Must check my keywords but I think I've forgotten my Statcounter login!

Kath Lockett said...

Benjamin, I use statcounter - there's a little widget thingy at the very bottom of my blog page - click on it and you can get your own version for free. It can give you some rather interesting search words, that's for sure.

Plasmanc you keep writing about toilets and I'll keep writing about farts; if the perves find us, so be it!

Baino - no, I disagree. A 'shaggin wagon' is a Sandman and what ever father dreaded her daughter's boyfriend would drive; especially if they were heading out to the drive-in movies. A station wagon is respectable, open, sensible and completely devoid of sexual allure.

Kay said...

Oh Kath, you make me LAUGH!

the projectivist said...

i don't care, i love my cardie too!

oh how i dreamed of a boyfriend with a sandman, Kath. i have Puberty Blues to thank for that.

Dean said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kath Lockett said...

Thanks, Kay! Clearly you are a woman of taste, intelligence and utter refinement....

Projectivist, my father was a high school teacher, so I had it ingrained in me from birth that drivers of Sandman vehicles were the very spawn of Satan and that any bloke who considered putting shag pile carpeting on the ceiling of said vehicle was also insane. This approach kind of worked. I still went to the drive-in, but not in a Sandman :)

The Man at the Pub said...

So you mean this website isn't about oiled goats in clingwrap??? That explains a lot. A well, no point wasting my time here any longer...