Forget the Seven Year Itch, This is the 17year Fuck

I probably shouldn’t blog after finishing a bottle of Smoking Loon, but if I don’t do it now, I’ll forget to do it tomorrow. Or I’ll put it off. Or something like that. Damn, I know I had a reason for this blog post…

Oh, yes! Now I remember. I just looked at my blog stats and was disturbed by what I saw. Normally I would be disturbed by the fact that only a handful of people visit my blog, but not tonight. No, what troubled me this time was going through my stats and finding out that someone had found my blog yesterday using the term “17year fuck.”

Now, there was a time in my life when that would have made some kind of sense. During that time, I probably would have had a post or three about high school girls or the Olsen twins. But now that I’m 35 and am thinking seriously about a family, 17-year-olds are not on my mind. But, they are obviously on someone’s mind, and that someone ended up visiting Stale Bread during their search.

That freaks me out, but also gives me some kind of sick pleasure. I imagine some slimy 50-year-old, dick in hand, typing “17year fuck” into Google. Then, what does he get? He gets my ramblings about Michael Vick, The Golden Girls, Jamie Foxx, Whoopi Goldberg and Molly Hatchet. Talk about a boner killer.