Month: October 2001

I’ve taken to posting the more bizarre search queries from my referrer logs at Disturbing Search Requests. It’s a little scary sometimes what people are really looking for when they find my website. Here’s a quick sampling of what I’ve posted:

vagina pictures miro

Joan Miro (1893-1983): Spanish surrealist painter known for his use of brilliant pure color and the playful juxtaposition of delicate lines with abstract, often amebic shapes. Sure, sounds vaginal enough to me. But I’m afraid this, number five on Google’s list, doesn’t have the pictures you’re looking for, buddy boy.

steve guttenburg crotch

I don’t know what worries me more: that someone was looking for Steve Guttenberg’s crotch; that the words Steve, Guttenburg, and crotch actually appear on my website; or that if you spell the name correctly Google will offer you no less than forty-two separate possibilities. The man brought us Police Academy, people. Haven’t we suffered enough?

german dungeon porn

Mom? If you were in a German Scheisse video, you… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you…? How cliche can you get? My website probably isn’t what you’re looking for, buddy boy. Unless, of course, you really were looking for this.

hazing naked

There’s another way?

big teat

A man (or woman) who knows what he wants. Alas, this probably isn’t it.

area 51 hooters

Hmm. I didn’t know there even was a Hooters restaurant in Roswell. Shows what I know.

For some strange reason, out of the blue, Jed sent me this through ICQ. It’s a surprisingly catchy children’s song by Chantal Goya rendered in Shockwave, and although my French is a little rusty, it seems to be about a rabbit who shot some hunters with a gun. It’s silly. Here’s Google’s not-quite-right translation of what she’s singing.

A smorgasbord of photographs. And yes, that’s me in the Viking helmet. I was at a night of improv comedy with the Penn State Monty Python Society, and at times like that it’s best to blend in and act silly.

Incredible, absolutely incredible. A mother sends ashes to have her son’s student loan discharged, and the loan officers mistake it for anthrax.

Found via Boing Boing.

The first snowfall of the season

is a wet and messy affair, shortlived,

of little consequence,

and interrupted quickly by the sun.

There is little evidence to suggest a repeat performance.

And yet, for those few moments, we are like children again,

gawking at windows, amazed it is this cold,

anxious and afraid for the winter we know is coming.

We have had no warning,

and we are not dressed warmly enough for this.