Jam Session.

27 Jul

The internet can be a dark and dangerous place. This is no secret. There are freaks and pervs surfing the web 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I know this, because their freaky, socially unacceptable, and wildly inappropriate search terms that lead them to my website show up in an organized list-format for me to look at every day. This week’s winners for creep-ass of the year? Let’s take a look:

vagina decorate

hot bare vagina

jewelry of your vagina

raves stabbing with needles

elementary vagina

cheez whiz cancer

retard asian

Quite the melting pot of search terms, wouldn’t you say? Who are these people? I can only imagine what it is they’re attempting to research during their lunch breaks at their menial office jobs, or at 1:45 a.m. alone in their basements. What in the sam hill does “elementary vagina” mean? Ew. Why don’t one of you readers go ahead and Google it and see what pops up, then get back to me with the 4-1-1. I’d do it myself, except that I don’t want to have that term on my web history. It makes me feel like I might end up in jail.

I am really into apricot jelly right now. For the longest time I insisted that only strawberry jelly was acceptable on a PB&J. Later I grew to accept grape. Recently, however, Trent has broadened my horizons when it comes to the dynamic duos of peanut butter and various jellies. I can’t get enough of apricot jam. It is so sweet and delectable. It’s warm, amber glow just invites my incisors to mow down my sandwich every day with great enthusiasm. You must try it. It’s soooooo gooooooood. I just want to curl up inside my sandwich, in between the soft, inviting slices of wholesome wheat bread, and snuggle down in the ooey gooey goodness of the apricot preserves.

I feel weird for saying that.

…I’m not taking it back.

My birthday weekend was a great success. Trent and I rode the Amtrak from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, checked into the Penn’s View Hotel, and ran around to do some vintage/thrift store shopping. More on that later, and the great successes of our newly acquired booty. We ate at L’Angolo, an Italian restaurant there which was absolutely delicious, and then the next day spent some time with the Doyles and consumed a delicious Philly cheesesteak. Yum.

I ate a LOT of garbage this weekend. A lot. Between the copious amounts of local restaurant food in Philly and the gigantic sweets-loaded package my mother sent me, my teeth are scheduled to fall out between 5 and 7 pm Central Daylight time tomorrow, and my stomach lining has deteriorated into wet tissue paper. Twix bars, brownies, 7-layer cookies, Warheads, chocolate covered cookie dough bites, Bazooka bubble gum, veal stuffed ravioli, Juicy Fruit, chocolate torte, spaghetti and meatballs, a Philly cheesesteak, pork sausage pizza and breadsticks—goodbye, figure. Hello plus size. I need to eat nothing but lettuce and lemon water this week to compensate for my erratic consumption behavior. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Ta ta.


“What if we named our dog ‘Blackass?'”


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