You can buy these Solar Powered Animal Nightlights at Nigel’s Eco Store. That’s right, Nigel’s Eco Store. The only thing getting less laid than that store is no one. Not even that fucking Welch’s Grapes guy. And that guy hasn’t seen a vagina since the day he was born and even then his mom, like, totally blitzed out on an epidural.

This is amazing and I can’t help but think you can do it your damn self. Let’s not pretend you don’t get weekly emails from JoAnn’s Fabrics. I’m sure it’s just me. Like I’m the only one who still gets her period in her pants and has to go home and change at lunch. Yeah. Right. Whatever.

via swissmiss

Not a Kangaroo penis, that’s for damn sure. If you like Kangaroo penises, then you need to be fitted for cement shoes and thrown in the river, because even knowing they exist in such a repulsive state is ruining my goddamn life.

Print via Bloesom

“I love you just the way I am.” All except for you, fupa.

via Orangehouse Blog

If someone’s going to eat my brains, it might as well be these gals. Now if I someone’s going to eat my other parts, I’d skew more Charlie Sheen. Just kidding, I don’t want it beat up. Or coked up.

via Rareica

Mirror, mirror on the wall… Your ass is fat. That is all.

Fairest Wall Art, $24.95

God, I miss the 80s. Big hair, bright colors, oversized glasses, protruding nips, pleat pants, spandex… Wait a second. God, I miss American Apparel…

These aren’t just High School Doodles, they’re embroidered!

With this clipboard mirror, I can gaze admiringly at my unparalleled beauty while I hang up notes reminding me to first pity ugly people, and then punch them in the nuts.

This is nothing more than a picture I found, but I like the idea. Let’s all buy old pin-ups and give them tattoos. Or as a co-worker suggested taint-toos. They’re tattoos for your taint. He (or she, it’s an anonymous co-worker) highly recommends “The Eeyore” where your butt hair acts as a field of wiry grass.

Sometimes we’re let out of our cages to terrorize the city. Or at least avoid the 112 degree heat index in an air conditioned bike shop.

There are two factors that’ll make us break our own rules and stand in close proximity to a bunch of fixies: talented friends and Texas summers. Seriously, Dallas, what the fuck?

By the way, I’m taking volunteers to dust my dashboard. Which isn’t a euphemism, but probably should be.

Anyspray, Nikki an I strapped on our bitchfaces and headed to Transit Bike Company to make like an underwire pushup bra and support the tits out of Connor Hill and Matt Brinker, aka The Magnificent Beard. They do sweet-ass shit like this:

So what are the morals of the story? The Beard on the left (Connor) is more talented than you will ever be. The Beard on the right (Matt) is also more talented than you will ever be. And, finally, if you’re supporting your friends anywhere near The Gap,  Nikki will bully you into buying half price t-shirts that you don’t even want in the first place. Fact.