Invest in a diamond toilet to turn your tinkles into twinkles.

Call me a feminist, but I think men should be under as much soul-crushing social pressure to stay thin and beautiful as women are. In the interest of this somewhat self-serving goal, I am posting fatty fat fat David, a giant fat statue of the clit-shriveling way you look when I wear my X-ray specs. So stop pushing your 28″ pants down further under your bellies and  go to the gym already. And get me a cheeseburger on your way home, Fatty.

The product description for this soy sauce dropper says it’s mouth-blown and gives you control over how much flavor you want. I say if you plan on breaking this out at your next dinner party, don’t be surprised if some of the ladies and gents get a little confused about exactly what kind of party you’re hosting. Know what I mean, Vern?

All of the creepy without any of the fun. These stick-on glory holes definitely don’t suck. And that’s a shame.

Edible Scrabble: Where no one can yell at me for telling people to eat shit and die.

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s…a drunk guy riding a cooler pulling a drunk dog in another cooler! A.K.A. the 2012 Republican party mascot. Fuck that stupid elephant. Available in gas-powered for the anti-evolution, mid-western social conservatives and electric for the fiscally conservative, socially liberal independents (at least you have a choice when it comes to cooler scooters!).

Turns out Pharrell Williams is inexplicably in the candle business, and he has a serious message: FUCK YOU, ELECTRICITY! Not that it comes as any surprise: Pharrell is a traditional Amish name meaning, “He who forcefully plows the backyard.” Though some prefer the modern meaning: “That art what she said.”

Hey, y’all. I’m not writing this at night, but I could be with my new Party Rats laser finger rats (see manufacturers note). Nothing says party like plague-ridden vermin. And no party is complete without a little midnight blogging. Call Andrew W.K. and tell him to start working on a new album. Then bang your face against a wall because the party force is so strong in you. And when you recover from the concussion buy yourself a set of these rats. They make masturbating mega festive.

Okay, loyal readers, do I need to set you up with the “Can you hear me meow” jokes, or can you handle them all by yourself? (rimshot!)

Also, if you’re the kind of person who buys a cat case, I have a feeling you spend a lot of time at iHome. (buh duh bum ting!)

Please take these terrible jokes as proof that this has been the week from hell.

Spit out the cyanide capsules this iPhone-charging breather is not real! Yet. It’s just a concept. But maybe get out the Ouija board and ghost-dial Kevorkian for some advice because you know it’s just a matter of time.