Do you feel voluminous, punk? Well, do ya?

The only problem with this Brush Buddies Justin Bieber Singing Toothbrush is the fact that it will make your teeth look like a total lesbian.

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.

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.

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.

The Thing is a subscription to quarterly objects that include words created by artists and writers. I guess I should support their vision, but instead I’m taking a giant 2o12 inaugural dump on it. Q1′s object: a shower curtain written by Dave Eggers. For the first time, the thing in the bathroom most full of shit won’t be your butt. Let’s hope that crab shampoo also gets rid of affectations, pretensions and general douchetardness.

The key to deucing at the office is to have a strategy. If your office has only multi-stalled bathrooms, you have to wait for the off hours – i.e. between 10 AM and 12 PM, when people’s coffee has percolated through but before the post-lunch tea-rush. If your office happens to have public restrooms as well as a few private, one-toilet bathrooms, you may think the single is the no-brainer. But what if you poop it up, then walk out just as your boss is waiting to walk in? He/she will know it was you. At least with the multi-stall there’s plausible deniability. Or, you could just buy this toilet-shaped scented tea candle holder, which is only nominally relevant to this post. Your call, stank ass.

Fucking Pabst Blue Ribbon is attempting to take over the planet. They have way too much merch. They make PBR golf balls, dog hoodies, bandanas, suspenders and even shower curtains. Come on, we all know hipsters don’t shower. I mean, no one’s even invented ironic soap…yet.

I’m in your toilet, eating your turdz. Is this the product that officially proves we have too much fucking time on our hands? Or is it The Back-Up, Your Bedside Gun Rack? I overheard someone say that America will end one day, that all empires do and given these two products I can’t say I’ll be sad to see us go.

Let’s call “Help I have a headache” what it really is. “Help I woke up on a Port-a-Potty wearing only a snorkel mask, a jock strap an ace bandage.” Too bad there’s not a face transplant and alternate identity in that little pill pouch.