You Didn’t Actually Ask Me to Write About This Stuff But You Sort of Did By Searching For It.

Well, you searched in vain because those search terms you looked up that sent you my way were not even remotely in what I had written. Until now! Yes, welcome to another installment of requests. You asked for it by searching for it and now I deliver. You’re welcome.


What’s the movie about a detective trying to rescue a girl from a witches coven?

I deliberated on this and was about to say that I didn’t know, but then I realized I do know. The Wicker Man. This 1973 classic stars Christopher Lee and Edward Woodward and concerns a detective who is sent information involving the disappearance of a girl on Summerisle in the Scottish Orkneys. Once he gets there he is continually thwarted in his search of the girl by the townspeople, including her family, who seem to deny her very existence, and gradually this staunch Christian policeman becomes convinced she is being prepared as a sacrifice for a coven of witches. There was a remake made in 2006 with (gag) Nicholas Cage.

I am very ambivalent about this movie. First off, it is very good, but second it always leaves me with that sort of gut sinking feeling of nausea. I don’t know why but this movie horrifies me far more than any serial killer or torture porn. One reason being because of the actual wicker man.

wicker man

I do not understand why it has fingers. There is absolutely no reason to give it fingers. They will not help it’s usefulness or function. They are there only to make it look a bit more like a man. I can’t even look at the thing without it giving me the hebbie jeebies. It’s like looking at submerged things for me. Not to mention


I have always found two things terrifying; mob mentality and being burned alive. So, yeah, both those things happen.


But there is another completely incongruent fact about this film; it’s a musical. Yes, you read that right, this atmospheric, gut sinking film is a musical. Why? I have no idea. Does it add anything? Not really. In fact, when talking about this film I often forget to mention to potential viewers that it’s a musical, just because it really doesn’t seem like it should be. And I try to ignore the fact as much as possible. And I LIKE musicals. Even so, when Britt Ekland strips down and starts banging on a wall during her big number it’s enough to make the audience realize that this is a really weird place, if not a really weird movie. In that respect, I suppose it’s effective.


What a bong.

This isn’t really a question. It’s a string of words together that don’t really mean anything. I take this to mean one of two things; What IS a bong? or Whoa, that’s huge, what a bong! So I will go ahead a tackle both those phrasings.


n. A dull resonant sound as of a bell.

n. A smoking device, usually made of glass or plastic, with a cylindrical piece connecting to a chamber with which to put water. Aids in the smoking of marijauna.

Since my mind went immediately towards the second definition I am just going to assume that whoever found my blog by searching “what a bong” was referring to the smoking device. In which case, my definition sort of reminds me of a recent Parks and Recreation episode where the lead character Lesley Knope (Amy Pohler) was being interviewed by a local NPResque radio station and the smooth voiced gentleman felt it necessary to explain the character of Batman, when Lesley used the bat signal as a metaphor, as “a children’s character about a man who wears a suit and fights crime nocturnally”. Meaning, of course, who the hell doesn’t know what a bong is? Unless you’re ten. Oh god, that person might have been ten and found my blog. That brings up a whole new question in responsible blogging.


In this case I suppose whoever searched this saw (or heard) some enormous bong and felt the need to immediately look up “what a bong!” (I added the exclaimation mark for added oomph). In this case, here are a few pictures of ridiculous bongs. I once saw one that went up a flight of stairs. Oh college.







BJ obsessed teens for satan.

Doesn’t this sound like it should be the name of a support group? I mean, right? A place where boys and girls of the subculture that enjoys both blow jobs and Satan can get together and commiserate their predilection. Because, well actually, they don’t just enjoy the BJ part of the equation, they are obsessed.

I’d like to think this was some teenager being funny but I know it was probably some fifty year old white woman who lives in Kentucky with two children around the age of thirteen. She probably heard that so and so’s daughter from Main Street Presbyterian was caught giving her boyfriend a blowie in the back seat of his father’s car and immediately assumed the natural assumption: she was posessed by the devil. I mean, there really is no other reason for wanting to do that, right? Right?!



Mutant penis.

Whoa now. I don’t know what I could have possibly written about that would draw this sort of search, but okay, I’ll accept it. I don’t suppose my best friend was writting about a hobo with a screwdriver when someone looked that up either. Mutant penis. I suppose I could look at this several ways, either a penis which belongs to and is therefore attached to a mutant. Which calls to mind the X-Men. So is someone wondering about Wolverine’s junk? I suppose that’s possible, I’m sure a million lonely housewives wouldn’t mind thinking up Hugh Jackman’s stuff on a routine basis. Or, Mallrats style, they’re wondering if everything on Mr. Fantastic is stretchy (though, strictly speaking, not a mutant).

But upon discovering that someone looked up “mutant penis” and found me, Marvel comics were not what I had in mind. All I could think of was some sort of fifty foot mutant penis rampaging through a medium sized city. And then I thought; that has to be the plot of a porn. Somewhere, sometime, that had to be the plot of a porn.

I’m not going to post any mutant penis pictures because I really just don’t want that sort of image to come popping up if anyone ever googles “eating fast food alone in the car”. I have some standards.


What’s the movie where two sisters fall for the same guy and he gets run over by a lawn mower?

Well, I hope none of my readers were too concerned with knowing the end of The Man in the Moon.

man in the moon

This movie came out in 1991 when the London brothers were still relavent, because it stars Jason. It also stars a pre-Law & Order Sam Waterson and Reese Witherspoon in her feature film debut.

I saw this movie when I was little at my friend Emily’s house. She had recently moved to the middle of nowhere and was having a sleepover so I made the trek to Hudson, Ohio to eat popcorn, gossip, sleep in sleeping bags on the floor, and watch feel good movies where the lead character gets run over by a tractor at the end. I was horrified. Horrified. To be honest, though, I wasn’t enjoying the movie all that much prior to this grisly death. My ten year old self found it a little boring until the grand finale when I wondered what the hell the point was.

Here’s the rundown. Dani (Witherspoon) and Maureen (an actress who doesn’t matter) are sisters and best friends until Dani meets Court and the two become friends despite his being seventeen to her fourteen and her debilitating crush on him. Dani and Court hang out repeatedly throughout the film and eventually kiss, but then Court locks eyes on Maureen and becomes immediately transfixed. Court and Maureen end up doing it in a field and in some sort of sex haze Court thinks it would be a good idea to immediately jump on his tractor and finish the field work. In a startling turn of events he falls off the machine and is run over by the plow.

I haven’t seen this movie since then, perhaps it will have grown on me.


About Lindsay

I have a C'est Moi page, you should probably just read that.
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One Response to You Didn’t Actually Ask Me to Write About This Stuff But You Sort of Did By Searching For It.

  1. Emma says:

    The fingers – yes that is so true. Horrible.
    The Man in the Moon – I remember that from so many years ago. Thank you for reminding me.

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