|
|
 As if I didn't already need a reason to stare at huge tits in tight t-shirts, some ladies apparently get off on giving an alternate purpose for doing so. PopCrunch has a gallery of numerous breast messages, all involving women who are unable to recognize their proper t-shirt size. Not that I'm complaining, though. I'll take a free hug, but I warn you, I'm a slow reader.
Via.
 See, this guy knows how to do it. I've invited hasidic jews and Jack Sparrow to my parties, but it ain't ever worked out. The guy from the Office knows how to have a party, though. Note that, in the credits, he's "Black Hugh Hefner", a title formerly held by nobody.
 After yesterday's penis car experience, here's an opportunity to drive the least penislike cars ever: The Smoking Jacket lists Five Crappy Cars Everyone Should Drive Before They Die, a title that can be shortened for people of my vintage to "What I Drove In High School". I rather like the Lagonda, not that I'll ever be able to afford one. I don't know about including the Hummer on the list: the H2 is essentially a generic pickup with ricer aftermarket crap stuck on it; the rest of the cars are so horribly unique and awesome, it's an insult to the DeLorean to be in the same category as the H2.
Elvis Costello, the classiest guy to ever be cast in Stephen Colbert's Christmas Special, thinks his label is fucking you over, so you should go torrent it instead. Costello has his balls in the right place, seeing he's often before risked sanction for speaking his mind, and hopefully this doesn't bite him in the ass. He's doing it for a good cause, though: rather than buying his own piece of shit super-sized collector's edition, go and get Louis Armstrong's Ambassador of Jazz for $150. That's 10 CDs of Armstrong, well worth the money, I suppose, but I may end up downloading those too. I don't have much shame.
There's a slight discrepancy in Jalopink's survey of the ten most phallic cars ever. There's a few that are obviously penis replacements - powerful, expensive cars that make it matter less to boring women whether or not you've got anything worthwhile in your pants. The rest, however, are cars that geniunely look like penises. They've got long hoods, little trunk, and a small rounded cab that makes it look like cock-and-balls dildo riding on its back. Some even have exposed exhaust pipes like veins all down the sides. Now that I know what they're supposed to like, I want a Corvette more than ever. I'm not sure what my blocky International Scout is telling people about my genitals.
 In case you missed it, the urban legend that a vodka-soaked tampon can make a woman drunk is so totally, totally wrong. I could have told everybody that, with this quick example: let's see, men, what other mucous membranes can we try? How about, first you snort some vodka, and then we drip some in your eyes. Let's see if you stop screaming long enough for us to decide if you're drunk yet. Morons.
 Apparently, somebody decided that, as long as the areola was covered, that was enough boob blockage. That person was made the god of mankind everywhere. Coed magazine, fan of everything boob-but-not-quite-porn, spent weeks compiling over a hundred pictures of women with boob stickers covering their nipples. Enjoy.
 My first reaction to this comic is, pfsh, that's happened to me like a zillion times. But, then I thought about it: no, never with a food cart; no, I think the toilet was pointed the wrong direction; no, I don't think I've ever accidentally fucked anyplace where they had those glass guard-rails. No, they're right: I better wear condoms instead. This is from some German ad agency, info here.
Via.
Having a career to fall back on is an awesome way to look at life, and Ms Kellie Gillispie has got a political career to fall back on if her high-profile sports career, as a member of the fucking Lingerie Football League doesn't pan out. She has even made a statement about how this won't interfere with her political career, and it's proof of how fucked up the U.S. is that she even needs to make a point of addressing the fact. She plays football in a bikini with bows on it. Is that seriously a big impact? And don't do that 'think of the children' crap, they see plenty of swimsuits throughout their life, and that doesn't include ones in which women play the same sports as men. Having a politician with a good attitude towards these "morality" issues is a good deal; hopefully a progressive mind continues through the rest of her politics.
More from this gallery >>
 I'm not sure if this is terrifying, or if I should give the inventor a high-five. The "Little Rooster" Alarm Clock uses the most modern of technologies to rouse the females around us to wakefulness by slowly increasing the vibrating portion, which is installed upon her vulva before going to sleep. So, ladies be sleeping, and when the preapproved time arrives, the little plastic thing begins to vibrate...then some more...then some more...until she's either too annoyed to continue, or an orgasm or two have occured. They don't say just how customizeable it is, but all I gotta say is if you can sync it to Google Calendar, this will be the biggest selling vibrator ever.
Via.
Statisticians, is there nothing your grubby hands can make more empirical? According to SCIENCE! the perfect breast has been determined, based on Page 3 Girls' most-favorited boobs. I mean, come on, BOOBS, but the most interesting feature is that the nipple is supposed to point up by 45 degrees. I'm not completely sure I've ever seen an upturned nipple, and that may just be testament to the amount of substandard breasts I've encountered. No, that's not possible: there's not such thing as encountering a substandard boob. Every boob is a significant improvement over no boob. Unless you're really doing it wrong. But, even then...boobs. However, this is all about empiricism, so the only way I can truly know is to experience as many breasts as possible. I'll get right on that; I already have my clipboard ready.
So, let's say you're a high school teacher, but you want to make a little money on the side by doing porn. Do you conceal your real-life vocation, or do you use school computers and play up your teacherhood to sell your pornographic websites? It should be no surprise that #2 got a Stockton, Calif. teacher caught for doing just that...with a little help from a police officer. No, the other way around: she got website help from the police officer, she hasn't been arrested for anything. She is suspended from her job, of course, but when you market your websites talking about how your real-world teen male students think you're sexy, you're just asking to be taken down a notch.
 That has to be the yellowest bathtub I've ever seen. It really doesn't go with the brown tile, and - oh, yeah - hot babe with huge breasts taking a bath. How could I have fucking missed that?
More from this gallery >>
 TresSugar wants you to take a quiz that asks, " Vampire Myths: Real or Fake?. Answer: fake, because vampires aren't fucking real. Just because Montague Summers put out a book full of greek and latin quotations about vampires doesn't mean there's any scholarly truth to the stories. Scared heathens made up the stories based on whatever they were thinking at the time. Maybe somebody DID put an apple in the vampire's mouth to kill them - oral traditions are notoriously difficult to archive, so what you get are the rare stories that made it into bound matter or as a meme or methodology for a greater, broader form of storytelling. That's right, I got all literary on your ass, TresSugar. You deserve it, for making a 6-question test take 13 clicks.
 Man, when I was a kid I totally hoped that grownups got to wear Underoos, too. I was sadly let down. Fortunately, here's the next best thing to wearing them: looking at some cute anime woman wearing nothing but comic book undies. The sale page is all in Japanese, but you can see more here.
Via.
Nick Offerman, who plays Ron Swanson on Parks and Rec, actually turns trees into useful things, like these kickass moustache brushes. For $75 fucking dollars, I hope it actually makes my goatee thicker and more ronswansony.
You know, I figured that there must be something comparable for less than $200, but then I started looking and found that nobody makes anywhere near as awesome this clock. This looks just like every clock in school, and I totally want one. They keys are the curved glass front, and that cassic plain font. You just can't find that anymore.
Via.
The bad-ass side of me wants to yell to the world, "where can I buy this, I would wear the shit out of it!" But, you see, I'm no longer 14 years old, and grown-up me realizes that this will not, in fact, attract the ladies. That doesn't stop my adolescent-lizard-brain from wanting one of these so very, very bad. Come on, it looks like Donald Duck just had the epiphany that he's standing on the train tracks and the 8:15 is barreling down on him. If I can't wear that sentiment on my chest, I don't know what's going on in this world.
Via.
What the fuck happened to you, Rammstein? No, don't get the wrong idea: whatever happened is totally fucking awesome, but this is totally not what I expected from a Rammstein video. I present to you: Mein Land. Don't worry, there are naked tits after the 4-minute point.
Via.
This guy can kick the ass of The Most Interesting Man In The World, mostly because if you have the pedigrees claimed by this business card, you think Dos Equis tastes like horse piss; whiskey is your drink of choice. I most approve of him being a specialist in "Orgies" - I tried to get signed up for that major in college, but the waiting list was too long.
Via.
 After Polaroid discontinued 600 film, lots of dudes like me curled up in a corner and cried for a while. You didn't take pictures with a Polaroid for photographic reasons; you took it for the instantaneous satisfaction of having a hard-copy photo in your hands, no matter if the colors were wrong or things were poorly framed. Don't even get me started on the fun of self porn-photography with Polaroids: the fun is passing around the pictures right then and there, without having to be annoyed with how long the pictures take to pull up on the computer.
Polaroid has come back with new technology in what appears to be an old box. Shaped like several different Polaroid models from the 80s to today, this new camera is wholly digital, but with a new inkless-printing system that gets you an 'instant' 'photo' right out of the camera. Kick ass, Polaroid...kick ass. Too bad it costs an arm and a leg; the awesomeness of Polaroid was that you could pick up a $1 thriftshop camera and $10 worth of 600 at White Drug and have an awesome time. I'm sure price will come down someday; gotta fleece the early-adopters, of course.
Via.
Stand at attention and salute, dammit! Make sure you know the difference - today is Veteran's Day, a day for everybody who's ever worn the uniform, so show some fucking respect. If it weren't for the US Military, we'd all have been Canadians since 1812. Aten-HUT!
Via.
 And this, right here, is why I'd fuck the hell out of Mr. Joel McHale. Of course, the punchline is at the end, and deserves patience. Enjoy. Apparently this has something to do with People's Sexiest Man Alive, because they want to reinforce that sexy is funny. Duh, People...duh.
|
|
|
|
