Let's just begin this all with the acknowledgment -- and do feel free to nod along with me, kittens -- that it's going to take some major revolution on the isle of internets for our collective search vernacular to go from "Google it" and "Google that" and plain old "Googled" to...well, anything else.
And no matter how hard the marketing machine is cranking away, making silkscreened t-shirts of whomever is the El Che of this particular upheaval, handing out artillery to the common folk and stocking away canned goods in the secret shelter any remaining desktop computer towers, Bing is just not going to overturn the Big G.
I don't care how many times Rachael Zoe slurs out, "Oh my gawwwd, weird plastic surgery hairline husband, let's Bing Chinese restaurants and order food I won't even allow myself to smell and can't see over this dead polar bear vest I'm wearrrrrinng" or some unrecognizable booby grrrl from "The Hills" says, "BING IT!" and slaps a high-five to some other unrecognizable booby grrrl with a DUI. It's not going to happen.
Here's how I know this.
People find Sassafrass in kinds of crazy ways. Yes, speaking with my father in the dentist office waiting room is, in fact, one of them. So are searches. I've been Googled (see? there we go, all comfy and whatnot) through a search for "Britney's vajayjay" (do note that her vajayjay does not live on this site but it does visit occasionally, especially if I promise to serve up some of my famous Gin and Redbull Muffins).
I've been Yahooed (see? not so much) through a search of "big lady fucking tv", which I don't entirely get but am receptive to given a few of those Gin and Redbull Muffins.
There have been all kinds of crazy searches that have led other single moms, shameless shoe whores, porn afficianados and many a wackadoodle to my humble blog. I don't really care how people fall into this trap, so long as they stay and say my kid is hilarious, my shoes are cute and then click around a lot so I can buy a VENTI latte this month with my ad earnings instead of a regular old grande. All are welcome.
Today, however, my search engine got revved a little differently for the first time. That's right. I got Binged.
And here is the Bing brilliance that brought some lovely individual over to Sassafrass.
show me teense haven sex
Go ahead, read it again. It's good stuff but it might take some time to digest. (This is real, y'all. Here's the proof.)
At first, I assumed my Mensa-ness/sordid past of working too many Word Jumble puzzles was kicking in as my brain automatically computed "show me TEENS HAVING sex."
And truly, that is a valid thing to search for. Especially if you are a teen. Most definitely if you are a teen who is NOT having sex. One-thousand percent if you are teen who is trying to convince his stubborn girlfriend what a good idea it would be give that whole thing a try, even for just like ten seconds.
But at second glance, I wondered if this is what this (gratefully, for all of us) anonymous searcher was truly seeking.
Could it have been a quest for TEENSE, as in just a tiny itty bit tip of havin' sex?
Or was it possibly the journey toward something more divine, perhaps the golden chalice of HAVEN sex?
Is TEENSE someone on "Real World" I am too old to know about? Someone friend of Brody's hiding in Speidi's flesh beard or size-H cleavage?
Is there any way some kid named Teense is God-like in his or her fornicatory stylings?
And for the love of tech savvy, who let someone log on to a computer who feels the need to command an infantile search engine to show them something? Isn't that implied? Or must Bing be dominated even by the foot soldiers who apparently cannot even figure out how to spell the name of the underage person they are preying upon in their spelling challenged hunt for a Miley Cyrus sex tape?
Finally, could he or she have believed that Bing was somehow part of the search deal? Like, maybe in a "I'm gonna Bing the crap out of some teense one of these days" or "I can't wait to get my license so I can drive outta this hell hole of a town and find some real havenly teense to Bing"?
Whatever it is, I don't get it. I only know that it let that sucker-fool to a blog filled with shoes and boob talk that I am pretty sure is at the opposite end of the search spectrum he or she hoped to find.
Regardless, welcome, bad spelling Binger! Please, feel free to read about my divorce and dinosaurs and other shit that will hopefully bore you out of ever turning on your computer ever ever ever again.
But if you do, take a little break from pondering how the RAM your computer science teacher keeps talking about fits into this whole complicated puzzle to consider for a moment what -- or who! -- you might have found had you only chosen to Google that gem of a phrase.