I used to think that I had an interesting sort of mind. One that saw the world in a different light to the unwashed masses. A unique perspective that set me apart. I used to think that this made me a special little star.
Then I arrived home from work to find my driveway full of opened umbrellas. Lots of them. Just lying there unattended, like an unanswered question.
I started to fold them up, and instead found myself warding off a vicious attack from a small, naked, and very angry three-year old who appeared from nowhere to accuse me of “spoiling her hairstyles”. As she disappeared around the corner, half hidden by a rather fetching blue hairstyle with transparent panels, shouting “you are making my heart bleed!” my delusions of having a unique perspective on life began to recede in the presence of a true master.
It took a further knock when I got ready for my bath that evening. I couldn’t find the soap. Having had a lot of practice looking for my wallet recently, it didn’t take me long to find it. Behind the toilet. Chewed into little pieces.
It was the goddamn dog. Another mind that makes mine look pedestrian. I can imagine that lots of dogs might be interested by soap. They might give it a sniff. Since it doesn’t smell like bacon, most would leave it alone. Not the goddamn dog. Some dogs might even take an exploratory bite. Since it doesn’t taste like bacon, almost all would leave it alone. Not the goddamn dog. The goddamn dog obviously took one bite and decided “this is awful.” Chomp. “Why on earth do humans even keep this stuff?” Chew. “There is just no way I’m going to get through this.” Gnaw. “It’s got a vile chemical taste.” Bite. “My whole mouth is filling up with bitter slime!” Crunch. “Oh look! Bubbles!”
I am very ordinary. Any further ideas on that score were dealt with later that night when I fired up my laptop to check on my blog. I have grown obsessed with my stats; how many people stopped by? Where did they come from? Did they like it? I check up on these things every day (I’m still quite new at this, and it’s still all bright and shiny). What I had never done before, though, was to check on what search terms were being lead through to my blog. Wow. Most of them are fairly ordinary; searches for acacia trees or termites or celebrity mug shots. Some are slightly less so, like the ones looking for “things in count four” or Victorian mug shots.
Some though, are different. Like footmarks on a beach, they reveal the passing of the truly unique minds out there. The special ones. The ones who effortlessly achieve what I can only strive for- their own, unparalleled perspective on the world.
Here are some of their finest moments:
A man sits alone in a darkened room. His face is lit blue by the glow of the screen in front of him. At his fingertips sits a tool that connects him to the world. With a few choice keystrokes, he can find anything. Anything he can dream of. Google is his key to this universe of information. Breath catching in his throat, he leans forward and begins to type.
“I picked up my glasses”
He hits the enter key. What treasures does he find? What new worlds open up to him? Does he check out just one or two choice personal spectacle elevation sites before nodding firmly to himself, shutting down and wandering off to bed, satisfied, or does he soldier on, heart beating faster, palms beginning to sweat, with “I took a sip of water”? Nervous now, but driven as if by some external force, does he turn around nervously, straining to hear if his wife is still sleeping, before typing in “I took a packet of peanuts through to the TV room and sat down”? Yes. Yes. Yes!
Then there are the seekers after knowledge. Brave, inquisitive souls who just want to know more. Like the guy who spent a happy few moments looking for:
“Things that are 1 foot long”
How does this work. Was he shamed in front of his peers? Did the wag of the office call him out during a meeting with the CEO? “Hey Jenkins. Do you know what’s 1 foot long?” Did he look down at his empty notepad, face burning with shame, mumbling “No. No I don’t.” while silently vowing never to be caught out by this one again? Or is he just interested in things of particular lengths. Either way, I am saddened to think that he found no joy on my blog. Maybe soon I will write a couple of thousand words on the lengths of the world. The foot. The metre. The yard. The cubit. The furlong. Clearly there is an untapped market for this stuff.
There seems to be a whole subset of odd wildlife enthusiasts out there. First there is the person looking for “African wildlife humour”. I can only guess that there isn’t a lot of it out there. What disappointing evenings this person must have. Imagine what it must be like, going to bed every night have failed once again to find even one decent warthog joke. African wildlife just isn’t funny. Try Asia. Their wildlife is hilarious.
More serious in her approach is the woman looking for “afternoon wildlife images”. Just imagine her, up on the carpet again, while her manager rants and raves. “For God’s sake Miranda. These are morning wildlife images. See how the shadows all fall to the left. Why don’t you try again, and this time pretend that you’re not mentally deficient. I swear to God, if your uncle wasn’t vice-president of internal marketing you wouldn’t even have made it through the door”.
They’re not all funny-odd. Some are nasty-odd. Ugly-odd. Like the guy Googling “Boerboels against wildlife” It looks funny at a glance, like “Women against plant abuse” or “Doctors against Kenny G”. But it’s not. Boeboels are dogs. Big, strong dogs. Sometimes, they are fighting dogs. Dogfighting obviously isn’t enough for this guy though. I would hope that he found nothing. But it would be a fool’s hope.
I tend to blunder through life like a soporific Labrador puppy, blundering into situations without any plan or intention. I envy those out there who know what they want. Exactly what they want. Down to the last detail. Some of them have stumbled onto my page as well. How very sad it must have made them. I hope they went on to find what they were looking for. Exactly what they were looking for:
“Small ant holes”. Not big ones. Not even medium sized ones. Teeny tiny. Please.
“Scientist woman colouring pages”. Poor child. Poor, poor child. “Jim, I have no idea what could have happened, but little Suzie’s vegetarian achievers workbook seems to have burst into flames. Can you print her up a few scientist woman colouring pages to keep her busy while I go and buy her a new one.”
These two come across as being rather vague in comparison to the person who needs to find “little black worm eating alder bush leaves”. This must have been typed in by someone who had just seen a little black worm eating alder bush leaves. Was this a one-off, or is this a hobby? How rich their lives must be. See it, Google it, see it, Google it, every time you come in the door. “Large yellow bird eating juniper berries”, “Small blue butterfly drinking wild flower nectar”, “Large black bear eating neighbourhood child”. Just Googling what you see. See, see, see. Google, Google, Google.
Other people seem a tad more sinister. Worrying. Worthy of police attention. I’m not saying I’m absolutely positive that the person looking for “people who lied to Oprah” is up to no good. I’m just saying that I wouldn’t be surprised if a police murder investigation leads to a basement shrine, complete with a life-sized inflatable/deflatable Oprah Winfrey statue, Remember-Your-Spirit® candles, a corkboard full of pictures (half of which have the eyes cut out), and a realistic James Frey mask. Let’s just wait and see.
I wrote a post called “Ah, sex”. It wasn’t actually sexy or anything, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that I got a hit or two from the internet’s tireless brigade of porn searchers. You would think that it would be easy enough to type in “porn” and sit back and wait for the results to roll in. If you had special needs, you could narrow it down. “High heeled redhead transgender dwarf porn”, for example. I only got the outsiders though.
It started with “my first caning”. Nice. I only hope they weren’t going for authenticity. Apart from my sadly porn free blog, they must have hit on an awful number of meth raddled streetwalkers who were quite clearly not having their first caning.
Then it narrows down a little. “Ah-sex”. I am cheerfully naïve. Is ah-sex a thing? It must be. The intrepid searcher in question paused to hunt down the elusive hyphen key (think about it- you have to pause and hunt it down every time you need it). It does sound fun though, just that tiny bit more exciting than that boring old vanilla sex.
If you are keen to give it a try, you could always get onto Craigslist and try to find the guy (it can only be a guy) who was searching for an “oh ah sex friend”. He wouldn’t even be satisfied with an ah-sex friend. He needs some “oh” in there too. Good luck to him. I’m sorry he wasted his time with me. Eventually, when I run out of ideas, I might blog about ah-sex. I might even stretch as far as oh-sex. But together? That’s just inflammatory. But I suppose that (apart from good times, and bad times) that’s what friends are for.
I simply cannot think of anything to say about the guy (again, it’s a guy. It just is.) who took the time out of his busy day to type in “knickers found in gym bag sniff”. I’m not judging or anything, I’ve just never found any knickers in my gym bag. If I did, guess what I wouldn’t do?
Advice and information
Not all of us are thinking with the wrong parts of our anatomies. Some of us just want answers. Or a little guidance. Here at last I think I may be able to help. A couple of questions came up, and I will do my best to answer them.
I’ll start with an easy one first.
“Where did the serpent come from in the garden of Eden?”
The north. The serpent in the Garden of Eden came from the north. Magnetic north. Not true north.
I feel like I’m on a roll here. I’m going to move on to something a little more tricky.
“What are you supposed to do with colouring pages?”
I’m no expert, but I would imagine you’re supposed to colour them in.
“How to forgive a sister-in-law who attacked me”
I’m going to need a little more detail here. Did she launch herself out of a shrubbery, screaming for blood and brandishing a sharpened stick, or did she say something mean at a family dinner? If it’s the former, I would suggest sitting down with her and trying to sort out what made her do such a thing. You guys are family. Talk through your feelings and try to find some common ground. If it’s the latter, have her arrested. Nobody should have to put up with that shit.
“My wife has had sex abroad with a stranger what should I do”
This one just makes me sad. The rules of overseas infidelity, like the rules of punctuation, are very complicated. If she had had domestic sex with a stranger, you would need to decide whether you really loved each other, and maybe go for some counselling. Sex abroad, however, involves getting hold of some very expensive ointments and an effigy of Karl Marx. Get a divorce.
Like I say, I’m still fairly new at this. I can only hope that in the future, this sort of thing carries on. While I do find these people quite intimidating in their uniqueness, I want to learn. I want to get better. One day maybe I can be a special little star. It has just occurred to me, though, that I might be able to start a little closer to home.
I’ve never bought an umbrella. There are only four of us, and two of us see rain as an excuse to strip off and run outside (my wife has always been a little eccentric). We have seven umbrellas. One is shaped like a pig, complete with ears and a nose. There’s a dinosaur too, with a long spiky tail. There’s a double-layered Victorian parasol. One of us keeps buying umbrellas. It’s not me. The children don’t have any money. My wife is obviously a very particular (and peculiar) sort of shopaholic. Right now we’re up to seven, but spring is just starting. I can’t wait to see what surprises the summer may hold.
I think I may have found my guru. As soon as it stops raining, and my wife comes back inside and puts some clothes on, I’m going to sit her down and make her show me how to see the world differently.