Category Everything is Terrible

“I think it’s ironic that, for once, dad’s butt PREVENTED the release of toxic gas.”

Oh, if only I could do both on command.

What happens when we’ve got a small window of time without any demands placed upon it?

Something terrible. Something terrible and awful and kind of awesome.

We call it BurpBing–seeing how the vocal command search on the Xbox360 responds to burping.

For the record, it doesn’t do a great job with regular vocal commands, either.

Some of these would make great t-shirts.

Thank you, Google Analytics. With your data crunching, I now know I’m reaching my target market…or that the following things attract people to my blog:

anal bleaching ghost sex if you barf I’m gonna spew snake holding baseball bat “boobs through” hole ass jesus foal billionaire mummies fucking dickzilla dildo stage handjob from my mom how big is a dinosaur poop mermaid “one of her pasties” screwnicorn strap-on seanted shoelases sucker is my second name vanilla ice had a tee shirt with a gator on it why does the hair on my feet hurt

I aim to deliver a high-quality experience that includes billionaire ghost mummies having anal sex with a twisty strap-on while wearing tee shirts with gators on them next to a big ol’ dinosaur turd and a snake holding a baseball bat that likes to watch. I’ve got no idea what an ass jesus foal is, however.

“Zookeeper! Zookeeper! Those two monkeys are killing each other!”

While on our trip to Ohio, we spent an evening visiting the Columbus Zoo. It was here that I discovered that I am an animal whisperer, as I could call animals to my side from the very back of the cages…or, as predators, they sensed a weak member of the human herd who had lost the will to live. One or the other. I’m conflicted about zoos. While I like having the opportunity to see some live animals that I assuredly would never see otherwise if zoos did not exist, and some animals (like the rhino) who are poached into extinction in the wild have at least a couple members of their species stagger on in captivity, I also feel sorry for the animals. These are hunters, roamers, animals that were meant to live in packs or herds, penned up into a small area, kept alone or with one or two other members of their species, being fed like pets, surrounded by bars, plexiglass, and screaming children…it sounds miserable. I wouldn’t wish that on my dog and he kept me up all night last night whining and pacing and generally making me want to heave him through the nearest window. There were three elephants in the Columbus Zoo’s elephant room, and what seemed like a small space to begin with was compounded by the fact that there were elephant droppings everywhere: the elephants couldn’t walk without stepping in their own shit. It made me want to cry. I shoved those tears down inside to save them for the next week when I’d be home and could sob in peace, and instead took some pictures of what you come to this blog to see: more statue-riding.

 

I can tell you one thing for certain: straddle a metal statue in freezing temperatures and your inner thighs are going to go numb for a while.