How can certain species on this planet be so unattractive? I mean. Jesus. What the fuck? I just watched a monkey show on PBS and they said that the big noses on the fellas are totally hot to sexy sexy lady Proboscis Monkeys.
Oh yeah. This little philly wants me bad. Can't you just see it in those come-fuck-me equestrian eyes? Mmmm-hmmmm! I'm gonna get all Enumclaw on this hot, sexy horse. Mmmm. That's right. This little motherfucker wants me BAAAAAAD! Why does she have to be such a bitch about it, though? Look at that shitty look she's giving me. That pony totally wants to fuck me and then buck me. Totally. Fucking bitch pony. Mmmm-hmmm.
I'll never bring up Slutz again. Never.
As I investigate Bratz, I only come up with more sick shit.
Someone please answer this: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DRESS UP A BABY LIKE A CHEAP HOOKER? PLEASE ANSWER! I DON'T UNDERSTAND! Whoever gives me the best answer will get a terrific prize!!!
Holy Jesus.
I may sound prude. Really. That's fine. But what the fuck are toy companies/retailers/parents thinking when they buy their precious little girls fucking "Bratz" dolls. These disgusting dolls look like fucking sluts with botoxed lips and carefully placed herpies. Bratz are skanky and I can't understand how a parent could let little girls play with scabie-infested ho-dolls.
The fucking disgusting toenail fungus thing on TV. I don't know what the ad execs were thinking. EVERY TIME a commercial for this incredibly tasteless company comes on and I see that toe-jam-sucking little motherfucker, I can't change the channel fast enough. My mouth gets all dry and my stomach seizes and I seriously think I'm going to vomit until I can fill my field of vision with vastly different fare. To be honest, as I'm writing this and I'm looking at the picture in this post, I am totally fucking grossed out. But this is where I give to you, the reader. Fuck that is fucking gross.
I wish that everyone would boycott this company's product. I might change my tune if I get a disgusting fucking gnarly fungus colony growing under my rotten toenail, but for now I'm all over this. Really. This commercial is fucking disgusting and it's not funny and it adds nothing to my life but revulsion and it needs to go the fuck away. Fucking disgusting. Really really. Down with the good people at Lamasil. Disgusting amoral fucking evil vomit-makers. Blech.
This is Russ. Russ has a toothache in the photo above. Russ is one of the few people with whom I worked at my last job who I really liked. There were others, but right now we're talking about Russ. He rarely smiled and even more rarely laughed. When I first met Russ, he was my challenge. If I could make him crack up, then everything would be OK in the world. Suffice it to say that all is OK in the world. The reason I bring up Russ here is that he was witness to this:
When dining in Chicago, one rarely can finish a plate of food as it comes in gluttonous portions. This particular evening, Russ and I went to Harry Carey's for dinner after a long and annoying photo shoot and I ordered the Sausage and Green Peppers. My mom used to make sausage and green peppers, so I thought, "What the hell." The difference is that my mother's sausage and green peppers didn't look like a pile of charred severed penises.
I like kids. I have 2 of them and, really, I love them very much. I like kids in general. Really.
But, holy fucking shit, this facsimile-fake-premie-baby, found in the pages of the Sunday paper's Parade Magazine makes me throw up in my mouth.
I don't know why I saw it. I don't know why it jumped out at me at 25,000 ft above sea level, but there you have it. The Hamgina.
I was just minding my own business, flipping through the September 2006 issue of SkyMall as my wife and I made our way back to Seattle from a wedding in NYC. I don't usually find myself startled or personally offended on cross-country flights, but this particular flight brought me inspirations that I didn't know existed. When I showed the picture to my wife and uttered the magic word, "Hamgina," she surprisingly did not find the sick pleasure in this concoction that I did. Frankly, Amie was trying to get me to "Keep it down!" But, for christ's sake, there is no possible way that someone, anyone, on the set of the ham photoshoot didn't notice that the style of displayed slicing shown so greatly resembled a...well, you know...a spread vagina.
There just is no way.
Happy Holidays!
