from HarryPartridge. Cartoonist and animator Harry Partridge makes some of the funniest animated shorts I’ve ever seen. A majority of them totally blow Seth MacFarlane’s animated shorts out of the water. Check out his page for more. If you’re a cartoon fan, you shall not be disappointed!
Tag Archives: youtube
Center City Comedy presents Lisa Yost
Comedian Lisa Yost performs at the Raven Lounge on 11/3/11
Filed under Fashion
I AM A MOTHERFUCKER: The Dangers of Public Transportation
It’s time for America’s favorite game-show: GUESS WHAT HAPPENS!
I shouldn’t spoil it for you, but this breaking news story is just fucking crazy. Everything in this video comes together with the grace and beauty of an elegant poem: The old white giant wearing the “I AM A MOTHERFUCKER” t-shirt, the little Luda black guy who seems to triple-dog dare Old Smokey way-too-soon, the essential use of the word “China-man,” the screeching second-puberty grandpa goes into when he’s done bashing face, the hipster chick who doesn’t budge or seem surprised, and the finale: a wonderful new word to sweep the internet: AMBALAMPS.
Let’s get right into this:
Hope you enjoyed this installment of WTFRUW?…better call that Ambalamps.
((UPDATE)) I don’t know if this was before or after the bus clip…I assume it’s before… but here’s some more anyway…in the name of fun.
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Filed under Fun Stuff, Mistakes, News, Television, Top Story
A Day in the Life of Porn Star Julia Bond
Heyyyyyyy….. I am Julia Bond, adult film star. I am a little crazy, a little wild, and always unpredictable. That’s just me. Me describing an average day in my life may seem unreal, but this is my life and I love it. My life is one big risk. Whether I am singing karaoke in Baskin Robbins, jumping a 12 foot high fence at midnight, or trying to buy weed seed’s at Home Depot. This is a just a boring ole day in my life, running errands.
Soon as I wake up I look at myself in the mirror. You know, with all this global warming taking place who knows the next thing it’s gonna affect? I have Dr. 90210′s number on speed dial just in case.
Once I am ready to take on my day, I am out the house. I have such a short attention span; I am always looking for trouble to get into. I live for exciting moments.
Once I have a thought, I go for it. I never have second thoughts. That is how all of my tattoos happened. Crazy days for a crazy lady.
I must warn you that what I am about to say may be disturbing, cause hair loss and age spots. That was my little disclaimer so: No Suing Me Allowed!
Ahhh, a day in my life….. ALWAYS starts off with my morning video for my YouTube channel: www.youtube.com/iamjuliabond. I have the best YouTube fans in the world.
After my video is all done, I head for the door. My crazy brain is always thinking of ideas for my YouTube channel. Since I am not a housewife by any means, I rarely cook….okay NEVER cook. Restaurants around town love me. After today I think I am banned from Denny’s and Baskin Robbins.
I am really going to have to put on my list of things to do, “Get friends who will feed me”.
As soon as I walked into Denny’s can you believe someone asked me if I was Carrot Top(?!)!! Silly Willy’s. I have to admit I was a little disappointed with this Denny’s. Old fries and a waitress that has never been seen since.
She took our order then served our food and disappeared like in a Criss Angel magic show. Now everyone might not know that Julia Bond needs her ice cream shake after she eats so I head to Baskin Robbins. I’m not sure what Baskin Robbins does for you, but some times they play the best elevator music in them. I couldn’t help myself and just had to dance.
I tried to open the freezer doors where they keep the ice cream cakes, but they were locked! I wanted to reenact the hard nipple scene from the movie King Pin. Nipples with a little frostbite is always sexy.
I started worrying what kind of neighborhood I was in where even ice cream cakes were not safe. I had to high tail it out of there. I could have been sold on the black market, or even worse: the swap meet.
There is no time to waste. Today is flying by here. I have so many errands I have to run I don’t know where to start. My next destination is the Disneyland for coupon cashers: WALMART. There is so much you can do there. Is it an auto body shop, grocery store, and nail salon?!?!?! It’s everything! As soon as I walked in I had a few stalkers. I felt their eyes all over me.
Here I am just trying to get my check list done and I was being followed. When I turned around all their eyes went in different directions, pretending to be interested in the items closest to them. Could they all be into scented candles? I think not. Finally I asked them if they knew me. All of a sudden they are all Helen Keller.
Write me a note! Something! I would have tried to speak to them more, but I had just spotted my next victim…oh, I mean “errand”—a man named Wilbur with the brightest shirt in all of the West Coast. He was on his cell phone. I think he was on PartyLine or Psychic Network. With the cameras on, I kindly demanded him to get off.
I needed him to be the 1st guest on Julia Bond Takes It To The Streets.
Being a nice girl, I asked if I could interview him for my show. I asked him if he could spell “sex.” He then proceeded to spell SEX, “S.E.X.O.” It was at this point where the interview went from good to great. My YouTube channel just went bilingual! After a few questions about him masturbating, things went from entertaining to serious.
Mr. Wilbur (if that was his real name) admitted to having his girlfriend in his trunk. I felt like I was hosting the show To Catch A Predator. I should have known, being that Walmart is directly across the street from Baskin Robbins, once again, I would have to run for my life.
When the sun starts to go down I start turning into my alter ego: Rude Ruth. If you thought Julia was bad then you are not ready for Rude Ruth. She has crazy written all over her. I try to keep her locked away in a cage, but she is tricky. It was her idea to start my One Hit Wonders videos. While I was driving and mass texting, Rude Ruth came out and said one thing….”music video”.
That had to be the best idea of the day. Lucky for me I carry booty shorts, corsets, and pearls in my purse at all times. You just never know when I might need them. I say, “better safe then sorry.” Now—Location! I had a few in mind, but how would I make my Daily Diary videos if I am in jail? Think, Julia, THINK! It was about 11:30pm when I found it…
The perfect location with lighting that could be used in a Spice Girls video. There is only one problem….a 12 foot fence. It’s okay; I mean, I do have Rude Ruth on my side. This fence is nothing. Big Deal!
I put one foot in the chain link and am quickly reminded that I am not 12 years old anymore. What happened to the saying “Once you ride a bike you’ll always know how?” Shouldn’t that go for fences too?
So climbing a fence is a little harder than I remember. I’m pretty tough so I took my shoes off and used my little monkey feet to hop over that fence like I was in the Olympics. It took me 4 tries and 15 minutes, but who’s counting?
Okay I was now in the local high school’s campus. My partner in crime, Annette, started filming me in front of a school building which actually ended up being someone’s house… My 1st music video was born. I was shaking it like I was on Star Search. That was until our little peeping Tom in the house called 911…
We ran across the school and over the fence Mission Impossible style. I’m now in the car putting my NASCAR driving experience to use all the way home.
It is now 1:15 in the morning and I am back at the one I can’t wait to get out of every morning, but the only place I can’t wait to be when I’m exhausted….my home.
I look at myself in the mirror one more time expecting to see the work of global warming, but I was lucky today. My bed, my pillows, my sheets are all calling for me. Saying, “Julia! Drop that dress on the floor and come to me.” I must listen.
Before I say goodnight I Twitter “Sweet Dreams” to my fans. You all make my day every day and make me that much crazier. Love me or hate me; I am simply me.
xoxo
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Filed under Charity, Events, Fun Stuff, Hot News, Irrationality, Porn, Purchases, Special Guest Blogger
Superdps=SuperDrunkPhoneService
So yes, we have this posted on the Contact Us page (or at least we used to…) but I’d like to OFFICIALLY announce to the world our Super Dudes Power Squad Drunk Dial Line. We’ve all done it, its okay. But instead of calling your Ex, or that long lost friend, call us instead! We’ll share the best messages with the world in future blogs, and maybe even put up a new page for it if we get enough messages. Come on, give it a try. It’ll be fun, I promise!
1) Save 215–253-8337 (it spells out 215-25-Dudes…or…215-BJ-Dudes….hmmm) in your contacts, maybe as DRUNK or Super Dudes or something that’ll catch your attention while drunk
2) Get drunk.
3) Call us and leave a message!
4) Feel satisfied.
5) Forget about it tomorrow morning
6) Be horrified when you hear yourself on our site a week later.
It’s like magic. It’s somewhat magical!
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Filed under Fun Stuff, Hot News, Irrationality, Mistakes
The Wasp Knife…Why?!
Driving up to school I was listening to the Preston and Steve Show (You guys rock.) and they were talking about the Wasp Knife. I was so interested and disturbed by this that I just had to look it up. And what is the Wasp Knife you ask? Let me give you a brief explanation..
The Wasp Knife looks like a regular hunting knife but instead of a big-ass sharp blade that can kill, maim, gut, slice and dice (which I think is more than enough for the job) they made it even deadlier. Inside the handle is a c02 cartridge that when the handle is triggered, injects gas ball inside the target that expands to the size of a basketball, freezing vital organs and creating an extreme amount of pressure causing the area the target was stabbed to explode.
Yes… I said explode. Think of the Chest Burster from the Alien films. Don’t believe me? Watch this!
Maybe I’m the only one, but I actually felt bad for the watermelons. The main uses excuses the makers of the wasp knife use is for taking down large predators under water and on land. Bears and Sharks for example.
OK granted, for the rare event I leave my couch and go diving and a shark came after me, I’d probably want to use something effective against it; although, a regular diving knife would probably do the job of giving the shark the message of: “Yo! I’m not a seal man! FUCK OFF!”
Also, I don’t think an exploding shark under water is something I wanna be around. As for bears…why the hell would I want to have a knife fight with a bear in the first place? I don’t think I would want to get that close to a bear to begin with. I don’t think a West Side Story knife fight works in a bear fight no matter how many Jets are with you.
It also lists use for tactical and military. I’ll quote the site because I couldn’t make it sound funnier if I tried.
“Today our soldiers face many new challenges and to overcome those challenges they deserve the most advanced equipment that is available to them. A simple knife is OK to have, but when it comes down to the last line of defense you want to be carrying something that will get the job done.” – Wasp Injection Systems
Get the job done?! The job is done when you kill the bastard! Not when you make his intestines spray all over you! Grenades are thrown not handed to the enemy! RPG stands for Rocket Propelled Grenade. Rocket Propelled being the key words in the initialism, that fucking thing needs to fly far far away from where you are.
Now on to the most important issue of my little rant: Do we really want the general public able to get their hands on these things? Unless you’re currently masturbating to the assassination footage of JFK I would think/hope you’d be saying “No!”
Look I’m just like any guy out there who admires something slightly dangerous and wants to toy with it. Give me a handful of M-80′s and I’ll have the time of my life. This knife however, crosses the line. There’s no use for this product other than to kill something with it or make it suffer.
Police officials in Great Britain are taking this seriously and are on high alert for anyone who is in possession of one. About 350 knife attack cases are reported everyday in England and Wales. I think exploding victims would greatly decrease the survival rates.
The knife is priced at about $380, which would make you think that it may be difficult for many muggers or low life scum bags to acquire, but I’m pretty sure the science behind it isn’t that complicated. What’s stopping someone from purchasing the damn thing, duplicating the technology, and selling it much cheaper?
Think about it, If you’re being mugged, you’re pretty much fucked if the son of bitch that stabs you has one of these. There’s not really much hope of you making it after part of you has exploded and you’re laying there dying of severe blood loss.
Gauze won’t do the trick, neither will stitches.
That’s a mess Billy Mays couldn’t clean up with all the Oxyclean in the world at his disposal. The Sham Wow guy wouldn’t even try to clean that up, unless of course a prostitute was involved…
From a forensics standpoint at least it won’t be that hard to catch the bastard and identify what weapon was used. There will definitely be PLENTY of evidence. Sadly I don’t think the victim will be able to make it to court to testify. Something like this needs to be banned. QUICK.
Filed under Fun Stuff, Hot News, Irrationality, Mistakes, Purchases, Rant, Review, Special Guest Blogger, Television
An Open Letter to a Celebrity-Obsessed America
My Dear Celebrity-Obsessed Americans–
Though the whole world (especially the Western One) is crippled by their unhealthy appetite for tabloids and gossip entertainment that belittle and viciously attack the personal lives of those who they all wish that they could be, I can only speak on behalf of like-minded people within my own country (plus, I don’t speak British).
It certainly brings great pain to my forever-tainted (a’giggle) heart to bring such an intellectually vicious attack on the Celebrity-Obsessed, because I understand your way of thinking. It’s easy to get caught up in the gossip of individuals that you feel as though you know personally.
The tragedy lies in the inconvenient truth that your lives just aren’t that interesting most of the all of the time. Feel free to disagree (and when I say that, I mean, if you do disagree, go fuck yourself), but it seems that you’ve taken a healthy veneration of the sufficiently famous to a level of inscrutable and mentally-damaging douchebaggery.
There was a time when the “Celebrity” was the Hollywood Starlet, or the drug-addled alcoholic role model that we could allow into our homes and not have to call him “Dad.”
Now, you’ve taken to labelling the bewildered, developmentally disabled, social butterflies cunts who make up Reality TV casts as “Tinseltown Elite.” This is pure idiocy and you/we (for you) should be ashamed.
I admit my own shame for actually subjecting myself to shows like American Idol and Hell’s Kitchen (essentially FOX‘s whole “reality” line-up) even if they are, on occasion, entertaining. As Americans, we love to watch the weak-willed crumble to the point of emotional suicide while being interminably derided by British hard-asses while they grasp at the pant-legs of the Entertainment Industry for their 5 minutes of so-called “fame.”
The most frightening notion here is that while you can force your otherwise (probably) rational minds to accept these personality-deficient goblins as legitimate celebs, you take pride in the shock-and-awe style attack on those who have devoted their entire lives to entertaining you.
While I am not going to defend the morally questionable actions of outstanding thespians such as Christian Bale, Russel Crowe, Jude Law, Robert Downey Jr., Lindsay Lohan (okay, maybe calling Lohan an outstanding thespian is like swallowing a pill the size of Michael Moore’s first dump of the day), etc…etc…etc…I will point out to you, the near-sighted and judgmental pseudo-critic, that these people create art for you.
Their purpose in life (aside from making obscene amounts of money) is to put on a costume and dance so that you can experience the emotions that you’ve forgotten exist as well as tear you away from your insignificant and thoughtless daily routine…or at least allow you to escape into your imagination for two hours.
Imagine, if you will, Harvey Levin staking out the home of J.D. Sallinger, or a team of photographers catching John Updike offguard, subsequently causing him to die of a heart attack before the cancer even had a chance.
You watch TMZ and Access Hollywood curled tightly around a throw pillows, clutching a glasses of wine like the blood of the Christmas Jew and spend your TV Dinner evenings mocking people just like you (except hard-working and successful) who happen to have a camera shoved in their faces while they sloppily stumble out of a bar in the Valley.
Shame–the fuck–on you!
Does it take some self-obsessed ladyboy, drowning in his own unearned arrogance, screaming “LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!” teary-eyed into a web cam for you to realize that something is wrong?
Or maybe a terrible (but hilarious) gag-site that encourages web-users to place bets on when the pop diva will put on her tallest pair of stilettos and leap to her death onto something would suffice…
Is there any depth to which you will not sink? You could be the most kind-hearted individual on the planet, but when you take part in this Circus Maximus, you are the vile bully that you knew in your heart that you would never become.
And while I am in no way suggesting that those who throw themselves into the public eye, begging for your attention, are immune to scrutiny, I am begging for the sake of our civilization that you cease fire.
Stop watching TMZ.
Stop giving paparazzi something to do with their empty lives.
Stop getting news information unfounded gossip that you proceed to mistake for information from Perez Hilton and E!.
And please Stop treating President Barack Obama like he’s a Paris Hilton. He’s not a film star. He’s not Hollywood’s Darling. He’s the Leader of the Free World and the Commander in Chief of our Military. You desperately need to start treating him with the consideration of his position and not that of Brad fucking Pitt.
You are contributing (no matter how minimally) to the very form of destructive social behavior that will destroy us all (and makes us appear silly in the eyes of the rest of the world)…and it is something of which we are all guilty.
Never Have I Been More Sincere,
-Alex
Guy Ritchie, Chi City, and Brain Crack
I recently attended a private screening of the (new to Blu-Ray) Guy Ritchie film Rockn’Rolla (by which I mean I rented it on Blu-Ray and watched it alone). As a director and storyteller, Ritchie stands out among the greatest. His forte is the modern British gangster films with urban flair and stylization; however, he does tend to stray from this formula (especially during his infatuation with Madonna) but I think I appreciate this film more because Madonna decided to leave a genius, steal his style, and chase after Alex “Insult to the Great American Pass-time” Rodriguez. Rockn’Rolla is a great film that takes us right back to the days of Ritchie’s more well-known works: Snatch and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. If you haven’t seen it, see it. Fuck Madonna.
Have you heard of Mr. Chi City? Well, MrChiCity3 to be exact. Yes? Well, I’m not surprised. His YouTube channel has almost fifty-thousand followers along with almost four thousand friends. I wouldn’t insult him by calling MrChiCity a YouTube phenomenon, but he’s definitely a YouTube celebrity. The difference, of course is that YouTube phenomenons have existed and are no longer individually relevant beyond what they did (intentionally or unintentionally) in the past. For example: Chris Crocker (and might I add: FUCK YOU, Chris Crocker! You’ll always be a joke and a novelty. We don’t even want to watch your shit when we’re sitting at home, drunk, watching YouTube videos on Playstation), Star Wars Kid, Dramatic Gopher, Tay Zonday (Chocolate Rain) and numerous others that I can’t be bothered mentioning.
Mr. Chi City on the other hand is in your face, but never forces himself (or is forced by other sources) upon you. He’s a colorful–and not in a racist way–character/real-talk-real-life mayne dude who wants to be entertaining and generally wants to communicate with his fans. He’s not a celebrity, he’s a YouTube personality and he doesn’t pretend that he’s better than anyone else, unlike some people. And because he provides me with hours upon hours of comfortably racial real-world comedy, I can do no less than pimp his black ass on this site (I’m not a racist).
Today, I was invited to ponder the notion of Brain Crack, a term coined/invented, I suppose, by ZeFrank of ZEFRANK.COM. This notion stood out for me because I am addicted, not only to the notion of Brain Crack, but also its implications. I am a brain crack addict.
Perhaps I should take a moment to explain. Brain Crack, as I understand it, is defined as the process by which ideas are stored in your brain-case which are potentially decent and well-thought out, but as they remain and develop in your brain for long periods of time without you acting on them, they become too precious and complicated and any action that you take on these ideas will never be sufficiently satisfying to you anymore.
I think this concept adequatly defines my problem. Most of my concepts, ideas, musings, writings and tomfoolery exists solely within my canta-lobes and will never see the light of day. And if they do happen to seep out into a computer application or a dusty notebook, they will never take the form that I truly intended…and that will be disappointing.
Maybe this is a good thing. No, not keeping your potentially brilliant ideas hidden away in the dark swamps of your brain (where vicious, blood-sucking marsh-beasts all resemble a melting wax droid of Sophia Loren…I’m sorry…I could’ve just said “resemble Sophia Loren.”), but letting ideas go, and allow them to take the shape that they do. Your intuitions are probably flawed and unreasonable; the same reason why we stand firmly by the terrible cartoons we loved when we were children.
It’s time to let go. The Brain Crack is destructive and evil. It’s what holds creative and brilliant humans back from doing something that they’re proud of. I’ve tried to start breaking this addiction Cold Turkey and it’s not as easy as I wish it were.
Why John Mayer is the Most Awesome Person Ever…
…but Pretty Much Sucks as a Musician.
John Mayer is the coolest person ever. Too bad his music is terrible. I lay out my case below.
Why he is Awesome:
1. John Mayer is 6’3. Most people don’t know he’s this tall, therefore when people do meet him, they often say, “Wow, you’re tall!” to which he replies, “And you’re a little fat.”
For those of you who are short, you may think this is mean, but imagine this: You’re tall. Every person you meet and some strangers like to inform you of that fact as if up until that point you had no idea that you were taller than the average human.
“Wait..a..minute…I’m TALL?? Thank you, good sir! Now I solved the mystery of why people ask me to reach for things on high shelves and why I have to specially order 37 inch inseam pants! You changed my world! I am forever indebted to you!”
Also, they usually ask if you played basketball. This is incredibly annoying. I don’t ask short people if they were ever a jockey, so they should leave me the hell alone. People that are short suck. John Mayer is just giving them their comeuppance. For that, he is my hero.
2. John Mayer refers to Capri Sun juice bags as “IV bags of fruit juiciness.” Let’s put aside the fact that I love Capri Sun for a moment and think about that phrase. Capri Suns are indeed full of fruit juiciness, and they are also shaped like an IV bag. So, no only is he right, he’s clever for thinking up this description before the actual company that makes the juice bags.
Oh, and how cool does that sound? IV bags of fruit juiciness? Yeah, my face just got rocked off, too.
3. When John Mayer likes someone, he says: “They can sit at my lunch table.” Holy shit! That is the raddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life! It’s like you’re the new kid at school in the seventh grade and it’s lunch time. You look around as you try to decide which group of unknown faces to sit with. Suddenly, there’s a tap on your tiny prepubescent shoulder. It’s a little John Mayer, looking as awesome as ever, and he says to you: “Hey, you can sit at my lunch table.”
Like it’s no big deal! Is he not the best person ever created, or what? You don’t know anyone yet, but he takes it upon himself to take you under his wing and teach you all that is John Mayer. You can only hope that some of that awesome will rub off on you in the process. But most likely not, so don’t get your hopes up.
4. John Mayer said this: “I get recognized somewhere in between, like, local meteorologist and national meteorologist.” Haha, hilarious. I don’t think Glenn “Hurricane” Schwartz is laughing quite as hard though.
5. John Mayer has a TV Show. No, really. Look it up on YouTube. It was a one-episode documentary of John Mayer. He basically makes fun of himself and his fans. Also, he dresses up in a bear suit and tells his fans how much “John Meyers sucks” in the parking lot of his own show. Oh, and he insults some old ladies. Tell me that’s not cool.
Alright, now that you know why John Mayer is cooler than you, let’s investigate the darker side of things: His music sucks. For the sake of this article, I’m going to concentrate on two of his worst songs…
Your Body is a Wonderland. First, here are the lyrics.
John Mayer, you creep! I know what you’re saying: ‘these lyrics aren’t so bad. It’s not like he talks about fuckin’ the bitches or beastiality, or anything like that.’ But consider this: John Mayer’s fan base is mostly made up of girls aged 13 to 19. Do you really want a 31 year old man singing about putting his handsall over someone’s body to your 15-year old?
Also, by saying “candy lips and bubblegum tongue,” we can only assume he’s talking about a young innocent girl around the age of 13. I mean, who eats candy? CHILDREN, that’s who, John Mayer…or should I say, Humbert Humbert??
And if statutory-raping your daughter wasn’t enough, he also says: “I know you’re mine all mine all mine.” Whoa. Women are not possessions to be had, even if they are underage girls! All mine? You can’t own a human being. Or could you in John’s perfect world of the OLD SOUTH?! So what is it John Mayer? Are you an advocate of slavery or just a misogynist? Disgusting, Mr. Mayer. You should be ashamed.
Daughters. Again, the lyrics first.
What the fuck?? Look at that last verse there. Yeah, those are the real lyrics. Not only does this song pretty much seal the deal that John Mayer is a sexist, it also proves that he thinks women can not do anything without a man. “You are the god and the weight of her world” Are you kidding me?
Now he’s promoting false idols, too! I’m not a Christian, but if I were, there would be some hell to pay! Furthermore, if women don’t have strong male role models they are basically useless in life? Tell that to all the women who are successful and didn’t have a father or had a horrible father, like Dorothy Parker whose mother died when she was five and her father was physically abusive.
I’m pretty sure that Dorothy Parkeris a way more important figure than John Mayer ever will be. Also, women can only become mothers? Thanks for all the confidence John! What if I said whiney white boys from Connecticut can only become white collar snobs who think their problems are bigger than they actually are….oh wait.
How about they can only become womanizers, preoccupied with young girls…oh uh…
Ok, but he’s still wrong! You may be saying, ‘But aren’t these complaints really more reminiscent of his songwriting rather than his musical styling?’ Well yes and no. The songs really are not that great. They’re mediocre and are not memorable in any way. The songwriting being terrible is just the icing on the cake.
However, even if his music and lyrics make him out to an untalented chauvinist, I think I can forgive him because of his awesome personality. Oh, and this picture.
*******
As much as it may pain me to disclose, I must take issue with the notion that John Mayer is somehow incapable of possessing musical talent. Of course, it is surely no matter of opinion that he is not the most prolific or influential artist out there in the cosmos currently blessing us with his voice and magical penis fingers; however, I must say that his music and mastery of the 6-string is not among the worst to be considered.
Especially if you would take into consideration that his music isn’t specifically MEANT for teenage girls, it’s meant for everyone…along with the obvious fact that, like myself, you wouldn’t count yourself among the College Stoners and Sorority Girls who ball up into a spiritually orgasmic fetal position when they consider how one could be Bigger Than one’s Body. That being said, his music is pleasant to masturbate listen to.
On an unrelated note…look around Google Earth…right about…here.
*******
By saying that his music isn’t meant for teenage girls, you can also say that Insane Clown Posse’s music isn’t meant for overweight angsty teens with no friends. Even if it wasn’t intended, that’s your fan base and the only people really listening, so yeah, it pretty much is meant for them.
Also, his music sounds like it should be played in Talbott’s or an elevator.
Filed under Arts, Fun Stuff, Hot News, Irrationality, Music, News, Rant, Review, Special Guest Blogger, Top 5 List
Laundry List of Complaints
Laundromats are always humble buildings with no supervision, populated by seedy characters. You pop quarter after quarter into one of the washing machines, wondering why the hell it costs so much just to do a load of laundry.
Consider this: It costs $1.25 to wash a load, and it costs $2.00 to get the same load anywhere approaching dry. If you buy the detergent and the dryer sheets there, you’re out another $3.00.
By the time it’s all said and done, you’ve spent $6.25 cents just to wear clean clothes for another week. Of what tangible good is that? Is anyone impressed that your clothes are clean? Do they feel better against your skin when they’re clean? Are you going to lose your job at Subway if your clothes are a little dirty? NO.
The concept of watching clothes came from an older time, back when people used to work outdoors, in the elements. Of course it’s a good idea to wash clothes caked with dried mud or covered in dust and dirt—but if you’re like me and your typical day consists of sitting around in your house, sitting around in your office and sitting around in your car, then the worst you get on your clothes is some mustard stains and a little bit of sweat if you forget to turn the AC on.
Washing clothes that aren’t visibly dirty in some profound way is a waste of time. Jeans in particular can be worn for months on end without being changed or washed. They were designed for rugged workmen who spend their days lifting heavy objects and kicking each other in the balls with steel toed boots for no reason other than the passing amusement that they garner from it.
Most of us use them for the far less rugged feat of sitting around the house, wondering when it will be time to eat again. The only time an American’s jeans are under any stress at all is when we try to squeeze our bovine asses into a pair that used to fit us 5 years and 30 pounds ago.
The only items that should be laundered with regularity are socks and underwear. Socks need to be washed because they stink like a reindeer’s wet asshole after only a day on your feet, and underwear because not all farts are what they seem.
Also, no amount of shaking, no matter how thorough, ever seems to fully dislodge the final droplets of urine from one’s cock after taking a piss. But honestly, it’s cheaper to just buy new socks and underwear at Wal-Mart than it is to launder them. To recap, shirts should only be washed when they become visibly dirty in some way. A good rule of thumb is that if stains make up an area of more than 15% of the shirt, it should be washed in the eventual future.
Jeans pretty much never need to be washed unless you spill honey on them or something. Socks and underwear should be thrown away and replaced with new socks and underwear on a regular basis.
Following my expert advice, you should cut your trips to the Laundromat down to a modest annual visit. You’re welcome.
–The Amazing Atheist (Honorary Super Dude!!)
