“Boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-ing-mwrahr-ftt-ftt.” That’s the sound of a million cat lady boners rocket-blasting cats right out of laps. Cat-on-carpet static won’t be the only electricity in the air – not with the 6 Packs 9 Lives 2012 Calendar in the house. Your Tender Vittles may start to tingle, but you’re going to want a totally different kind of post to scratch this itch, ladies. Trust me.
Via my friend Toby, who is a lady, but not the cat kind.
True to pre-Thanksgiving-give-up-a-thon form, the magnet may be quintuple-nutted, but the post is still half-assed.
To each shmers own, but the only motorboating the Milk Jug inspires for me is an intense desire to stick the eyeball part of my face into the turning propeller of an actual motor boat. Product note: the jug is refillable with “animal and vegetable milk.” Well, since you put it that way…Thanks for ruining cereal, lattes and, oh yeah, everything ever.
PS – In case you’re wondering, “shmers” is not a typo, but my attempt at creating a multigender pronoun. It’s called mental masturbation innovation.
I had two goals today: Brownie Sundae; Ogle Dong. The Men-ups calendar fulfills neither. But I still ordered two. If you aren’t dreaming of a world where guys can fix stuff and wear shiny orange undies (but for some reason are not donning their giant, glistening boners), you’re probably a fascist.
Via The Daily What.
Nice lamps. I have two questions. 1) What are you reading? 2) Where are your pants? With lights like these, who needs girlfriends blow-up dolls. Let’s just hope that your bookworm’s comp covers motor-boating related eye-patches.
After reading the front of this card, I’m really, really, really glad it’s a boy.
The description for Breakfast in Bed begins, “This is a print from the wood series…” Uh, yeah, I think that goes without saying.
Artist Peter Lenk made this sculpture of Kai Diekmann (heh), who’s the editor-in-chief of a German magazine called Bild. Um, embarrassing! No self-respecting businessman should ever allow himself to be depicted in loafers WITHOUT THE PENNIES. It makes you look poor, and poor people totally can’t afford to get their balls waxed.
Jamie McCartney’s vagina sculpture is supposed to be provocative, but I find it kind of sterile. And by that I mean I know for a fact that trying to covertly impregnate these vajays is an exercise in futility. Although it almost took in Gapey McCaveDweller in row one, column eight. Close it up, wide load! I can see who you had for breakfast!
Be really careful if you use this humping dog soap to wash your kid’s mouth out. It’s a slippery slope from tough love to ruff love, naw meen?
