This print is going right above my toilet because I always find Dolly’s lyrics such an inspiration. Islands in the stream, that is what poo are – unless you feel the need to flush between courses. And sometimes you need to Jolene, Jolene, Jo-lean into it to pinch off those difficult turds. If there’s a Country hell I’ll be there working 9 to 5 on the brimstone factory line with Kenny Rogers. He knows what he did.

Those fuckwads over at Keep Calm Gallery owe us pretty big for inciting this bullshit. The good news is they’re finally paying up. Check out this super swank gold foil Smile print. They actually have quite a few cool prints on their site and they’re located in the UK so cheers! ‘ello! and wanker! to losing your ass on the exchange rate.

via Style by Emily Henderson

This is a portrait of me in Junior High. I went through a really attractive “frighteningly underweight while wearing a patchwork vest” phase. And, yes, I know what you’re thinking. Everyone did wanna hit it.

Well, you used the wrong form of “everyday.” Who’s the asshole NOW?

I loved these when I first laid eyes on them and then I saw the price tag. $34 for something this awesome?!? It’s like someone started a Make-A-Wish foundation just for me.

Our friend Cassidy posted The Presidential Ham on our friend Alan’s wall and said, “You need these.”And while it’s true he may need them, I think it’s safe to say we kinda all do.

Chances are, if I’m behind you, it’s a swift roundhouse kick to the Mom jeans.

Stacie013 made an entire typewriter out of cardboard and glue. Now, I’m not really sure why you’d need one of these, but then again God gave you genitals and you haven’t done much with those either.

There’s a place that turns children’s drawings into toys and I can’t wait for my little squiggle-drawing turd of a nephew to start stepping it up. Seriously, I’m tired of “admiring” your pictures of tangled string. Get it together, toddler.

via BuzzFeed

This road trip heart print reminds me of that old song, “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” That actually happened to me, by the way. I woke up naked and covered in blood in a bathtub full of ice at the Motel 6. Turns out the guy who was after my kidneys had a really weak grasp on that whole human anatomy thing. It was so funny trying to explain to the doctor that I’d been drugged against my will when my record shows that I’m constantly ODing on my own accord. Ah, roadtrips. They always give me the best stories.