asserific without pity:  Googleage returns

To celebrate the return of Googleage reports, this installment will feature only search terms for which I am the #1 hit.

"bird defecating on one's head"
This is supposed to be good luck. Uh...no, thanks.


"spork skirt"
Righteous. The fabulous Radioactive Jam is #2!


Juno Soundtrack-Listen
Tire Swing



Tree Hugger




"dogs I just like cats more"
I used to say that I didn't dislike dogs, I just liked cats more. And then? Well...


Incidentally, the #2 hit was an article on afterellen.com called "Lesbians and cats."


moldy egg salad images



how the eff do i get notes get on my blackberry?
Bwaha! Sorry, no idea.


crappy glasses
Every time I go to the optometrist, I fear that I'll answer one of the neverending series of "which looks better, one or two?" questions wrong and end up wearing bad glasses for a year. I also have trouble finding frames to fit my dainty face. Luckily, the ones I got last time are fab, and allow me to see pretty well to boot.


billy collins dog hates you
I've never found any lines to match this one, but I know of two Collins poems that involve dogs. One is sweetly funny and the other tells the truth and has always made me feel like crying, though I'm not sure it should.

Dharma
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

To a Stranger Born in Some Distant Country Hundreds of Years from Now
Nobody here likes a wet dog.
No one wants anything to do with a dog
that is wet from being out in the rain
or retrieving a stick from a lake.
Look how she wanders around the crowded pub tonight
going from one person to another
hoping for a pat on the head, a rub behind the ears,
something that could be given with one hand
without even wrinkling the conversation.

But everyone pushes her away,
some with a knee, others with the sole of a boot.
Even the children, who don't realize she is wet
until they go to pet her,
push her away,
then wipe their hands on their clothes.
And whenever she heads toward me,
I show her my palm, and she turns aside.

O stranger of the future!
O inconceivable being!
whatever the shape of your house,
however you scoot from place to place,
no matter how strange and colorless the clothes you
may wear,
I bet nobody there likes a wet dog either.
I bet everybody in your pub,
even the children, pushes her away.


Cat pictures 133t
Kitters is many things, but I don't think 133t is one of them.


damn it feels good to be a gansta kitty with hat



if you want to kill a swarm of locusts, nunchucks



Duns Scotus Flaming Ring
I was planning to link to a book about Penetrating Wagner's "Ring," because the customer reviews were sidesplitting. Alas, it seems Amazon UK caught on to the rampant and hilarious sexual innuendo and deleted all the reviews. Bollocks to you, Amazon UK.


YOUTUBE SPEARGRASS SISTERS MUSIC
No clue, but it led me to this cool, creepy Keats quote:  "Let spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage War on his temples."


nanny ogg's blog deer baby
SQUEE!