“Someone in Zurich, Zurich Switzerland googled ‘kiss my private’ and came to my blog.”

“At least they didn’t put it in quotes, right?”

“Good point.”

“Yesterday someone googled ‘picture of two people hunched over doing homework.’”

“That’s funny, because we only hunch over our computers, doing anything but homework.”

“Yeah. And it’s like, learn to use the Internet already!”

Super sasstacular searches that ultimately lead to the blogdom of sass kissing:
* kiss brown dye
* sharp atwood
* a baby by buster
* kiss my gluteus maximus
* mother forced my hair cut
* entj christian jesus
* lost my marbles
* cubic difference diamond money rich
* at least i enjoy what i do
* gluteus maximus picture galleries
* login horizon train smart
* meekus
* hair turned orange
* emily s kiss
* go ahead have another donut
* chico pea chair

Gosh, you mention bun huggers once and it starts a frenzy of people searching for cross country booty! I can only imagine what kind of searches Dooce is getting, writing about Count von Count’s love life:

“You may not consider two different women as a string of lovers, but the Count is over 1.8 million years old and he’s still young enough at heart to call his lover a Chocolate Cake. By all indications he’ll be bumping hot, new vampire butt FOR A WHILE.”

“Friends” is on. I didn’t turn it on. For the record, I have never turned on “Friends.” I wasn’t even watching it … well, casual and somewhat prolonged glances. One by one the housemates went back to their cages rooms. I don’t realize this until the last person says goodnight. I’ve watched about two episodes already. And it’s too interesting to turn off. Yet, I’m still convinced that I don’t get the housemates’ jokes, nor do I watch the show.

And now when I go to turn it off, it’s an episode I’ve never seen. My life is tragic.

I’ve been away for 10 days and now it’s time to get everything back together. I’ve neglected school work, work and, to be honest, personal hygeine. Hey, it was either make my flight or take a shower. I wish I could have chosen the shower.

The thing I hate most about catching up is checking my email. Long gone are the days when email is another way for people to say they love me or send something funny. Now it’s a leash. Instead of love on the other end, it’s demanding people. They’re quite rabid, really. I just want to yell to them I’M JUST ONE PERSON TRYING TO LIVE ONE DAY AT A TIME! LEAVE ME ALONE!

Look at Christine’s pictures!

Word to the wise: don’t just think you can get a software serial code online. No sir, or ma’am. I clicked on the Macromedia Dreamweaver MX 2004 serial number link. It was innocent. I lost my paid-for serial number box … very paid for … somewhere. Instead of finding the all-important code, I saw PORN! Lots and lots of porn! It was nasty.

I scream and my friends instantly look at the computer screen. I’m using Matt’s computer and I thought I ruined it. I clicked red boxes, but it wouldn’t go away. It only multiplied! Like on the deleted scene in “Love Actually.”

So friends, don’t be stupid like me. Download the torrent instead. Amen.

The truffles have me scared. I’m avoiding them and the cold as I have returned to the covers of my bed. Still working on cleaning the iTunes. Found my old music videos. Next to Beck’s “New Pollution,” this is my favorite:

I’ll forgive them for losing my bag. They sent me a Thanksgiving e-card.

Donuts of the world, beware! It’s judgement day!

No, I did not have another donut binge.

Oh, you deserve to sleep in. Go ahead, press the little snooooooze button.

I know I deserve to sleep in. I got in at 1:30. This noise at 9 a.m. is not sleeping in.

But I got up yesterday!

Amen! The yellow, fat, balding, donut-holding Homer made a compelling argument.

Marge, is there such a thing as the cake fairy?

These lines were quickly followed by two hearty giggles from these two:

They spent the night at our house because the littlest one is at Children’s Hospital. He has been sick since Wednesday, and it turns out he has asthma.

So if you think of it, pray for the little guy. He’s the sweetest little boy you could ever meet. And while you’re praying for him, pray for my mom. She’s scrambling to get Thanksgiving together. As she said, the only time she’s come close to a turkey was when she put it in the freezer at my grandparents’ house. I’m making truffles. Boycott non-chocolate pies! There’s no such thing as a holiday without chocolate.

Grumble.

Gee. I’m hungry. But I ate all my bagels and toster strudel last week. You can’t have Pringles and Ice Cream for breakfast. At least not admittedly.

What to do? GRRRRRUMBLE. What to do?!

Then I see the tower. Six to-go boxes stacked high on the counter. It was a skyscraper of Starbucks leftovers! Bliss bars, espresso brownies, CUPCAKES! There are mini cakes people! (Thinking about how cupcakes are little cakes makes my day just a little brighter.)

Down the tile lane was the tightly-packed, iced pound cake subdivision. But I need to stay focused. I’m on a mission for chocolate. A little more searching in the donut ‘burbs and there they were. Chocolate topped cake donuts. My favorite. One point five donuts still remained.

I’ll just have that person’s half.

Just a half. “No biggie,” I say. I don’t know who is listening. No one is home. But if they were, they would think I was okay because I just ate half.

Mmmm. The chocolate was so amazing. That half piece was more like a quarter. I’ll make up for it by breaking off another generous quarter. It’s been a hard week. Mmmmm. Quality chocolate. Just a bite more … mere crumbs clumped together.

I always say that I never learned fractions. I never saw it valuable until now. My life is destined for a math book:

Emily has one and a half donuts. First she eats a half. She changes her mind and calls a half a quarter. Then she eats a generous quarter which is actually a half. After one, two, five bites … how much later should she start on the cupcakes?

I’m still in the process of cleaning my computer. It isn’t even a year old, but it’s already telling me i have disk space issues. One of the ways I’m fixing this is organizing my itunes. I am deleting about three songs a day, on average and I still have to many.

Besides my separation anxiety with my nerdy favorites I already mentioned, I’m having trouble. Lies down on couch. Proceeds to spill guts about entire life.

I feel guilty about deleting my Christian music. I used to like it, I could like it later (not likely, but maybe). I think I can trace this guilt back to my childhood (what doesn’t), when I believed everything had feelings. I couldn’t have favorite stuffed animals, because the other ones would be sad. It would be wrong to sleep with just one. I couldn’t roll over because every stuffed animal I owned was with me on my twin bed.

What hasn’t entred my mind, however, is that I should feel guilty about having them in the first place. Illegally downloading God’s music?! Shameful! But I can’t delete it! I feel like I would be less of a Christian if I deleted God’s music! It’s there for a purpose: to improve the state of my soul. Unlike Madonna’s “Hung up” which is just there for me to gyrate and jump around. But that stuff makes me happy.

Again, I am controlled by my contradictory nature.