I, For One, Bow to Our Great Google Overlord, Part Two

I'm continuing my series on most Googled search terms. After my post on God, I saw viewership grow as people stumbled upon this blog by Google searching the divine creator.

Next on the list is everyone's favorite teen heartthrob, Justin Bieber. I confess, I feel conflicted posting about him. Essentially, I'm revisiting old territory:

Alas, my previous post on the Beeb didn't bring in extra traffic, but I posted about him early in the blog's life. These days, the Google machine is on my side, so I anticipate a large traffic increase after blogging about Justin Beaver.

It makes me a feel a little icky to use a child to grow my blog, but hell, his song-writers, swag coaches, auto-tune specialists, and his parents are capitalizing off his pretty boy looks and smooth Proactive skin. Why can't I?  

I don't actually know that much about Justin Bieber, and I don't want people to catch me Google searching him, so here's a round-up of all the information I've gleaned about J.B. over the years through Facebook, social media, and believe it or not, The New York Times.

1. Justin Bieber has his own perfume. For women. Because all women want to channel the odor of a pubescent boy.

2. Justin Bieber has famous hair. Remember that hairstyle all the boys wore in middle school? He has that haircut. Somehow, he made a hairstyle worn by 90% of all boys famous.

3. Some people claim Justin looks like a lesbian. In fact, there's an entire website dedicated to lesbians who look like Justin Bieber. It's truly fascinating stuff.

The above is not Justin Bieber. That's a lesbian masquerading as Justin Bieber... Mind. Blown.

4. It's really hard to remember to how to spell "Bieber." It's one of those tricky German names. Is it Bieber or Beiber? I can't really remember, but I'm going with "Bieber."

5. Justin Bieber is dating an actress named Selena Gomez. I'm going to pretend they fool around by holding hands and sending air kisses.

6. A random 20 year old girl accused Justin Bieber of impregnating her, resulting in a baby boy and paternity suit. Someone needs to alert these people that holding hands and air kissing do not result in pregnancy, so there's no way Justin is the father.

7. I figure a lot of people will find this blog post by searching for photos of Justin Bieber. I don't feel like finding Bieber pictures, so here are photographs of Ian posing as Justin:

Happy Thanksgiving from Winiferd in the Burbs

It's Turkey Day (and Tofurkey Day) everyone! This year, I actually got to spend Thanksgiving with this guy, who was out of town last year:

We ate tons of food with my family, and with Ian's mama who came to town. The dog sampled gravy and then this happened:

And New Daddy was thankful for this bountiful blessing. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Thanks for reading!

The Winiferd House Gets a Makeover: Part One

Remember when I said Ian and I were redecorating the house? The entire house? And I told everyone I'd post an update, resplendent with before and after pictures? Remember?

Way back in August, Ian and I got to work transforming the house, attempting to bring the 1950's ranch style home into the 21st century.

I consider myself a fairly easy-going person, apt to go with the flow, but when when it comes to home decorating, I start frothing at the mouth. I take home design waaaaaaay too seriously.

When I started dating Ian, it was with the knowledge that he was a home-owner and that his home would eventually become my home.

And, well, the house had wood paneling. Every singe surface of the enormous front room was dark brown. The cabinets were the same brown as the wood paneling. It was like cabinet camouflage. Lots of brown. Brown, brown, brown, brown. Apparently, people in the 1950s loved brown.

Let me tell you something about an entirely brown house: it's scary. Like, horse ghost scary.

On Friday nights, Ian would go to bed earlier than me, while I would stay up watching movies. And I was terrified. Lit only by lamps and enclosed in wood paneling, the house looked like a cave inhabited by witches. Also, witch ghosts.

I was terrified of being alone in the house at night.

Err, and the day.

I would take vacation days from work and stay at Ian's house the entire time. I would wake at 8:30 am, eat breakfast, take the dog for a walk, and then haul my ass out of there by 10:00 am.

I would toss the dog in the car, and we would go to my parents' house for the day. I would call Ian at about 3:00 pm to ask what time he'd arrive home from work, and then beat him home by about ten minutes. Hi, Ian! I've been here all day! Just enjoying this wood paneling!

Ian eventually caught on.

Ian: "Why do you always leave the house when I'm gone?"

Laura: "Because it's scary. Witch ghosts arrive when you leave. They love the wood paneling."

Ian: "Witch ghosts?"

Laura: "Yeah. The Paranormal Activity movies are really dumb. Demons don't haunt McMansions. They haunt little houses like this."

Ian: "That's actually quite true."

At that point, we began plotting how to redecorate the house. We decided to paint the wood paneling yellow and the floor a light shade of teal.

We traded the couches for a dining room table, and now the kitchen/ den is just a kitchen. Here are the before and after pictures:

Forgive the clutter. By this point, we had started painting and had piled most of our possessions on the counter.

This is why we painted the floor:

Again, with the clutter. We were deep into the redecorating at this point:

Ian: "This picture makes me feel anxious." As it should. This is what the house looked like when Ian underwent an emergency appendectomy:

After hours upon hours upon hours of work, here's the finished kitchen:

Laura: "Do you ever put up a Christmas tree?"

Ian: "No. I'm Buddhist."

Laura: "No...no Christmas tree? What if we called it a Buddhist tree?"

I love a decorated tree, so I bought two strings of white lights, and we strung them up on one of Ian's plants. Here's our Buddhist Christmas tree: 

Stay tuned. I'll post more about the home redecoration later.

I, For One, Bow to Our Great Google Overlord, Part One

Ian and I are still chugging along on the home decorating, which was put on hold several times due to work schedules, educational pursuits, and an appendix that threatened to burst out of Ian's stomach, a la Space Balls:

We spent much of the weekend painting. Since a post consisting of, "We painted. No, I cannot show you what we painted," would likely bore my five loyal readers (Hi, Ian's mom!), I've taken it upon myself to feature something that will mesmerize everybody.

Lately, more and more of my blog traffic has been driven by Google searches. People find this blog by Googling terms like, "how to grow sunflowers" (good luck, buddy), "alien holding its ear" (you'll fit in nicely), and "I ate pork my stomach hurts" (I know your soul).

Since obscure topics bring in so many page views, imagine what popular topics would do for my views. Why, I could pull in at least ten views a day! That's seventy views in seven days. Within a week, I could be famous!

Ladies and gentlemen, in an unabashed attempt to increase my blog traffic, I'm beginning a series of the most Googled people, places, and phrases.

Here's number one in the ongoing series:

1. God 

Lots and lots and lots of people Google search God. Since I'm trying to appeal to all people (peoples?), I thought I'd include various Gods of different religions:

And, of course, the American god:

Another List (Because I Love Lists)

1. I'm probably (certainly) obsessed with Winiferd:

Laura: "Do you think about Spottswood and Harvey when you're at work? Like, how much you miss them and how much you want to hug them?"

Ian: "No."

Laura: "Oh. Okay."

Ian: "Wait... Do you think about Winnie when you're at work?"

Laura: "Maybe. Sometimes. Yes."

Ian: "Good Lord, woman."

2. My obsession with Winiferd has grown into an obsession with wolves and their domestication into dogs.

Laura: "Winnie's a wolf."

Ian: "Hmm."

Laura: "No, really. She is a wolf. Her father was a wolf-dog hybrid. When wolves mate with humans, you get this":

Ian: "How disappointing."

Laura: "Seriously, though, isn't it crazy to think about how ferocious wolves evolved into needy, dependent dogs?"

Ian: <Turns to Winnie> "Winnie, how does it feel to have no purpose in life?"

Winnie: <Climbs into Laura's lap; licks Laura's nose>

Laura: "Luckily, she doesn't care."

3. My current Christmas list is damn ridiculous: 

Laura's Christmas List:

1. A doggy union suit

2. A doggy hoodie

3. A doggy raincoat

NOTICE A PATTERN?

4. My maternal feelings towards the dog have transferred over to the cats.

Laura: "I don't think it's fair. You make fun of Winnie, but I'm sweet to your cats."

Ian: "You run away from the cats whenever they get close to you. Or you swat at them."

Laura: "Harvey always swats back."

Ian: "I know."

Laura: "If I wasn't allergic to them, I'd be all up in their faces, putting baby bonnets on their heads and cramming them in baby carriages. They'd hate me if I wasn't allergic to them."

Ian: "That's true."

Laura: "I feel like I'm one of their strongest allies. Remember when Spottswood came out? And you kept saying, 'Spottswood's not gay.' I mean, the boy has a pink nose. He dances better than any girl in his ballet class. He told you he's interested in boys. But you still denied it."

Ian: <Giggles>

Laura: "But I told Spottswood that he's a beautiful rainbow and that Daddy would come around eventually. And now you encourage his interest in knitting dresses and wearing nail polish. 

Ian: "Yeah."

Ian, Meet Plague. Plague, Meet Ian.

Lately, Ian can't seem to catch a break. The man keeps catching the plague, in the most dramatic ways possible.

In happier times last Wednesday, before developing his newest form of "Unclean, Unclean!"

He picked up his latest version of pestilence this past Thursday.

Ominous warning for readers: Ian is severely allergic to poison ivy

On Thursday morning, Ian's face started burning. By Thursday evening, his face, eyes, and ear had grown violently red.

On Friday morning, his face looked puffy and swollen. (Also, itchy, burn-y, and violently red).

He went to the minor med and was diagnosed with poison ivy. In his face. Deep in the crevices of his eyes. Sprouting from his ear.

Laura: "What did you do? EAT poison ivy?"

After getting a steriod shot in the butt at the minor med

Ian's currently on strong poison ivy medication, containing both antihistamines and steroids.

Watch out. He's got the Roid Rage. Meaning he's lethargic, sensitive, and eager to talk about his feelings.

Laura: "Ever since you starting taking the pill, you've acted differently."

Ian: "Ever since I started taking the pill, I've felt differently. I feel irritable."

Laura: "I mean, I feel more secure that you won't get pregnant, but it's just not worth it."

Ian: "The side effects of the pill are intense."

Laura: "Well, it should make your periods lighter, at least. And help your cramps..."

Ian: significantly less puffy, significantly more emotional 

In addition to his severe allergy to poison ivy, Ian is also severely allergic to proud claims of perfect health.

Because, honestly, that's where this madness all began. Never tempt fate, kids. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

Six Months Ago:

Ian: "I never get sick! Ever!"

Twenty-Four Hours Later:

Ian: "I think I have a fever. My throat hurts. My body aches."

Over the past six months, Ian has come down with about 8 sinus infections, chigger bites, appendicitis, a subsequent hospital stay, and two bouts of poison ivy.

CAN WE PLEASE NOW APPEASE THE MIGHTY GODS WHO HAVE CURSED IAN? HE MEANT NO HARM BY HIS CLAIMS OF GOOD HEALTH. THIS SHIT'S GETTING OLD.

Thank you and good night, folks. I'm all caps-locked out.

Seen and Heard at Winiferd in the Burbs

While Walking Winnie:

Laura: "Look, our feet are in sync. That one's Justin and that one's Lance."

Ian: "And that one's Joey. Joey Fatone. Or rather, Joey Fat One."

Laura: "He was the fat one!"

While Cuddling on the Couch:

Ian: "I love you."

Laura: "I love you, too."

Ian: "I love you the mostest."

Laura: "I love you to infinity."

Ian: "I love you to infinity and beyond."

Laura: "I love you to infinity times twenty million, billion, trillion."

Ian: "I love you to infinity times twenty million, billion, trillion times another level of infinity times a billion."

Laura: "I love you more than the dog."

Ian: "Woah. You win."

Laura: "I love you a million times more than the dog."

Ian: "I know I should believe that. I want to believe it. But I don't think I do.

Public Service Sign at Kroger:

Kroger is a "safe place."

Definition of a "safe place": Where children may go in times of crisis, at which point an adult will grope their chests.

A Biblical Display at Bibles for China thrift store:

Disclaimer: We found this. We didn't create this. 

A Christian Center Named Ram in the Bush:

I am too classy too classy to point out the obvious joke.

Dirty joke? What dirty joke? 

In the Pet Smart Parking Lot with Winnie:

A woman spots Winnie and hangs out her car window: "What type of dog is that?"

Laura: "WINIFERD IN THE BURBS DOT BLOG SPOT DOT COM!"

How to Celebrate Your One Year Anniversary When You're Poor

1. Go to Fantastic Sam's and get cheap, long over-due haircuts. 

We both learned an important lesson: beware the $15 haircut. In all fairness, I had us bypass the $10 dollar haircuts at Super Cuts, figuring Fantastic Sam's might offer slightly better cuts.

I was wrong.

Ian: "They gave me a lesbian hair cut. I look like a lesbian. I have a bob."

Laura: "They gave me some sort of lady mullet. I asked for three inches off and slight layering. Instead, I got business in the front and a party in the back."

I dealt with my bad haircut by styling my 'do into what I like to call "The Puritan."

And Ian? Well, Ian currently wear lots of hats.

Which, subsequently, gives him a Little Dutch Boy look.

2. Save your cat from electrocution

I took Thursday and Friday off from work as part of my One Year Anniversary/ I Need A Break From Work celebration.

It was 2:00pm on Friday, and Ian was at work. I was sitting on the living room couch when I suddenly heard an enormous clatter in the kitchen.

I ran. I looked. I screamed.

"My boy's attempting suicide!" 

Harvey's paw was stuck inside an electrical outlet, left uncovered since we had been painting the kitchen. He flopped around on the kitchen desk, knocking off an old-fashioned phone and smacking himself against the wall. I grabbed his paw and tugged.

Harvey screeched.

Winnie barked.

I yanked Harvey free.

In the immortal words of Julius Caesar: Veni, Vidi, Vici.

I came; I saw; I conquered.

3. Find some orange tomatoes at the Botanic Gardens ("Those are Japanese persimmons, Laura"). 

Play with them.

4. Find an affordable kitchen table at an antique store after weeks of searching.

Haul it home. Realize your kitchen finally looks like a real kitchen. Love kitchen so hard that you want to stay home and stare at your new table instead of going to to a movie.

5. Snap out it.

Motor off to the same drive-in theater where you had your first date one year ago. Anticipate seeing Paranormal Activity 3. Realize the drive-in is only advertising Paranormal Activity 1 & 2.

Laura: "Maybe we're supposed to add 1 and 2 to get 3. So they're actually showing Paranormal Activity 3."

Ian: "That's what I figured."

At the ticket booth:

Ian: "I'd like two tickets for Paranormal Activity 3."

Ticket Booth Man: "I'm sorry. We're only showing 1 and 2."

6. Go to a regular movie theater.

Scarf sushi in the car.

Take photograph of mullet-y hair with camera phone featuring a harsh flash (since you dropped and broke your Cannon camera and had to send it away for repair). Stare at photo and wonder when it all went wrong.

7. Watch Paranormal Activity 3 with an audience full of teenage girls who keep screaming shrilly and teenage boys who who keep yelling the F-Bomb. 

Because they're genuinely freaked out, and oh my god, so are we. Laugh nervously at screams since we're scared and want to maintain street cred. Clutch each others hands. Feel adrenaline skyrocket. Suppress screams. Laugh manically.

8. After the movie in the comfort of your own car:

Laura: "That wasn't scary."

Ian: "It was lame. Not scary at all."

9. Go to sleep.

Wake up at 3:00am with a full bladder.

Inch towards bathroom, terrified of paranormal activity and satanic covenants. Feel too terrified to flip on the light, lest a demon fly through the mirror. Inch back to bed.

10. Wake up.

Confess to mutual feelings of 3:00am fear.

Because the demon was going to fly through the mirror.

And it was the best anniversary ever. Happy anniversary, Ian!