This lamp puts the “um” in umbilical cord and the FBI wire tap on your landline, and then it puts the “um” on your landline, because who’s still tethered to the wall with a cord? This guy is, my friends. And that’s why it’s called the Circle of Life. (jazz hands.)
There’s a fine line between creative genius and homicidal psychosis, and that line is BFA diploma viewed from the side while it’s laying on a table. There’s also a fine line between blogging and being investigated by the FBI, and that line is a Google search bar that’s constantly populated by the words “Ed Gein human skin lamp.”
I can’t decide if these make me want to decorate for Halloween (time-consuming!) or just go the easy route and get pregnant with “accident-prone” Albino quadruplets.
These unborn fetus models are the only things that have ever made me regret my abortion. Just kidding! My body is a hostile environment that can’t support human life. Just kidding again! I was born without reproductive organs. Okay, I actually had them removed so I’d look skinnier. My goal is to weigh slightly less than a fetus.
It should be pretty obvious: the Virgin Mary is a Blood.
Hey, I sure hate you,
Cuz you’re so lazy,
I’ve got your number:
You’re no Scorsese
I know for sure that
Your future’s hazy,
“Deep” thoughts and slumber,
You fucking baby
And all the other guys
Have advanced degrees
But you’re encumbered
By Art Star Crazies.
Iron Man, otherwise known as Tony Starch.
Turns out the Holy Spirit entering your body feels exactly like brain freeze.
Holy Wine popsicles via my badical brother.
Hello, internet, Urban Outfitters customers and world at large, I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest blogger: the reanimated corpse of Joan Crawford. Take it away, Joan!
No… more… mustaches. What are mustaches doing on my internet when I told you: no more mustaches EVER? I blog and blog ’till I’m half-dead, and I hear people saying, “She’s getting bitter.” And what do I get? Our fucking readers… who care as much about the filthy posts we give them as they care about me. ANSWER ME! I give you disturbing drygoods, and you treat them like they’re not worthy of hipsters. Mustaches, why? Why? READERS, GET OFF OF THIS BLOG. You read the most offensive blog in cyberspace and you don’t care if your posts are tainted by more mustaches! And YOUR blog looks like some two-dollar-an-ad templated layout on some two-bit hosting service like GoDaddy.com. NO MORE MUSTACHES EVER!!!
Man, what a C U Next Tuesday! Well, let’s all listen to her, shall we? The old broad just might be on to something.
Well hellooo, brass kunckle meat pounder. Just to clarify: people count as meat, right? Even before they’re dead?
Via Pablo “Pow, Right in the Kisser!” Ampuero
