I have a problem with Google.
I have to know things. I can’t control myself. If I hear about something I don’t understand, even if it freaks me out — actually, especially if it freaks me out — I have to go look it up. This leads to knowing stuff I wish desperately I could un-know, like that it’s not only possible to cut a penis in half lengthwise and have it function, but people do this for fun.
(How did I find this out? DO NOT ASK. It began as valid research, and it got OUT OF HAND. Googling snowballs, like a BLACK HOLE OF INVESTIGATION.)
This morning, I saw a blurb for Human Centipede, the movie that Donna is always raving about. The premise grossed me out so much I had to go and look up the details, and NOW I CAN’T EAT MY LUNCH.
I WANTED my lunch. My lunch is DELICIOUS. But someone made a movie about joining people together mouth-to-anus, and I had to find out how that would work, and now my lunch is FOREVER FUCKING RUINED.
Fuck you too, Google.
I used to think I had to KNOW STUFF because my imagination was worse than reality — kind of the way I had to sit through all of The Hills Have Eyes and the new Unborn, because whatever happened couldn’t be worse than what my mind would decide could have happened — but this is no longer accurate. I regularly find out things that are considerably worse than anything I could ever have dreamed up, and STILL, I GOOGLE.
Hey, I might think — as you do — I wonder if Orangutans ever rape human women? COME FIND OUT, Google croons in my ear. I KNOW. AND I’LL SHARE, IF YOU ASK NICELY. And now I live with the knowledge that not only has this happened, but the husbands of the victims aren’t generally that bothered, since it’s not like it was a person or anything.
AND NOW YOU KNOW TOO. SEE! SEE HOW IT FEELS?
I know about cysts with teeth, and that woman who had her face pulled off by her chimp, and far, far too much about serial killers and ridiculous scientific theories about how the world might end… I’ll wake myself up in the middle of the night to Google something I’ve been dreaming about, and I can’t make it through a 22-minute sitcom without the help of imdb.
I NEED HELP, YOU GUYS.
SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP.
In other news: I am the biggest character profile nerd ever, and it’s AWESOME. I can’t wait to start playing with these little people. Introduce them, hang out with them, MESS WITH THEIR LITTLE MINDS. So fun! So, so fun. I’m in a writerly happy place this week, and I like it there. I wanna BUILD A NEST so I can stay forever, wrapped up in the snuggly warmth of fantastic things I haven’t screwed up yet. Mmm, possibility. So much sweeter than actual prose.