Five Things I Will Never Understand About Halloween

1. Halloween costumes that feature the photo slash name of the entity it represents. A Ninja Turtle does not wear a green bib that says "Ninja Turtle"

2. How my body can metabolize 4 kilos of halloween candy.

3. The mystical quality/ magic ingredient that makes Cheezies so irresistable

4. How ANYONE can look me in the eye and tell me they don't love the video for "Thriller"

5. Why this glorious day comes no more than once a year

Consider It Reduced

But..... what does it mean??

Where do I even begin with this? Have the reductions already been taken? Are the reductions pending 'taken'?

I feel it necessary to point out that this sign graces the window of a plus-size store, which leads to more questions. Do the purported reductions involve the clothing itself? Or the size of the salespeople?

Some mysteries were never meant to be solved.

I Hope Someone Throws Up In His Face On Halloween

And in our newest "White Trash Fabulous" line, here is Tucker modelling the rib-tickling Suicide Bomber costume. Paired with the Saudi headdress, the plush dynamite and detonator will be sure to "blow away" the neighbors this trick-or-treating season.

Next up, how you can stitch together a wedding dress in minutes using disassembled maxi pads! It's a bargain hunters dream, period!

Marcel Marceau Is Silently Expressing His Concern.

Life, she has not been good to me.

Zees is why, when I wake from ze four-day slumber brought to me by ze angels of Absinthe, j'aime buver ze Chocolat Poulain. Because, as we say in Paree, "Better chocolat zan a pistol to ze face"

Source

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.

Source

A Few of My Favorite Words

Precision, emprisioned, nihilist, masticate, emancipate, ecumenical, she-male, rescind, pontificate, occipital, crusade, rhetoric, correlation, tongue, autumn, olfactory, exemplify, empirical, imperial, fever, scrumptious, modifier, tablet, sexualized, maple, immigrant, summation, indecent, Chaucer, forensic, patriarchal, auger, esoteric, sublime, transcendant, allele, fortitude, supplement, linament, emancipate, matrix, reconcile, hustler, memoir, villify, sanctity, annihilate, swell, dextrous, prostrate, ambivalent, ho-bag.

Also, I HATE when people randomly use the word disestablishmentarianism. What are you trying to prove?

But my favorite word of all time?

douchebaggery: [dus-bAEgEri] the state of being, or the activity of acting like a douche. Fr. douche, as v., to cleanse one's vagina by means of a nozzled apparatus. As n., an object consisting of a nozzle attached to a bag, containing fluids which cleanse the inner and outer vaginal area.

Source

I refuse to bestow a title unto this post.

Sarah Palin? Really?

An Open Letter to Scientology

Fuck you.
That's right. I'm talking to you, Scientology.
Fuck you.

Who do you think you are?
First, let's talk about pedigree. A science-fiction writer? Really?
Because, the last time I checked, sci-fi authors were right next to infomercial hosts in the Least Credible Human Beings department. Following a religion that was started by a sci-fi writer is as ridiculous as following some treasure hunter who found a few golden plates in..... wait..... Nevermind.

And you really know your faith will hold up to the test of time if the only way you can get people into your church is to trick them. And don't underestimate the power of B- and C-list celebrities as spokespeople. Nothing says "Respite Of The Soul" like closeted middle-aged caucasian men.

Next, we'll move on to doctrine.
Or, at least we'll move on to doctrine in theory, because apparently you have no doctrine. Watching a Scientology conversion video is like trying to have an orgasm for 7 hours. Nothing is actually accomplished, and you get so frustrated you want to chainsaw someone's face off.

Also, who is this Xenu person? Because I could have sworn it was a fabrication of L. Ron Hubbard's imagination... You know, just some standard H.G Wells-ish bad guy. But I was wrong.... Xenu came here a long time ago and messed up our shit, and his grandchildren stayed here to make life difficult for people. Not like Concentration Camp-difficult, but "My family just doesn't GET me"-difficult.

As if this laundry list of foolishness wasn't enough, you also demand huge amounts of cash from your followers. There is absolutely no precedent in Western Civilization for asking parishoners to pony up mon....oh........wait....

I was wrong.

I guess you are a legitimate religion.

Please find enclosed your tax exemption forms.

Regards,
M. Wood

I am a swinging lamp of antique fashion.

My creative juices have dried up for the day. Please, someone, anyone, make me juicy again.

I think I need some structure.



How do you like your coffee?
The same way I like my men-- ground up and in the freezer.

Can you touch your nose with your tongue?
No, but I can touch YOUR nose with my tongue! And by nose, I mean genitals.

What's your favorite element?
The element of surprise.

What are some of your favourite things?
Reading in bed, bedding in red, camping, building campfires, baby yorkies, baby Yorkies.

What was the last book you read?
The last book I read for my own pleasure is "She's Come Undone", which I've actually read about a dozen times.

Name a movie you really hated.
Ugh.... 300. What a horrible movie. I do not understand why so many people like this movie.

What item couldn't you possibly live without?
My iPod. Well, I suppose I could live without it, but life would not be as sweet as it is now that I can listen to the entirety of the Motown Library whenever I want.

Describe the perfect day.
It would involve beer, a private screening of Silence of the Lambs, and possibly cake. And by possibly, I mean definetely.

What was the last movie you saw at the theater?
Lars and the Real Girl. Really, really good.

The last time you cried...?
I'm not a big crier..... I usually bottle up my emotions until they manifest in panic attacks.

Do you believe that the cup is half empty or half full?
It depends on who's wearing it.

What do you do for fun?
Hustle Japanese businessmen.

What 3 words would your best friend use to describe you?
Malignant. Yeasty. Rancid. But she's wrong. I'm actually pretty rad.

What is your favorite candy?
Blue Whales. The gummies, not the actual whales.

What did you do last night?
Translated Middle English and went to bed with Dubliners. The book, not the actual people.

He may need suds of another kind....

Yikes. This guy looks like he's staring at something he'd like to eat with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

Lonely, sexually neglected, devoid of magenta.

He needs a break. And what relieves a middle-aged red-blooded man better than.... a bubble bath!

Not just a bubble bath, but a bath with PURE foam, the kind of foam exclusive to Ivory. Banish from your mind the impotent froth of Dove. Discard any notion of the uninspiring lather of Pears. True satisfaction can only be found in foam as pure as the driven snow.

Something about that smile tells me he dropped the soap......

Potato Lover

I love Irish people. Especially this one:

Ah..... the delightful days of summer. Days of ice cream, suntanning, barbeques, sand castles and of course, extra smoking.
And what better way to take advantage of your newfound freedom than..... smoking the cigarette of extra smokes! What does this mean? Why, it means that each cigarette contains 10% more puff-potential than the leading national brand. Gone is the soul-wrenching butting out of the cigarette that just didn't last long enough. You'll butt out knowing you sucked every last nico-tastic puff.
But wait, you ask, don't extra smokes in the season of extra smoking just add up to a whole lot more smoking? Of course it does, but this is America. And doing something right means doing it to excess. We didn't drop the bomb on Hiroshima in order to smoke a reasonable amount, we did it so that we can smoke ourselves into oblivion, God Dammit!
So enjoy your summer. Get on your best wool coat and turtleneck, head to the beach, and smoke those mothers!!

Now With Extra Quality!

I always wondered what people did before television was invented....

That's A Pretty Big 'But'.......

Watch out sailor... She's not what she appears. Don't be fooled by the starched white collar or perfectly coiffed pageboy hair. Ignore the saint-like ethereal glow that seems to be emanating from her very soul. She's a lap-jockey, and when she goes slumming, a rubber is the farthest thing from her mind.
She's Frenchified, and she'll destroy you and everything you hold dear. She is the Communism of sex.

Really? Because if a guy did this to me, I would punch him in the dick.

Source

Wrong Wrong Wrong

Jesus Christ on a cross. What the hell did you have to smoke for this to be appetizing?

Let's examine each component of this specimen separately.

What I assume to be bread, (however this assumption may very well be as wrong as an ironing board in the kitchen) seems to have been given a greenish tint. I cannot comment as to whether this is the genesis of mould, a food additive extracted from crash victims found near Area 51, or if the tint was added to intensify the redness of the tomatoes slash 'spaghetti'.

I use this term loosely, because it does not resemble any spaghetti I have ever known. It could possibly be better described as earthworms wriggling in the afterbirth of a jack'o'lantern. Have you ever dropped a string of spaghetti in the sink, and then you see it days later, water logged and repulsively swollen? I take comfort in the fact that I don't have to smell it.

The tomatoes are fine. They will help clean out the inevitable clog of goo that will form in your colon after eating this abomination.

Mmmm.... Hunger-Induced Hallucinations

Libby's. For when you're so mother fucking hungry, you'll wear window sheers instead of expending the energy it takes to do laundry.
Addendum: Who picked out that wedding ring for her? It looks like a clearance item from Fifth Avenue Collection.

Pleasure Derived from Silicone

Lars and the Real Girl is a really really good movie. Go see it.

Highlights

• An anatomically correct supporting actress made from silicone


• Fantastic acting by Ryan Gosling


• That Canadian actress that played the leading role in Life With Billy


• Pink bowling balls


• A non-romantic comedy that contains both romance and comedy


• Did I mention there was a silicone love-doll?

Cookies for Souls

I'm really uncomfortable even looking at this old Karo Syrup ad.
This child is... somehow.... not right.
I'm not sure if it's the sculpted eyebrows, the cryptic gender of the child itself, or the association of nudity with cookies.

All I know is that I'm pretty sure it knows that I touch myself, and it likes the fact that I know that it knows.
Also, I dare you to find a nipple. Male or Female, it should have a nipple plainly visible based on what we can see of its torso. No nipple= probably not even human.

I appreciate the word usage in the recipe. Nowadays, if someone used the phrase "three-way cooky" in a sentence, everyone's head would turn to the haggard blonde at the end of the bar.

Seeing as though we're playing fast and loose with the spelling of words, I'm not sure what to make of the 'scrumpshus' exclamation at the top. It's either A.) supposed to be cute, as if 'it' spelled the word incorrectly like little 'its' tend to do, or B.) the ad was written during war time. All the nutrient-absent powdered egg and canned meat everyone was forced to eat tooks its toll on the ol' grammatical skills.

Speaking of nutrients, please note how corn syrup is described as nourishing. Because Karo is rich in dextrose, the sugar your body uses directly for energy. Uh, ya, I'd say it's rich in dextrose, considering it's ONE HUNDRED PERCENT dextrose! It's syrup! Although I'm sure this would have been a big selling feature at the time- everyone just needed that extra kick of energy to get them to the next uncertain and terrifying day.

That being said, where can I buy that nifty cookie jar?

My Blood Is Your Blood

During a search for vintage advertisements and magazine articles (a burning interest of mine), I came across this ad. It can only be described as a masterpiece of 50's style misogyny, served on an avocado-green melmac platter.Please indulge me by considering the following:

You poor son of a bitch.

How DO you manage every month? I'll bet during all that cramping and irritability, she doesn't even have the energy to make you your weekday dinner of a full beef roast with all the trimmings. Broads. They always complain the loudest.

Note how miserable this guy looks. Furrowed brow, excessive head-turning. He radiates the melancholy of a man whose whites aren't quite their whitest, and whose drawers weren't starched OR ironed. Lazy bitch.

One can just imagine the after-dinner conversation down at the Lodge:

"..... some new-fangled ailment called PMS. Why, just last week, Bob and Vera down the street separated. Now, you didn`t hear it from me, but word is that he had put up with one too many of her monthly 'temper tantrums'. Sure he`s been nailing every secretary this side of the Mason-Dixon line, but it`s no excuse for her to snap her dishtowel in anger and storm out of the room. These childish outbursts are exactly what us fellas DON`T need after 7 hours at the office. When we come home, we like to have our dinner hot, our children quiet, and our wives emotionally repressed. It`s the American way. Feelings are for communists.

Thank God she saw the ad for Femicin in Photoplay, no more of that moody business. Now she`s back to acting like the woman I married. Heh heh heh, without the cherry of course. Another bourboun, fellas?"