Category: Hot Slut of the Day

Hot Slut Of The Day!

November 27, 2014 / Posted by:

Tom Turkey from 1983′s A Thanksgiving Tale!

Christmas specials are a dime a dozen and there’s TOO many of them, but Thanksgiving specials are as rare as a reasonable thought out of Lindsay Lohan’s mouth or as rare as a Grindr trick who tells the truth about his real dick size (yes, always bring a tape measure with you to every hook-up to make sure). A Thanksgiving Tale is one of the only Thanksgiving specials I remember watching as a kid.

Paul Fusco, who brought us ALF, created and produced A Thanksgiving Tale which first aired on Showtime in 1983. As a kid, a cat must’ve held Paul’s entire family hostage and tortured their asses, because he obviously hates cats. ALF was a major pussy eater and in A Thanksgiving Tale, New Jersey cats befriend a dumbass turkey just so they can cook and eat him for Thanksgiving.

Tom Turkey is a bird-brained Thespian turkey who is trying to get to NYC to live out his dream of being a stage star. But he’s obviously got shit for brains, because when the bus driver screams “Newark,” Tom thinks he screamed, “New York.” Tom gets off at Newark and meets a group of starving, raggedy, janky cats who give him shelter from the cold. Tom thinks they’re kind of heart, but of course, those starving pussies are tricking that turkey and are fattening him up to eat him on Thanksgiving. Tom is just off the bus in more ways than one, because everybody knows you shouldn’t trust cats in denim caps and vests.

The dogs living in the alley outside of the cat’s lair find out what those shady pussies are pulling and vow to save Tom Turkey, because dogs are good and cats are bad. To make a short story even shorter, the cats and dogs scrap in the alley before Tom Turkey breaks it up. Tom saves the day and brings them all together by suggesting that the dogs move in with the cats, because the cats have shelter and the dogs have food. They put on a play, because after all Tom is a wannabe actor, so he’s an attention whore and has to make it all about him.

But in real life, we know how that scene would play out. The dogs and cats would tear Tom’s turkey ass apart while trying to eat him at the same time. No, no, no, it’s a beautiful story with a beautiful happy ending. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle! It’s also a Thanksgiving miracle that I found this masterpiece on YouTube.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! See you in the ER after our stomachs explode from filling it with booze, booze, booze, booze and maybe some turkey and stuff.

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Hot Slut Of The Day!

November 26, 2014 / Posted by:

Whistle Pops!

Whistle Pops (and Chupa Chups Melody Pops) came from the 80s and 90s, but they still exist today, which is surprising since you’d think that the government would have declared them weapons of mass destruction and destroyed them all. Whistle Pops are exactly what they look like. They’re lollipops that make sound. We know that Lucifer is alive and well and walks amongst us on earth, because he obviously created these dark-sided tools of torture to fuck with the nerves of parents and drive them over the edge.

I haven’t blown one of these in years (I can say that about a lot of things, I know), but I remember it sounding worse than JLo’s live singing voice and spit collected on the inside of it. It became a corn syrup and kid spit lollipop real quick. But it still brought minutes and minutes of entertainment. It was also the perfect parent repellant. As soon as you started playing it, your parents would pack up all their shit, leave you $15 for a pizza, throw their shit in the car, back up out of the driveway and drive like they were Thelma & Louise heading for Mexico. By the time you were done playing your Whistle Pop, you’d be an orphan and your parents would be listening to the sound of beautiful silence far, far away.

You should really get a Whistle Pop before going to your family’s house for Thanksgiving. If they say any shit you’re not into, just pull out your Whistle Pop and blow until they disappear.

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November 25, 2014 / Posted by:

Ninita, the baby pygmy marmoset from the Rare Special Conservative Foundation who becomes you sitting in a massage chair in the front of Brookstone when he gets a massage from an old, used, janky toothbrush.

This video is a few days old, but there’s no an expiration date on videos of baby pygmy marmosets getting their nerves soothed by a busted toothbrush. Nobody has ever felt relaxation the way this baby pygmy marmoset has felt relaxation. When you’ve just busted an orgasm and you’re lying in a Calgon bath with a bottle of red wine and a fully stocked bong next to you, and an Enya song plays in the background as your nose inhales the relaxing scent wafting off of a Relaxing Zen Glade candle, you might think to yourself, “I’ve reached the pinnacle of relaxation.” Nope, no you haven’t. This baby pygmy marmoset has reached the pinnacle of relaxation.

Ninita is like a living, breathing P.M. Dawn song. He’s set adrift on a memory bliss.

via Cute Overload

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Hot Slut Of The Day!

November 24, 2014 / Posted by:

Bleona, the Madonna of Albania and the bright spot of sheer elegance at last night’s dreadful American Music Awards!

I’ve been meaning to write about this demure, graceful and rational Albanian blossom ever since I started watching Bravo’s newest staged reality train wreck Euros of Hollywood. If you’ve never seen that mess, you’re probably looking at the title with question mark eyes while wondering what’s it about. I know, Bravo is always so unclear with their titles. Euros of Hollywood is about Euros of Hollywood.

The dudes on Euros of Hollywood are hot, buff, tacky and dumb (just the way we all like ‘em!), but the main reason to watch that trash pile of messiness is for BLEONA! Bleona is like a character that Maya Rudolph would’ve created on SNL. She’s train wreck perfection. She’s as delusional as she is unapologetically bitchy. She’s as sarcastic as she is glamorous. She’s a rhinestone-encrusted disaster and she breaths life into me every time she cuts those other whores with her words of sarcasm.

Bleona tells us at least once an episode that she’s the Madonna of Albania and sells out stadiums in her country. She said (and I’m paraphrasing) that nearly 1 in 3 Albanians have a poster of her hanging on their wall. Bleona’s talent, beauty and glamour is much too big for Albania, so she came to the US a few years ago to conquer the states! But because in America we like our pop stars bland, basic, boring and strangely doll-like (see: Selena, Ariana Grande Latte and Swifty), Bleona hasn’t taken over the charts and she probably couldn’t sell out a free concert in a party space at a small park. If you ask anybody if they know who Bleona is, they’ll probably say, “Yes, of course, it’s delicious with mayo and Wonder Bread.”

But I have a feeling all that is about to change thanks to last night. Bleona, who kind of looks like a second tier Angelina Jolie impersonator circa 1998, shot into the American Music Awards like a fishnetted sparkly star of demure sophistication. She looked like Rose McGowan’s backwash mixed with the inside of Miley Cyrus’ laundry hamper. Bleona proves that the most original way to get attention is to do something that dozens have done before.

If you’re still not sold on Bleona, this will sell you. Here’s what Bleona drives:

bleonagoldporsche

A vehicle that’s as understated and classy as its driver. She’s a 14k gold-covered Angelyne. Don’t be too surprised in a few years when Madonna is on an Albanian reality show called Americans of Albania and says, “I am the Bleona of the US. Or I was the Bleona of the US until the real Bleona took over!”

Pics: Wenn.com, Unique Auto Films

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November 23, 2014 / Posted by:

ATC, the international pop group from the 90s and early 00s who took you around the world and filled your ears with a whole lot of Vitamin C (C for class)!

Tonight is the American Music Awards (aka the unpopular, black sheep third cousin of the Grammys who nobody talks to at family reunions because they smell like desperation and mustiness) and while going through the dreadful lineup of dreadful pop hos (see: Selena Gomez, 5 Seconds of Summer, Ariana Grande Latte, One Direction, etc… etc…) who will poop out their dreadful pop songs during the show, I asked myself whatever happened to true musical talent in the pop music world? Whatever happened to talent like ATC?

ATC was a German-based pop group made up of a Kiwi, an Italian, an Australian and a Brit. They were the accidental toilet baby of the It’s A Small World ride and Aqua. They had a couple of semi-hits, but their biggest hit was the 2000 eardrum assault called “Around The World (La La La La La).”Around The World” was a cover of a Russian pop song and it sounded like something Eiffel 65 barfed up. That song was everywhere. It was even in commercials. You know you danced to it on a box under a strobe light at an 18 and over club.

Once it got in your head, it was hard to get out. Whenever I get my usual check-up at the free clinic, the free clinic doctor looks into my ears with that ear dildo thing and asks, “What is that crusty white stuff clinging to the walls of your ears? Jizz?” And I always say, “No doctor, it’s pieces from that La La La La song which have been there for years.

ATC broke up in 2003, but they will forever and ever live on thanks to this Euro ear worm:

FYI: ATC stands for A Touch Of Class. If you didn’t already know that, you probably figured it out after looking at that gorgeous Siegfried & Roy plushie heaven of a picture.

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November 22, 2014 / Posted by:

The rebooted Puppy Surprise!

Yes, the world is a shitty, gross place where shitty, gross things happen all the time, but sometimes magical good things happen. Case in point: The triumphant comeback of Puppy Surprise! Puppy Surprise has risen from the ashes like a cotton candy-haired, knocked up phoenix. Puppy Surprise (and Kitty Surprise and Bunny Surprise and Pony Surprise) were put down by Hasbro in 1993 after only two years on the shelves. But this past summer, toy company Just Play brought Puppy Surprise back from the dead and gave it a second chance at ruling the toy scene. Because everyone loves a knocked up, pink-haired raver puppy whose got a plushie gut full of raver puppies, Puppy Surprise has been a huge hit and they can’t keep up with the demand.

Charlie Embry, one of the founders of Just Play, tells Bloomberg Businessweek that they stopped showing the commercial on TV, because people can’t get enough of that weird ass mommy puppy whose hair obviously needs a date with a tube of Vo5 hot oil treatment. Just Play also makes Care Bears and in the four years they’ve been in business, they’ made $160 million in overall sales.

Just Play pretty much kept Puppy Surprise the same. Kids still give her a c-section by opening up her stomach and they still don’t know how many puppies she’s knocked with. The puppies are all different shapes, sizes and colors. So kids will still get to experience that feeling of rage and wanting to call the authorities when they perform a C-section on their dog and only 3 puppies are in there. Ripped off! Just Play did add something new. The puppies with rubber faces are “born” with closed eyes. You can open their eyes by dipping them in cold water. I’m guessing the rubber-faced puppies are plastered on the sweet nectar, because splashing my face with cold water is what my friends and family members do to me when I’m passed out drunk and they want me to open up my eyes.

Puppy Surprise has a new commercial (which you can watch here), but I’ve thrown up the old one, because it’s better. This is how some kids learned about reproduction. They were probably so confused years later when they went into labor and the doctor didn’t deliver their baby by pulling open their velcro’d stomach.

All hail Just Play! They’re the Misty Day of the toy world and are bringing pieces from our childhoods back to life. I wonder if they take requests, because I’ve got a never-ending list that starts with Fireball Island.

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November 21, 2014 / Posted by:

The Saskatchewan Grampa Simpson who screams at snowflakes, punches the cold wind and only gets warmth from screaming and ranting about a morning show host calling the ugly, nasty, butthole-freezing weather “nice.”

Winter is real and winter has come early. I mean, it’s even winter in California. I had to wear socks with my flip flops and a light sweater over a tank top and Speedos to go to Smart & Final to buy pink wine and caramel corn. You know it’s serious when you have to wear socks with your flip flops. In other parts of the country and Canada, it’s a real shit show and it looks like Nicole Kidman’s toilet after she poops out an icy bowel movement. It’s like living in Queen Elsa’s queef. Allison has to type out all her posts with a stick because she’s wearing 10 pairs of mittens. (Yes, I pay her in walnut shells and lube coupons, so she cannot afford heat!)

It’s so cold in the C and the last thing some Canadians want to hear is how “nice” the weather is, because that frozen shit is only “nice” to Snow Miser and polar bears. When Sheila Coles, the radio host of CBC Saskatchewan’s Morning Edition said that the weekend’s weather was going to be “nice,” one Canadian hero lost it and left her a voicemail where he let her know that there’s nothing “nice” about the early polar vortex fucking everyone in the ass. Dude let out a beautiful, glorious, curse-filled Canadian rant about the disgusting weather and when he said “howl,” I howled. When he said, “This province is the asshole of the world and will suck the life outta ya,” I got life several times. This guy gets so hot that his rage almost melted the shell of ice that his b-hole is encased in.

It gets better toward the end, okay. He spits out a conspiracy theory that is definitely 100% true, okay. He lets it be known that he’s got those hussies’ number, okay. He thinks that the CBC radio hosts are only saying the weather is going to be “nice,” because the government doesn’t want people to off themselves over the cold ass weather. If they offed themselves, how would they pay those crazy, freakin’ taxes?

How can I become a citizen of Canada so I can nominate this dude for President of EVERYTHING?

This King of Keeping It Real’s poetic rant auto-plays, so I’ve put it behind a cut. It needs to be Canada’s new anthem.

»

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November 20, 2014 / Posted by:

This golden retriever from Finland who knows the right way to run an obedience course! 

At the 0:50 mark in the video below, a golden retriever shows us and the other dogs how a dumb obedience course is really done. If you ask me, the dogs who ran the course the way the humans think it should be ran are doing it wrong and have lost. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would you run by those bowls of food and those toys? The day my chihuahua runs by a bowl full of food without stopping to gobble it all up is the day I know that something is terribly, terribly wrong with his ass and I need to rush him to the doggy ER immediately.

This golden retriever gets it. Screw the commands from humans and screw that competition. Get that food in your belly as fast as possible and play with all the toys. You can’t eat a stupid title, so get that food! All those other dogs lost and the golden retriever clearly won every gold medal in the Common Sense Olympics. Doggy life is too short to not nom nom and play play.

That dog my hero. Doggy doesn’t care what Referee Putin thinks. Doggy’s going to get fed.

via HuffPo

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November 18, 2014 / Posted by:

Zandar from the 90s board game Ask Zandar!

Zandar was Dumbledore’s fourth cousin who lacked the majestic skills of his relatives, so he had to settle for a gig as a janky, bottom tier future teller in a 1993 children’s board game. Zandar had the SLYIC skills of Miss Cleo’s dried dingle. You didn’t even get to ask him original questions. Each player picked two cards and on each card was a question. You chose which question to ask Zandar and then guessed if he would say yes or no. If your guess matched Zandar’s answer, then you got a “gemstone.” The first player with 5 of those busted gemstones won the game and got a special reading from Zandar.

The special reading from Zandar was also a damn joke. You’d wave a disc with a question on it in front of him and he’d say some canned crap like, “You’re going to get a call about this!” I bet the phone did ring each time and I bet it was a call from Dionne Warwick’s network of physics. Those two schemers were working together.

Ask Zandar taught you one thing: Never trust a wizard with a voice like a parrot doing a Groucho Marx impersonation.

Dumbass Zandar. He was totally the Long Island Medium’s mentor.

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November 17, 2014 / Posted by:

Chinese pop group Wang Rong Rollin’s music video for “Chick Chick”!

Every now and again, China has to let the world know that Japan isn’t the only Asian country that can produce technicolor fuckery of the highest degree. If you’ve ever wondered what kind of hallucinations would appear around you if you dropped acid while playing See ‘N Say Farmer Says, your answer is this beautiful mess of a video. It is filled with more WTFs than Lifetime’s Aaliyah biopic and has given me more life than the #LifetimeBiopics hashtag on Twitter. It’s fuckery food for your brain and its ingredients include 2 cups of feathers from a swan on Ecstasy, 1 heaping tablespoon of cartoon hen tits, a drop of Trace Cyrus’ jizz, a sprinkling of Gangnam Style, a dash of Phoebe Price’s orgasm sounds and 4 teaspoons of George Orwell’s trippiest shroom trip.

Starting your Monday with a video that’s a cross between an Old MacDonald gay twink parody porn and a fever dream from an Andy Warhol knock-off artist is not a bad way to start your Monday.

Even the fox looked at that and said, “The fuck?” We shouldn’t be surprised that magical things come from a pop group called Wang Rong Rollin.

via Neatorama (For Monika, Kevin and Andrea)

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