Surely it’s no coincidence that a dish used for making pie looks like a package of birth control pills. Either way, I can’t wait to pop your cherry…

…pie into the oven.

I’ll have you know that at my house, making tacos IS making war. Because I like to kill the cows myself, and also because I like to give them weapons and encourage them to fight back. You haven’t seen combat until you’ve seen a Red Angus with a thirst for blood, recently grave-snatched and freshly-stitched-on opposable human thumbs and a rusty Puckle Gun. Unless you’ve seen Apocalypse Now, in which case let’s just move on, shall we?

Obviously, looking up Woozie Wine Koozies made me question whatever happened to Swoozie Kurtz. I mean, who didn’t love that redheaded minx in Bubble Boy and The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom? So off to IMDB went I, only to discover the saddest news I’ve gotten in a long time: God rest her soul… Swoozie’s on Mike and Molly. Worse than dead, I’d say. So I’ll be pouring a little clearance rack Yellow Tail out of my Woozie in honor of Swoozie. And then I’m getting a hysterectomy and hot flashes, because those seem like the most logical next steps.

Hey, kids, this super-duper yummy and oh-so-nutritious Spaghetti O’s Pizza is brought to you by a severe Number 2 and the letters CP and S!

The last thing I want to see is your prune-puckered, raw chicken cheeks sliding around in a clear bathtub. For the record, the first thing I want to see is an all-Amish rendition of Small Wonder on Ice.

If you’re enough of a lonely loser to sit at your computer with a “pet rock” in your right hand, I have a feeling your left hand is doing some petting of its own, nawmean?

I just realized this is a USB rock, not a mouse. So let’s all ignore what I wrote and reflect on the fact that a chihuahua peed on my boob today.

Just like yours, these cocks deal with a lot of condensation. Oh, you said “condescension”? Carry on…

Who exactly needs coffee soap to wake up their hands while washing them? I’ll tell you who: the friend I had in High School who would sit on his hand before masturbating so that it would fall asleep and feel like a stranger was touching his wiener. Otherwise known as The Smartest and Eighth Most Perverted Friend I’ve Ever Had.

It’s hard to open a business in a shaky economy. It’s hard to open a bank account when you have bad credit. You know what it’s not hard to open? A GODDAMN BANANA.

Where the hell is the bandage for Pimp Stab? Uh… I’m asking for a friend. And yes, the friend and I do doubles. Just negotiate a price with my pimp.