There's BEAUTY in my SEARCH STRINGS
2005

People ask me what it’s like to be a writer. Do they really want the truth, I ask myself? No, they don’t. What people want to hear is that I flounce around my house in a silk kimono with nothing underneath. They want to think of my feet in poofy slippers, and a long cigarette dangling from my manicured fingers, a martini on the corner of my desk, books adorning every wall in the room on dark mahogany bookshelves. A hunky man named Scribby standing over my shoulder feeding me nicoise olives from a jar.

The truth is, unfortunately, much different. Baby asleep on my bed, I steal away minutes here and minutes there, pounding furiously when I can, lamenting and fuming and crumbling beneath the frustration when I can’t. Sometimes, when I can’t get to my writing, I wallow around, depressed, hair a mess, tears welling up in my eyes, with insanity lurching nearby. Not such a glamorous picture, believe me.

And then there is the procrastination. Most writers I know are familiar with this. Sitting down to write is a process. You can’t just plop into the chair, turn on the computer and start banging on the keys. You have to work your brain into the right creative universe first. This usually comes in the form of pacing the room, scrubbing the tiles in the bathroom with a toothbrush, obsessing over clogged pores for a half hour in a magnifying mirror in the bathroom, or . . . my most recent favorite: checking traffic on my website.

Yes, bimbopolitics.com has provided me with yet one more way to procrastinate. Oh, it’s marvelous. I can peruse charts and graphs and pies that show me how much traffic I get, what pages are most popular, which countries in the world the readers are situated in, and even . . . my favorite . . . which key words typed into search engines yield a link to my site.

These often make me hoot and holler. They’re a riot. They range from “tampon not in far enough” to “preteen peaches” to “old bimbos” and “hairy fannies”. And it sparked an idea. Not long ago I came across a book on Scribby’s shelf called FOUND by an author named d.r. strange. This author took found phrases in newspaper copy and formed poetry from them. They’re quite extraordinary. Dare I even say some of my own words might be in there somewhere, since they were taken from a publication in which I ran.

I was inspired to try my own hand at this. Except instead of using newspaper copy, I am using my key words, which in web lingo are called “search strings.” Ben, my handyman, gets a kick out of these search strings most of all. He calls them “Roadmaps to Jacuzzi.” Hope you enjoy.

SLICED PENIS AND CHEEZ WHIZ
by Jacuzzi

Lying about my age
Feeling flushed face
Paranoia and feeling stalked
Vibration kills brain cells.

Socialites and debutantes
Old Bimbos, Hairy fannies
Slang word for cupcake
Sliced Penis, Cheez Whiz.

Judy Bloom biography
Points for low-fat haagan daaz
Embarrassed schoolboy, Stubborn jock itch
Tampon not far in enough.

Shanee Edwards, Richard Britell,
Snoring and spouse
Parenting quiz score yourself
Spank kid photo.

Cat tampon ad, Soy rosacia
Cute tomboy picture
Hairy little girls, Preteen peaches
Daddies little girl video.

Vibrators in public, Panne Doodle
Pink tampon wrapper,
Starbucks and demographics, Sexy bimbo drawings,
Sliced penis, Cheez Whiz.