I'm Guessing He's A Republican

If creepy anamatronic hillbillies leave you a little unsettled, I would skip this video.



When I was 13, Uncle Klunk raped me.

He used the banana.

(Also, they serve pizza. Apparently.)

No Water For Me, Thanks

Not having living during the era in which this was marketed, I naturally have questions. I have several questions.

1. Is this a joke?
2. How much does she pay for the storage locker where she keeps her intestines?
3. How was childbearing negotiated during this age? For that matter, how was conception negotiated?
4. Is the brand named "Erect Form" because, when the corset is off, the wearer topples over like a poorly designed PlayDoh sculpture?
5. No, really. Is this a joke?

I also must point out that this contraption was marketed as 'comfortable'. I have to agree on this, it does look comfortable. Then again, I sleep with bamboo shoots under my fingernails and knitting needles poked through my eyelids. Ahhhhh. So comfy. It feels just like snuggling with gramma.

Oh, My Aching Tiddies

Hey ladies!

Does your seatbelt dig in to your shoulders, neck or chest? Are you plagued with safety belt irritation at the site of contact? Have you ever wanted to get motorboated by a stuffed animal?



This adorable little bear will lie spread-eagled over your chest as you drive your hybrid car while wearing khakis and inoffensive pastels. The soft velour fabric feels almost sensuous against your skin. Or at least it would feel sensuous, if you hadn't given up orgasms for financial security back on your wedding day in '96.

The TiddyBear also doubles as a modesty device for today's Mormon mom-on-the-go. Is a little extra cleavage proving to be a point of contention with your husband's other 6 wives? Cover up your scandalous melon-crack with a plush chastity device.

But wait! It's not just for the ladies! Men can also use the TiddyBear! Sure, wearing a glorified Beanie Baby across your bitch tits takes a toll on your manhood, but you probably handed over the keys to your balls years ago, anyways.

And bonus- it's yellow! The colour of sunshine!

And urine.

A Little Tense

For Christ's sake, fella.... It's just coffee.

If you're gonna hit her, hit her for giving your boss a rusty trombone at the office Christmas party. Jesus.

Glamorous Wedding FAIL

I love the kid on the left. He's so fucking over this shit.

This image inspires so many questions. Which one is the groom? Is it post-syphyllitic Henry VIII in the upper left hand corner? Or perhaps the toothsome Larry Flynt impersonator in the tux next to the bride?

At least we don't have to play this guessing game to find the bridesmaids. The lovely, virginal handmaids kneeling on either side of the blushing bride are clearly taking their duties very seriously.

What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on the wall during the first consultation with the wedding planner: "Ok, for your wedding, I see..... plague-era London! Hooded tunics, codpieces, doublets and calf boots as far as the eye can see! And hats? Oh, heavens, yes! Above all, hats!"

Even the people dressed normally have gotten it all wrong. Over on the right, Uncle Bruce's jacket sleeves are trying to crawl out of frame.

Tip: If you're going to have a theme wedding, make it something like "We'd really prefer monetary gifts" or "Everyone settles... eventually".

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Faded Beauty, Faded Dreams

It ain't easy being a dime-dancer. Fellas coppin' a feel wherever they please, stinkin' of whiskey and trouble. When I left the farm, Mama told me about the city, she told me "Bootise, you ain't never gonna make it in that big town!" But I had myself a dream. I's gonna be the star of the stage. They's was all gonna come from miles around, just to hear me sing and watch my twinklin' toes dance all over that stage.

But Mama was right. I shouldda listened to her, and stay put at the farm. Ain't no one in this town wants to hire a chubby farm girl. They all tells me "You're too damn fat!" and they're right.

So now, I keep my figure down. I work at the Swingin' Pigeon, givin' it away for a measly dime. I still get to dance, and I really shouldna be complainin'. But I just gets hungry. I gets so hungry.

I'm Pretty Sure This Is Covered Under The Geneva Convention

The slider revolutionary.





via Dlisted

Golly! A Weenie Roast!

This is a post-WWII short film in which a creepy man's disembodied voice instructs teenagers on how to be popular.
Highlights:

• Homoeroticism
• Nutrition deficiency resulting in confusion surrounding scarves vs. mittens
• Young girls answering the phone like 80-year old women
• Sluts with pointy breasts
• Phallic imagery
• Teen Town (?!?)
• Affirmation of established gender roles
• Financial instability
• Blanco-centric social values

Enjoy, my darling bitches!

Note: This is (I'm In Parentheses)'s first-ever video edit. Why didn't anyone tell me it was so difficult? I hate you all.

NAW!! Just kidding, I love you all! Especially you.

Unsettling As It Gets

I'll just give you the gist of this one:

1. Husband locks wife out of the bedroom due to her smelly snatch.

2. Divorce papers are drawn up.

3. Don't let this happen to you. Douche with Lysol.

4. Smell gone.

5. Happily ever after.

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