It’s the Friday the 13th miracle no one was asking for! Two blog posts in one day!
See this dress? It’s awesome, but it’s made out of something totally gross.
Find out what it’s made of after the jump.
…One Slutty Pumpkin!
…Seven Weird-Ass Costumes, a Baby Doll Limb Coat Rack, Frankenstein-esque Homemade Sex Doll, Nine Slasher Cupcakes, a Baby Doll Centipede, Creepy Easter Bunny, and Human Body Part Candy Sushi!
…Seven Weird-Ass Costumes! A Baby Doll Limb Coat Rack, Frankenstein-esque Homemade Sex Doll, Nine Slasher Cupcakes, a Baby Doll Centipede, Creepy Easter Bunny and Human Body Part Candy Sushi!
Great boobs think alike.
…a Baby Doll Limb Coat Rack! A Frankenstein-esque Homemade Sex Doll, Nine Slasher Cupcakes, a Baby Doll Centipede, Creepy Easter Bunny, and Human Body Part Candy Sushi.
The only way this could be improved is if you could automate the hands so they grab you when you hang your coat.
…a Frankenstein-esque Homemade Sex Doll! Nine Slasher Cupcakes, a Baby Doll Centipede, Creepy Easter Bunny, and Human Body Part Candy Sushi.
May meets “To Catch a Predator”, in the worst way possible.
…Nine Slasher Cupcakes! A Baby Doll Centipede, Creepy Easter Bunny, and Human Body Part Candy Sushi.
Finally, a reason to justify cannibalism.
…a Baby Doll Centipede! A Creepy Easter Bunny and Human Body Part Candy Sushi.
This one’s my favorite, but there are other versions, too:
…a Creepy Easter Bunny! And Human Body Part Candy Sushi.
He’s here to claim your eggs.
A while ago, I made a list of a few bizarre search terms people used to find my blog. After seeing more weird words pop up over the last month or so, I selected my favorite search terms and categorized them by Misspellings, Monica Lewinsky, Questions, Creepy Fetishes, Whatever This Is, and Miscellaneous.
Since oh-so-many people seem to find my blog via classy variations on the search term “boobs”, I decided to pay homage to this one little word that has brought me so much porn-seeking traffic…
It’s a tale as old as time, true as it can be. Or rather, a question as old as the birth of McDonald’s. Who’s hotter, Grimace or the Hamburglar?
It’s my birthday. I’m 21 years old today. Therefore, I expect 21 birthday cakes on my doorstep by the end of the day, or else I’ll burn down Australia. You’ve been warned.
Here are some examples of acceptable cakes:
Let’s be honest. Supernatural has jumped the shark.
Once upon a time, it was an awesome show. Even now, it has a few worthwhile episodes mixed in with the turdy ones. Like, a few actual Godiva truffles mixed in with those Godiva “gems” you can buy at CVS that are pretty sucky and disappointing. But do you really want to suffer through all that crappy chocolate, those assaults on your taste buds, before getting to the deliciousness? Does anyone relate to this reference, or even understand it? No? Well, that’s okay. My point is this: no. No, you do not want to suffer through crap just for the chance you’ll see something good.
I love cults. Okay, maybe love is a bit of a strong word. Let’s call it morbid fascination. I have a morbid fascination with cults. Since I’m such a nut about cults, I’ve spent way too much time researching them, so I can assure you I know my stuff.
Cults are a fascinating part of history but aren’t covered in the classroom, so today I’m going to educate you about a personal favorite cult leader of mine, Adolfo de Jesus Constanzo.
Adolfo de Jesus Constanzo was a cult leader and serial killer who killed many people around the Texas-Mexico border, including a Texas college student, so as a Texas college student, naturally I feel he is the most (ir)relevant serial killer for you to learn about.
There’s an epidemic sweeping the nation. Hoarders.
Okay, so hoarders have been around for forever, but it’s only in the last couple years that they’ve invaded the public eye, bringing their bags of garbage and dead cats with them. We have all different sorts of hoarding shows that are actually all the same: “Help! I’m a Hoarder”, “Hoarding: Buried Alive”, “I’m Pregnant and a Hoarder”, and of course, “Hoarders”.
Basically, all the shows go like this:
PART 1: Mr. or Mrs. Stinkytrashhouse is a Hoarder. They’re about to go to jail and/or their house is about to be repossessed ’cause they stuffed their house with junk like a Thanksgiving turkey.
PART 2: Angsty Child or Friend of Stinkytrashhouse enters and talks about the anger and distress they feel because Stinkytrashhouse won’t get rid of anything. They say they’ve tried to help Stinkytrashhouse again and again, but Stinkytrashhouse is blind to the dirty chaos consuming their home. Stinkytrashhouse prefers to bathe in garbage juice, especially since their plumbing got cut off years ago.
PART 3: A Professional Organizer and/or Therapist comes and tries to help Stinkytrashhouse sort through their humongous piles of rotting possessions. Stinkytrashhouse wants to keep everything, even that pile of cat poop, because that cat poop was really important to them at one point in their life. That cat poop saved their life or cared for them when they were young or something.
In the middle of a Books-A-Million, I crouched down and started snapping photos of an allegedly straight man’s magazine I found. Forgive me, I don’t remember what the man-azine was called, but you wouldn’t either if you saw this:
Here we have a nice young man who appears to be modeling underwear while working out and simultaneously stuffing Pizza Hut condiment packets into his Hugo Boss briefs. Seems sensible enough.
I feel like there’s some sort of innuendo here, but I just can’t quite put my chopstick on it…
Some things in life are really f*cking creepy, but no one seems to notice. They’re everyday, innocent-looking little things. Why aren’t more people creeped out by these? Because of the government, of course. I’m going to tell you what they won’t about the following creepy objects:
Bobble Heads: You get a bobble head for your desk at work. At first, your bobble head seems like your friend, nodding “yes” to everything you say, providing a listening ear. But as your relationship grows, you realize it nods “yes” to things like, “I forgot to turn in my expense report– I’m such an idiot!”, “Do I look fat today?”, and “Have you been talking shit about me?”. As it turns out, the bobble head you thought was your BFFF is actually your best frenemy and a social climber. The bobble head relocates to someone else’s desk and nods “yes” while that person points at you and snickers. What a bastard of a bobble head. Just when you get over feeling hurt, you work late one night and see that the bobble head is on your desk, watching you, constantly nodding. Every time you look away and look back at it, it’s inched closer to you. Finally, it bobs one last “yes” and attacks you with a chainsaw. (more…)
Last Saturday was my brother’s high school homecoming, which made me a bit nostalgic, so I helped pick out things to put on his date’s mum… but I didn’t know what I had contributed to. The finished product was terrifyingly huge. Cute, but huge.
My brother’s date’s mum looked like it weighed more than she did. Since they’re juniors, it was a triple mum, because apparently nowadays it’s improper to give a single mum to anyone other than a freshman. That means every year, your mum cost goes up! Yay!
On top of lights, whistles, glitter, and teddy bears, this year, the hot new mum accessory was speakers. I’m being completely serious. There was a mum with an auxiliary input so people could plug in their iPods. What’s the point of that? You can’t play music during class, and I imagine wearing speakers around on your boobs would get pretty heavy. (more…)
Leprosy was a serious disease in Biblical times. Leopards are animals so fast they can hunt down your children from three continents away. Jeopardy is a crappy old game show so boring it can kill you in your sleep.
But today, I’m going to talk about something very serious: OWN.
OWN is the new Oprah Winfrey Network. You may remember my Friday the 13th post about the end of Oprah’s television series, a cause for celebration and fear.
This is worse. Oprah went from screen-hogging whore to network executive. I cannot stress enough how terrifying this is.
OWN will likely cause seven times Al Gore’s predicted effects of global warming. OWN will unleash modern Biblical plagues.* OWN will kill more children than leopards, bore you more than Jeopardy, and be even more of an epidemic than leprosy.
You’ve been warned.
*Modern Biblical plagues include abdominal swelling, nausea, fatigue, weight loss, weight gain, diarrhea, dizziness, memory loss, menstrual bleeding, anal seepage, and headaches. Contact your doctor if your depression worsens or you experience thoughts of suicide.
This Thing (see: above)—Made in the 80s, of course. But even with the outlandish things that decade provided, this is too creepy even for Madonna or 80s Ozzie. Cereal on ice cream tastes good and all, but freeze-dried “ice cream” chunks in cereal? Served by a poor soul who got abducted by aliens, probed and prodded, and sent back to Earth in an experimental ice cream cone body wearing a suit with Cheerio eyes? And he has a chip on his/its shoulder from having his human body stolen by aliens? So he’s on a killing spree by poisoning people with his cereal? No thanks. Why would he decide to poison people with his ice cream brethren, anyway? Then again, this mascot was brought to us by Kellogg, the folks who inexplicably gave us a chicken mascot for corn flakes. Also, the cereal’s name is “Kream Krunch”, which doesn’t bring to mind any sexual innuendos whatsoever.