Posts Tagged ‘google’

Phew. (Also, a note to Aussie.)

June 17, 2010

Okay, all. Snort just had his doctor’s appointment regarding his leg creases/hip. She said his legs are perfectly even (same length) straightened or bent, and she’d be very surprised if something was wrong.

She is, though, going to refer him for an ultrasound just to make sure.

All this sounds great, no? The FUN part is that while his exam took maybe 5 minutes at most, she then spent 10 minutes on GOOGLE trying to figure out if she should send him for an x ray or an unltrasound because of his age.


Aussie and I joke that we ourselves are doctors, in consultation with our friend and colleague Dr. Google. I guess this medical appointment was proof that The Doctah Is In The Hizzouse. Dr. Google, anyway.

I’m not too worried about the fact that she got her information from Dr. Google, because she did seem to know what she was talking about. And she was going to send him for a x ray before Dr. Google told her she was fucking crazy and his hip age still required an ultrasound.

Two doctors are better than one, hey?

The funny thing is that I mentioned I’d been googling to see what uneven hip creases meant while she was examining him, and she looked at me like I had a plague of Stupids living in my head. Imagine my joy (and consternation, truth be told) when I glanced at the computer – and only because Snort was throwing himself forward trying to get at the keyboard.

Seeing the google logo as the header of a screen when you have concerns about your baby? Take it from me, that shit is only comforting in the privacy of your own home, as you wield your magic fingers searching for the answers. She searched for ‘investigation of hip d_____’ (whatever the word), and I was like, ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’ At least she took her final referral info from what appeared to be a research study.


You can only mute things after the damage has been done. Lesson one.

April 28, 2009

Put yourself in my place: you’ve got builders over who are installing a new patio door. You are a chicken and also the lounge is covered in man things, so you are hiding in the bedroom. (You had work calls to make, so feel justified in avoiding noise….less like you are a crazy person.) You are not really eating or peeing, and you are awaiting the moment these men leave with baited breath.

There is a lot of backward-and-forwarding going on in the hallway, as you sit in your nursing glider and wobble back and forth. You are essentially looking like a normal human being, but your back is starting to scream because you really ought to: 1) lie down 2) cook some food and then lie down again.

Killing time, you look at the websites that somehow magically lead back to your own, and you find this:

Remember, you are trying to be nice and quiet. The volume on your computer is a normal level for listening to music or watching clips of lesbian talk show hosts. So, anyway. You click that link.

The front page comes up. Intriguing. Cute? What IS it?

You click ‘enter’ JUST as some guy is walking past your chair, in your quiet library of a house. Do it. Go to the link and enter the page – not just the main page, but make sure to click the little linksie at the bottom to actually enter the site. Feel the burn, baby.

For some reason, I found this very funny.

February 2, 2009

Searches people have done today that landed them on my blog:

swaying breasts
clear goopy vaginal discharge
are driving tests cancelled in snow
driving test snow cancelled
are driving tests cancelled in snow
driving test cancelled because of snow
stalker tendencies
hash browns

I think you’ll find, my friends, that driving tests ARE cancelled in snow. There’s a phone number on your appointment letter you can ring. But also know that bombs made out of poisonous ice could be flying from the sky, and the driving people would be non-commital. They will essentially force you to drive to the test centre so that you can be given a letter informing you that snow is not ‘a normal road condition’ and that your test is cancelled.

Clear goopy vaginal discharge = good. Usually.

Swaying breasts – man, this reminds me I need to shower so I can wear a bra.

Hash browns – mmmm. Except I got sick off them recently, so I am wary.

Smiling underneath.

October 31, 2008

Searches that bring people to my page usually make me laugh, but sometimes make me worry. I mean, I’m just not delivering here. Today someone searched for ‘why are exorcisms necessary?’

I don’t know how the fuck google hooked my page up to info about exorcisms – or have I actually talked about them?

People also seem very interested in hot latin grandmothers, lesbian breast reductions, and the New Kids on the Block. Hmmm.

Is it me, or are people a wee bit screwed up? Well, judge not lest ye be judged. God knows I’ve searched for some doozies in the past – including desperate days that featured me frantically typing, ‘When the fuck will I get a new job?’ into Google.

Happy Halloween, anyway. I’m off sick today. Looking forward to pumpkin carving and shitty ghost hunt programmes this evening. TMD started my day delightfully, with a gross halloween goblet full of chocolate eyeballs and skulls. That’s love, folks.

Speak to you soon, no doubt.

Gay musings.

August 27, 2008

People keep finding this diary by googling ‘How can I tell if I’m gay’ or some variation. I tell you, if you’re even questioning, good for you!

I realised this morning that I simply did not realise that the way I saw the world and my place in it was any different from the way other people perceived things. I’m currently rereading House of Stairs, a book I read over and over as a child – and the gay subtext is HUGE. This never occured to me as a child. On one level, why would it? Rainbows and other ‘gay clues’ were not in my vocabulary then. However, one teen boy blatantly in love with another?

I guess it just didn’t strike me as odd.

I also knew I read Hey, Dollface and Annie on my Mind – and the second a good many times. A few years ago I went on a kick to buy childhood/adolescent books I’d liked. I was completely shocked when they were lesbian books – no clever little side story, but THE main plot of the books. Particularly the Annie one (one of the best books ever – read it now!!)…

Is it odd I found my way to all sorts of hidden away homosexual books? Is it strange I never thought reading them was cladestine, unnatural, etc?

I told TMD this surely ups my gay rating. I also went on a big theoretical lecture tour (just to TMD, you understand) about why my first MA and PhD were all about dystopian texts – books where the vast majority of society is living life a certain way, and usually quite enjoying it. The heroine/hero, though, they feel different inside, often having to go on a great life-threatening text to create a place they can be themselves – or, in fact, compeltely alter society for the better.


Other great gay books I should read?

Rabbit stew, anyone?

August 3, 2008

Today someone found my journal by searching for, ‘How do I know if I’m a stalker?’

I think if you have to ask yourself that question, things are definitely getting out of hand.

God bless google, font of all medical advice.

May 16, 2008


Yes, you heard me, YAY.

You know I had all those blood tests? Well, I got them back and told you all my hormones were within the normal range. Part of me was nervous because my levels were very low in the normal range, and I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Thanks to the power of Google, I know my LH and FSH hormone levels classify as ‘excellent.’ I also know my low temps aren’t a concern, as I’ve been tested for every sort of thyroid problem in advance. My doctor really is a star, and it’ll be sad to leave her behind. She’d be great for ante-natal care.

Anyway. YAY HORMONES. My ovaries kick ass. Perhaps I can forgive my body for PMDD, considering.

Me: I’m so fucking annoyed. Mom: I can tell.

April 26, 2008

Here’s how a chain of destruction works. It’s Saturday, late morning. It’s the first day the sun has really properly shown itself in about three weeks; you can feel the heat even when you’re sitting indoors, in shadow. You haven’t written an essay you have had two months to complete.

Yesterday you decided to ring the tutor and ask her if you could change from an interesting topic to a shitty-shitty-bang-bang one because, well, it would be a lot easier. You’ve got six months work of journal articles, studies, and pictures of human genitalia spread across your bed. You spent seven hours online yesterday and did not write one word.

This morning you and your partner went feverishly through clothes – ‘too big!’ ‘too ugly!’ ‘GET RID OF IT!’ (She, too, has an essay to write.) And you dusted because some lady was coming round to see your flat and value it.

You’ve now been online for about 1.5 hours. You logged into WordPress before doing anything else. You checked if there were any new comments (sob), looked at your stats (Google search:  ‘stalkers instruction book’ brought someone to your page yesterday), looked to see if anyone had updated their blogs (fuck, no), and then went to tag surfer.

And there it began. A stranger’s diary intructed you to go to a page called ‘Typeracer,’ so you went. You know, trying to be amicable.

The next thing you know, you are feverishly inputting words at a rate of like 100 words a minute. You don’t stop to consider that at that rate, your 3,500 word essay could be finished quite quickly. No, you don’t think, you can’t think, because the only thing that matters is beating random strangers at typing quotes.

When you finally tear yourself away from that banal pleasure, you start writing this diary entry. A few minutes into it, you realise your mother has sent you an email with the tracking number for the package you’ve been waiting for. You have a personal grudge against the main postal service in your adopted country, and prepare to ring them with something that can only be described as gleeful rage.

Oop – update. You just got off the phone with them. You had a very polite rage fest at the nice lady, and are now on the phone line with the parent company. You realise you cannot wait until you move to your new place, because there is no tricky locked front door and the post office has no excuse for not leaving a ‘while you were out’ slip.

Okay, the main postal service says they do not have it. This is no surprise, as the post office in the country it was sent from said it was sent by Those Bitches In The Red Trucks. TBITRT told you that if the postal service didn’t have it, you could call them back and have an investigation launched. You plan to do this because TBITRT are, truly, bitches, and they have fucked you over one time too many.

You call back. The robot lady says, ‘I’m sorry. The office is closed. No one can talk to you until Monday.’


You are now on the phone with your mother. You have still not written a word of your essay.

I heart Google search poetry. Next challenge: no words of my own.

April 1, 2008

Feeling like throwing up but not really.
The facts stand on their own:
lesbians want babies,
I can’t find
my ideal job, grammatical error

At this stage of life
you never know.
I may write
life changing novels,
or I might
poop in public. Perhaps both.

And now, a poem composed of search terms people used to find my diary….

March 30, 2008

good things to say about your love probably don’t
neck massage consequences, confused
about my sexuality,
motility rate. Love would be a happier place
just if
people spoke up more about their love and
said things like, ‘he bought me a transformer
mcdonald’s toy
, and then we
ate butternut squash enchaladas, while i whispered
italian endearments in his ear.
this was sexy until it clogged up his ear,
and he had to keep shouting, WHAT?’

yes, those would be love stories to remember.