What I got him:
What he got me:
I love ya, Meesh!
Mind Games
SharkBoy: “So are we really not getting anything for each other for Valentines?”
Oh god…
Me: “I thought we said no…?”
SharkBoy: “Okay. You sure? Because there was two things at this one particular store and now there’s only one.”
Think! Don’t panic! THINK!!
Me: “Well then my surprise is ruined!”
Christ, now what do I do?
We’ll Always Have Bikini Bottom
Via BoingBoing: Spongebob Actors perfectly dub old movie classics – Brilliant!
Youtube took it down by request of the producers! Be the man!
Lurid Digs
Thanks to The Digital Fireman for finding this site about posing nekkid in absolute horror rooms. Avid DR readers will note that I totally called these kinds of pictures as a new hobby, a few years back (semi-NSFW).
Luriddigs.com brings you the best of the worst of men living in (decorating) sin. These pictures are absolutely no where near safe for work but had me and SharkBoy laughing for hours. The commentary is laser-sharp and bitchy.
Worst? Hell It Sounds GREAT!
Men’s Health has labeled the Outback Steak House’s Aussie’s Cheese Fries as the worst food in America (via BoingBoing). It doesn’t sound so bad. It’s one serving of gravy away from Quebecois poutine. And they’ve obviously never eaten at a Big Boy.
In Canada I think it’s Dangerous Dan’s “Collosal Colon Clogger Combo”: (hit the MENU tab)
24oz burger served with a quarter pound of cheese, a quarter pound of bacon, and 2 fried eggs. Also comes with a large shake (flavor of your choice) and a small poutine.
“Small poutine”? Pussies!
A Helping, Meaty Hand
During all this snowfall frenzy we experienced last week, I was walking home in the slush, enjoying my music. At the corner of Carlton and Ontario I see a woman cresting high on a snowbank (CityTV told us the snow would be gone by noon!). She had just ascended the street side of a particularly high bank and was looking quite unsteady at the apex of the mound.
I only saw her rise up over the snowbank out of the corner of my eye. Instantly I think “I should help her!” and raise my hand to assist as I get within a few feet of her.
That’s when I noticed the wig.
And the muscular legs coming out of the skirt.
And the square jaw with the 5 o’clock shadow. Adams apple. Check.
I got her down, after stifling a cartoon double take, of course.
Icy Robot
And Clean Up is a Breeze!
Partaay for SharkBoy on Saturday to replace our MIA New Years party and to celebrate his entrance into one of Toronto’s largest unions. We’re in clover for the rest of our natural lives!
The cat was the belle of the ball. When George Hamilton jumped up into the condo tree, flashbulbs went off like Britney flashing cooter. “That’s so adorable!” the party cooed! Normlr’s “Q” discovered that you never rub GH’s stomach no matter how much he “presents” it. Other party-goers marveled at Photobooth, the filter fun of our iMac’s iSight cam. Some just drank to excess.
Watch the slide show or head on over to the album.
Pikchurs
Just some Phlikr phewtews. Get them before Microsoft stamps their logo all over them.
Subjective
Last night, in my stand up comedy writing class, I invoked the name of Buck Angel. Nobody knew who he was and I bet some of you don’t either. He’s a female-to-male transsexual porn star who has had his/her breasts removed, but his (?) vagina still remains. (Google him. I’m writing at work and he’s NSFW)
I described him like this:
Hand at forehead.
“He looks like a biker: muscular, shaved head, goatee, hairy chest. So biker, biker biker…”
I move my hand down my torso.
“Biker biker biker…”
My hand gets to my pelvis.
(high voice) “… Cooter…”
Hand at mid thigh.
“…biker biker biker.”
It got a laugh. But the teacher thought the word “cooter” was too Southern Baptist and may not read on an audience. What I find funny is that she’s a woman who finds the word “cunt” funny but not “cooter”. Comedy can be so subjective.
When I first heard “cooter” I took the word in an tussled it’s spunky hair like an errant nephew. I was in love. I started to use it whenever I could:
“Lord. That lasagna looks like a cooter!”
Or even made it my own gender:
“When I sit, I have a pain in my man-cooter.”
To the point of nonsense:
“Hey see that Gas station over there? I think we need to fill up and cooter the windscreen!”
I’m going to keep it in the bit. I can only try, right?