I’m a little teapot,

Short and stout.

Here is my handle,

Here is my spout.

When I get all steamed up

I will shout

That you’ll probably get gastroenteritis from non-pathogenic microbial bone-decay residue contaminating your tea, or possibly even contract cadaverine or putrescine from ingesting toxic doses of the substances.

I wouldn’t be caught dead in this coffee table dress. Bitch, please. That’s what my coffin dress is for.

One night in the summer of 2006, I spent many hours drinking on a beach in Cannes, France with the guy who did the laughs for both Beavis and Butthead. The experience was incredibly odd, as he was totally normal in every way, but then I’d say something unbelievably witty – naturally – and a hybrid Beavis/Butthead laugh would come out. Also that night, I was asked on a date by a very sweaty dancing man with Alopecia, shortly before making out with a German guy with blonde dreadlocks.

And these, my friends, are some of the many reasons you should get into advertising: free 10-day trips to French Riviera, the meeting of D-minus-list celebrities, dance parties that resemble an episode of True Life, horrible champagne-goggle decision making of the Aryan-nation-cum-Reggaeton variety, and the audacity to start a blog solely for the sake of talking about these things. Also, these dudes are terrifying, no?

via that Bunghole, Alan McCoy

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.

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.

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.

Apparently the cast of Pawn Stars just discovered the invention of mail because all of these bacon-flavored envelopes are out of stock.

via Clint “Drop It Like It’s Hot” Martin

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.

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.