I know you probably think that I report the important news affecting our world today from a wood-paneled office while wearing a three-piece suit and freshly polished wing-tips. But the ugly truth is I make the blog donuts from a broke down West Elm table while wearing sweats and a t-shirt thin enough for me to use the ends to floss the jerky bits out of my teeth. I am lucky.
However, it is a pain in the asshole whenever I have to put on outside clothes to go to the corner store to buy more beef jerky. But thanks to the genius makers of the Pajama Jeans, I don’t ever have to strain myself by putting on real pants AGAIN! The Pajama Jeans are pajama bottoms that look just like a pair of fancy jeans from the European designer section at a fine department store. It’s a mirage!
This shit should be called Life Changing PJeans! They take you from day to night and back to night again. These are the only bottoms you’ll ever need in your life. Well, almost the only bottom you’ll ever need. You still need this bottom, because you do have to watch American Idol twice a week.
If you answered “yes” to that question then your name is probably Gene Wilder. Well Gene, whip out the Orange-Glo and lube your genitals up, because word on the internet is that a naked video of Jersey Shore’s Snooki is up for sale.
Radar says that in addition to a video, there’s also pictures of Snooki’s tangerine titties and butterscotch pudding pot making the rounds. Snooki took the pictures and video herself, but she’s not the one peddling them to the highest bidder (uh huh). Radar, who claims to have seen the pictures, says that one demure photo shows Snooki “in her bedroom, on her knees, with one hand on the ground and the other holding the rail of the bed frame. She is looking at the camera with her head tilted slightly.” That sounds like some
Alley Cat on a Hot Tin Roof shit.
Isn’t this absolutely the shock of all shocks? Snooki is so refined and ladylike on the show. I mean, she puts her hand over her vagina before she queefs.
But seriously, even though we’ve never seen Snooks fully nekkid ass nekkid, I still feel like I’ve seen everything but her damn uterus. It’s like if I got an e-mail with the subject: Kirstie Alley Sloshing. My dead-wrong imagination has already painted that horrific picture in my head, so there’s no need for me to open it. I already know how it’s going to make me feel (SPOILER ALERT: like this).
It’s been a while since I’ve posted a henpecking fight on The View, so here’s one from this morning. Hasselcrack, Whoopi and Joy argued about where the 9/11 terrorist trial should be held. Hasselcrack thinks that it should take place at a Survivor tribal council (or something like that). You know, I have to agree with her on this one, because it’s not an official decision until Jeff Probst announces it.
That being said, it’s hard for me to completely focus on what Hasselcrack is squawking about when she’s wearing a toddler’s clown dress that would look much better on Raggedy Anne.
Because this picture of Prince Hot Ginge singeing eyeballs with his fiery nipples in Barbados this past weekend is worth a thousand headlines (and ass orgasms). If Mop Head’s voodoo curse on me suddenly worked and I dropped dead right now, I’d be okay with that because this beautiful picture of PHG would be the last thing I’d see. Actually, these dumb words I’m typing would be the last thing I’d see. Fuck. Mop Head is always ruining things!
I leave you now, because I’m a little distracted. My heat-seeking tongue keeps wanting to lick the monitor. And yes, I’ve already Photoshopped my head on that pepaw’s body in the first thumbnail below. It’s going to be my new drivers license photo.
The Chicago Sun-Times is hearing that Baby Jesus has grown tired of the scent of Gold Bond and bone dust violating his nostrils, so he has packed up all his worldly possessions (aka nothing) and gone back to his manger.
Apparently, Baby Jesus barely realized that he has nothing in common with Vadge and the 200-year age difference between them is an issue. Basically, Baby Jesus finally got the faulty light switch in his head fixed.
The source-type also said that the break-up between Madonna and child was completely amicable. The truth is, Baby Jesus was getting a little too old for Vadge. I mean, he is starting to form complete sentences and is now able to go to #1 on his own. That’s a problem.
So parents, lock up your babies because Vadge is back on the prowl!
Happy Groundhog Day! Or should I say, Happy KICK A Groundhog Day, because ugly ass Punxsutawney Phil crawled out of his ugly ass house this morning and saw his ugly ass shadow. This means that you will be jizzing icicles and farting up frost for the next six weeks.
The graveyard-shift prostitutes of America need to direct their hate towards Phil, because he’s the sole reason why they will continue to get frostbite on their nipples while sucking peen in a back alley. It’s Phil’s fault!
To be fair to Phil, he must be filled with stress from hos bothering his ass every year about this shadow thing. It’s high time that he retires somewhere warm and zen-like where he can chant freely and find his chi. I hear Richard Gere’s colon is lovely year-round. Maybe those crazies at Peta have the right idea after all.