Real things that I think throughout my day that should never be said to anyone ever, proving once again why I should never be let out of my own home.
What would the world be like if haircuts were like tattoos and whatever you get first would stay that way forever?
Instead of getting people’s names tattooed on your bicep, you’d have a permanent gericurl. Or instead of tramp stamps, you have a rat-tail. There would be as many shitty faded Taz tattoos and poorly designed tribals as regrettably uneven bowl cuts and rebellious pixie cuts.
Are there Asian Little People?
Wow. Is it racist to think that or some other form of terrible inadvertent prejudice?
Okay, well, Google says there are Asian Little People, but results on whether I still have a soul are inconclusive.
Old people get really sad bonus gifts. The Scooter Store gives away large print playing cards, Craftmatic gives away color TV’s, Life Alert gives away sadness and bedsores.
They should arm old people instead.
“With every Rascal comes a Gatling Gun!”
“Life Alert, now with more switchblades. Help, I’ve fallen and I’m taking your ass out!”
Porn and Puppets are best viewed in poor definition–neither are flattered by the HD revolution.
Wait. Is there Sesame Street porn? More to the point, who are the type of people who would want to watch it? Besides me, of course. Felt Fetishists? Muppet Meat-Beaters? Puppet Penis Poppers?
Google says yes, there is Sesame Street porn. And I will never be the same again.
All addictions should be as useful as extreme couponing.
Like if heroin did your dishes. And meth granted wishes.
Bristol Palin is being a huge twat. She’s going around saying her virginity was stolen from her, but denying that Levi stole it, just that she made a shitty decision.
By saying that, she’s saying she stole her own virginity and that’s goddamn insurance fraud.
Confetti makes all situations better, doesn’t it?
Nana died. POOF, CONFETTI MOTHERFUCKER.
I’ve got the herp. POOF, CONFETTI MOTHERFUCKER.
I watched your dad fuck a donkey. POOF, CONFETTI MOTHERFUCKER.
So, if you remove gender distinction in a preschool, it’s eliminating nurture from the gender debate. But what if you replaced all gender words with absurd animals instead?
Could you nurture children into being geckos, for instance? Or teach children to literally be giraffes?
If it worked, could that be the end of the endangered species list?
Clearly, I am one of the worst people alive.
What’s the worst way you’ve started a conversation, or had a conversation started with you?
—Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Retailserf: “Worst sex advice I’ve ever seen: During the Swine Flu epidemic a couple of winters ago, Cosmo advised readers to be safe by having sex in reverse-cowgirl position, as the lack of mouth-to-mouth contact would (they felt) reduce the risk of catching Swine Flu from a partner. There was an illustration, as well. So how awkward is that? “You be all up in my vag, but you can’t kiss me. Swine Flu, you know. I’m just going to back up on you, and we’ll leave it at that.”