It’s time once again to examine some of those Wacky World Wide Web searches that lead unsuspecting Web surfers to dash themselves against the pointy and pointless rocks of Threshold Beach.
Let’s see what we’ve got.
Watchmen Babies
This is rapidly becoming the new Bikini Cavegirl. Just to be clear for anyone who doesn’t know, it was just a quick (and hilarious) throw-away gag on the episode of The Simpsons featuring Alan Moore. Milhouse asked Alan, “Mr. Moore, will you sign my DVD of Watchmen Babies?” At which point we see a DVD featuring the primary characters from Watchmen, as babies, waterskiing in an adventure titled V For Vacation. This, of course, sets Alan off on a rant about having the marrow sucked from his bones by evil corporations. There is no such product, and given that the video was taken down from YouTube, there’s not much I can do to help you even find the image.
Variations on “demotivational poster jailbait”
This is just barely behind Watchmen Babies for the number of hits it’s generated. I would assume you’re looking for this (fairly NSFW). Perverts. (It is a funny poster, though. There’s also this one. And this one. And several others. Note: The links might not actually take you directly to the pictures that I had intended them to, but the jailbait ones are easy to find at the site.)
flight attendant mind control chip
If I’d ever been on a flight that had a flight attendant who looked anywhere near as hot as flight attendants do in movies, I might well be tempted to invest in such a product, should it exist. Nothing related to such a thing can be found here, though. But my question is, is the mind control chip really profession-specific? Could you, for example, get it to work on someone who works for a technical recruiting company?
automatic doorsanimation
Uh, okay.
kirsten kemp cleavage
Personally, I’m a fan of it, but sadly, I have no images of it available.
ginger alexander beautiful
I wouldn’t go so far as to say beautiful.
xenosexuality
Found yourself a hot alien and are now busy trying to figure out how to get it on, huh?
direcpath speeds
Interestingly enough, the spell checker in Word suggests “Dire Path” as a replacement for DirecPath. As for their speeds, well, “slow as hell” is a speed.
And that’s it for another round of Keyword Kraziness. Keep those zany searches coming.
Showing posts with label jailbait. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jailbait. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Hey Look! A Threshold Post!
No, don't get your hopes up - my cable Internet connection is still out (this day 18).
I called in yet again today, doing the whole "irate customer at the limit of his patience" thing and, while getting another line of BS, learned that I've been getting nothing but lines of BS every time I've called.
I was informed that, contrary to what I was told before, there is no widespread outage, and, because there's no outage, no one is actually working on fixing it.
*Sigh*
So, once again tommorow, two weeks since the last time, I have the 10 hour window during which a technician will supposedly be arriving.
This time I can't actually sit and wait for the tech to not arrive - I have a training thing for work in the afternoon - so I, reluctantly, signed a key release at the leasing office to let the tech come in. Given that I'm sure he won't actually be coming here, I doubt that it's really an issue, but I don't like the idea of a stranger coming into my home when I'm not here.
The person I talked to claimed that she's put a note in the ticket that the tech is "not to leave until the problem is fixed." I'm sure that will work wonders.
In any case, that's how things stand here.
Sunday night I went to see Superbad with Brian and Kathleen and some of their friends at that new theater where Scott and I saw Stardust.
Holy. Freaking. God.
Funniest damn movie I've seen in a long time.
The only downside? I've never felt more like a pedophile in my life, thanks not only to the hot young girls in the movie, but some of the preternaturally developed hot young girls at the movie (damn farmers injecting everything with growth hormones, which find their way into the systems of developing young people).
For the record, all of the girls in the movie, despite how young they looked (Imagine, a movie about teens that starred people who actually look like teens.), are over 18. In fact, the one who looked the youngest is actually 23.
So that makes it slightly better, though still somewhat unsettling.
As the movie was starting, Kathleen asked me if I've ever written or thought about writing a screenplay, as she could see me writing something similar to Superbad.
I told her that I've never tried writing one, but that I have considered it.
Of course, that's only lately, and what's been kicking around in my head is not a teen sex comedy, but rather a biopic.
It's not something I'm likely to do - beyond my usual laziness and lack of motivation is the fact that this particular project would require a lot of researche and travel and and interviewing people, as the most readily-accessible information isn't sufficient to tell the whole story.
Even so, I'm not going to say who would be the subject of the movie, because if I'm not going to do it I don't want anyone else doing it either.
And no, it's not Jack T. Chick.
Anyway, I think that'll do it for this dial-update.
I called in yet again today, doing the whole "irate customer at the limit of his patience" thing and, while getting another line of BS, learned that I've been getting nothing but lines of BS every time I've called.
I was informed that, contrary to what I was told before, there is no widespread outage, and, because there's no outage, no one is actually working on fixing it.
*Sigh*
So, once again tommorow, two weeks since the last time, I have the 10 hour window during which a technician will supposedly be arriving.
This time I can't actually sit and wait for the tech to not arrive - I have a training thing for work in the afternoon - so I, reluctantly, signed a key release at the leasing office to let the tech come in. Given that I'm sure he won't actually be coming here, I doubt that it's really an issue, but I don't like the idea of a stranger coming into my home when I'm not here.
The person I talked to claimed that she's put a note in the ticket that the tech is "not to leave until the problem is fixed." I'm sure that will work wonders.
In any case, that's how things stand here.
Sunday night I went to see Superbad with Brian and Kathleen and some of their friends at that new theater where Scott and I saw Stardust.
Holy. Freaking. God.
Funniest damn movie I've seen in a long time.
The only downside? I've never felt more like a pedophile in my life, thanks not only to the hot young girls in the movie, but some of the preternaturally developed hot young girls at the movie (damn farmers injecting everything with growth hormones, which find their way into the systems of developing young people).
For the record, all of the girls in the movie, despite how young they looked (Imagine, a movie about teens that starred people who actually look like teens.), are over 18. In fact, the one who looked the youngest is actually 23.
So that makes it slightly better, though still somewhat unsettling.
As the movie was starting, Kathleen asked me if I've ever written or thought about writing a screenplay, as she could see me writing something similar to Superbad.
I told her that I've never tried writing one, but that I have considered it.
Of course, that's only lately, and what's been kicking around in my head is not a teen sex comedy, but rather a biopic.
It's not something I'm likely to do - beyond my usual laziness and lack of motivation is the fact that this particular project would require a lot of researche and travel and and interviewing people, as the most readily-accessible information isn't sufficient to tell the whole story.
Even so, I'm not going to say who would be the subject of the movie, because if I'm not going to do it I don't want anyone else doing it either.
And no, it's not Jack T. Chick.
Anyway, I think that'll do it for this dial-update.
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