I didn’t think it possible, but there is something out there stupider than a vague, sweeping internet censorship bill written by a bunch of computer-illiterate old blowhards who, as we speak, are probably on the phone with one of their grandkids trying to figure out how to “make the sex tweets” at their intern. Wondering if this dog rack dog humiliation device is even real? Me, too. But we’ll have to wait until tomorrow because the Fairdale site is closed to protest SOPA.
Ok, so Dinoprints says their custom-made, personalized, realistic photo-illustrations of people riding dinosaur are for kids. But that doesn’t justify the restraining order. I mean, I get it. My ass is so fly it’s criminal, but a simple rejection note would have sufficed. You’d think no one ever ordered a poster of themselves naked, nursing an armadillo while riding a dinosaur before.
On sale now at Fab.com.
The VHS notebook is the perfect place to compose the 500-page dissertation it will take to explain Roku to your mom. I know. As my mom is so fond of reminding me, “You’ll get old someday and then you won’t be able to do the technology either.” And as I am so fond of reminding her, “Nuh-uh!”
The Forever Alone is supposed to be the perfect mattress for us single types. But, where will your 20 cats sleep? Zing! Now get out of here so I can change into my Cathy night shirt. I have a freezer of ice cream to eat and a stack of bikinis I want to try on under florescent lighting, then a long night of crying myself to sleep. Ack!!
A recipe for Unicorn Poop cookies. Looks like their diet consists mainly of rainbows or the Lisa Frank section of your local Target. I’d stay away from both. They pack a mega-lot of poop into those glittery colons.
Rock-a-bye baby in the tree top, when the wind blows…dirty underpants to your tiny baby face. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. That’ll teach you to be a baby, motherfucker.
Republican primaries? Snooze-town. Ditch those border-line offensive blow-hards for the really offensive kind and vote Badder Homes and Gardens for Best Kept Secret in the 2012 Bloggies. In fact, vote Badder Homes and Gardens for everything, especially President of the United States. Our first act will be to install tampon dispensers in every room of the White House. You never know when you might need one.
These gesture pop-up cards cover almost the entire spectrum of my emotions. There’s “Fuck You,” “Punch to the Face,” “Your Chode is Stupid Long,” “Look at the Stars,” and “Bunny Ears in Your Instagram.” I’d still like to see the last two, though: “Surprise! Prostate Exam!” and “Titty Twister.”
In what world does this thing come with just one rap video vixen? I demand a cash refund. Have Jeeves shovel it into my stretch Hummer and I’ll be on my way.
“Boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-ing-mwrahr-ftt-ftt.” That’s the sound of a million cat lady boners rocket-blasting cats right out of laps. Cat-on-carpet static won’t be the only electricity in the air – not with the 6 Packs 9 Lives 2012 Calendar in the house. Your Tender Vittles may start to tingle, but you’re going to want a totally different kind of post to scratch this itch, ladies. Trust me.
Via my friend Toby, who is a lady, but not the cat kind.
