Jethro Tull Tuesday

Sometimes you get really drunk at a bar and decide to hit on members of the opposite sex who are way out of your league.

Sometimes you get really, really drunk at a bar and decide to do cocaine off a toilet seat.

Sometimes you get really, really, really drunk at a bar and decide to have a six person sex party and huff a bunch of rags soaked in gasoline while calling your mom on the phone.

Sometimes you get really, really, really, really drunk at a bar and decide to murder the bartender, eat his intestines and proclaim yourself the Prince of Mars.

Sometimes you get really, really, really, really, really drunk at a bar and decide to try the fish sandwich.

Then sometimes you get really, really, really, really, really, really drunk at a bar and decide to write "Jethro Tull" on the wall.


Shame on you people.

It's Monday and My Pederast Mustache is Coming in Nicely

Every once in a while amongst the gibberish and scrawl I come across an interesting drawing. I like this one because not only did it take the artist a bit to draw, he (it was in a men's room) took time to actually doodle in the Pederast/Mexi-stache.

Well done sir.

Growing up I went to school with a kid that had this kind of weird, wispy mustache. I think he got it around 10. Not kidding. This kid was already creepy without it. He didn't need anything else to vault him into the category of potential future pedophile, but sure as shit his velveteen lip buddy took him there. When I graduated and he got held back a year, his 'stache looked the same as it had when we were 10.

I'm pretty sure he now hangs out around playgrounds, cotton candy machines and free pony rides. It's weird to think about having gone to school with a sex offender. Could I have stopped him? What if I did slam his dick in his desk? If I wasn't such and asshole and always making fun of his mustache, would he have turned out to be a normal person instead of somebody's creepy Uncle that you're not allowed to hang out with alone?

Eh. So it goes.

A Good Ole Fashioned Friday Tit Ramble

The second weekend of the week is upon us. Can't remember the last time a holiday fell in the middle of the week, had the day off and then had to come back to work for two days. Odd.

Okay, I love a good tit. I don't know if there are many people out there who can't appreciate one or two. Gay, straight, from Zimbabwe, I don't know anybody who doesn't either love tits or can't at least say, "well those are nice," "oh look, those are perky" or "i wish mine looked like that."

Unlike the male undercarriage, tits and the female body are more widely perceived as objects of beauty. Male bodies are generally hairy, disgusting piles of weirdness with objects that look like they were taped on by a drunk 3 year old with some crazy glue and a pair of scissors.

I think God spent millions of years crafting woman in his mind and when it came around to creating man, he just kinda handed this assignment off to his mentally challenged brother Gary. I don't know if I buy this whole rib from a man thing. I think God's trying to cover up Gary's failed attempt at creating a life form. This is also why Gary now works in the aquarium section at a Wal-Mart in El Paso.

This all said, breast feeding in public just creeps me out. Two weeks ago, I had to get some papers notarized. I went to my local UPS store, did the deed and walked out. When I did, I walked right into full bore tit action.

Don't believe me. Take a look below.

(Yes, I'm the creepy guy taking picture of the ladies of Louisville breastfeeding in public from a vehicle that looks like it just fell out of a rape cave.)

Now image seeing this from about 2 feet away.

Freaked my shit out.

Do you look? Do you ignore it? Do you ask for the leftovers? What is the right thing to do in this situation? 


This happened to me once before at a party. Hanging out in a friend's backyard, a guest I didn't know, just took a titty out. I mean just wham, bam, OUT! Then she proceeded to cover it up 15 to 20 seconds later with a Hooter Hider. Well, what's the fucking point? We've all seen your milk engorged boob now?


My real question is, who does this? Who just pops a titty out in public to feed a child? If you didn't have a child, you'd never just whip out a tit unless Girls Gone Wild or beads are involved. What makes breast feeding in public, while not covering up, okay?

Anybody?

Total Piss Recon

I have no idea what the hell this is about.

Is there somebody out there scooping urine out of unflushed toilets and selling it on the black market?

How are they getting it out of bars?

Was this a drug fueled mission?

Please somebody help me make sense of this.

Reader Submission Wednesday—Fecal Scrawl Y'all

Well it's Wednesday and since I've been too lazy to write anything on my own this week, I'm depending on my readers again for a launching point.

This week's submission comes from Susan Arterburn (aka Afterburn). 

Here's what she's got to say about her photo, "I'm not sure if this is a warning of the end of the earth or if this bathroom in the middle of Alabama is actually a time machine but I'm pretty sure we haven't experienced 12-27-12." 

Either side of the coin is scary for me to think about. 

If Alabamians have a time machine I'm pissed. But it's Alabama, so the chances of this happening are about as plausible as Orville Redenbacher's corpse popping out of the grave, popping over to my house and popping me a fresh stove top batch of popcorn.

If it is a warning about the end of the earth, well then the Mayans have some competition. 

The Mayans only created language, art, modern farming, architecture and mathematical and astronomic systems.

Alabama has given us, toothlessness, joblessness, the National Museum of the Bucktoothed, inbred children whose mouths are where their noses should be and their noses where their mouths should be, obesity, poverty, trailer parks, sweltering heat, racism and the nympho I dated when I was 16. (I had no idea what to do with her and after freaking out from being handcuffed to a bed when her parents weren't home one day, I ended that. Dumb at the time but probably for the best. Otherwise, I'd have a 19 year old today, less teeth and would be constantly screaming, "shut the got dang trailer door Alicia Daigle".)

So. Do we believe this toilet stall is a time machine? Or do we believe this is the date for the end of the world as surmised by some backwoods Nostradamus?

Reader Submission Wednesday—Structured Education is for Slackers Who Don't Have Library Cards

Today's submission comes from Teresa Lasky via Kristen Poncek.

I'm excited. As this is the first reader submission Wednesday in a while. Anyway, here's the scoop on the photos and Teresea.

Pictures taken at:

Reggies Rock Club 

Chicago, IL 

reggieslive.com

Pictures taken by:

Teresa Lasky (my random college roommate, turned best friend)

A few fun facts about Teresa:

- likes to eat Kit Kats in a corn on the cob style fashion

- once stole wishes from a fountain to use for laundry money

- had a family pet for a few months, a raccoon named Paco, that Teresa despised. She let it escape and it died in her sister's car engine later that morning. Her family never forgave her. They now have a shrine to Paco in their bathroom (picture attached).

I could't make this shit up if I tried.

KP

Here's the shrine to Paco:

Detox the Ghetto

Well this is the last thing that the ghetto needs, right?

Just legalize crack already.

Get Help!

Whenever I take these photos I have no idea what I'm going to ultimately write about them. Sometimes I sit down and plan these posts out. But more often than not, I just fucking wing these things with random thoughts. The idea of me wanting to fuck me is just about as random of a thought as I can think of.

So let's get to it.

If you could fuck yourself would you?

As a heterosexual male, this is a weird question to me.

First, if I did decide to fuck myself, does this suddenly mean I'm no long a heterosexual? Or am I fucking myself because I'm on my own "switch list"? Or is this an exception?

If you're really narcissistic, you could be really into yourself. Maybe you come home one day and there's this other you in your house. He's made you a brick oven pizza, poured you a La Fin Du Monde, has Sportscenter on in the background and the Beastie Boys blaring. He sits you down. Tells you how nice your calves look in running shorts. Says, "Wow, you look really tired from mowing the lawn. Maybe you should just go lie down."

Next thing you know, there's chaffing, askew sheets and the sounds of a Cubs bottom of the 9th, 2 out, homerun being called by Harry Carey buzzing in the air.

If you're self-loathing, you fucking you is probably the worst idea. You come home, there's another you in your house. He's made you brussel sprouts, poured you a Corona, has "Say Yes to the Dress" on blaring loudly overtop of Fiona Apple's devil-monkey screeching. He sits you down, says you're a failure and need to lose weight. Says your car is a piece of shit and punches you right in the dick.

Next thing you know, there's chaffing, bleeding, a ball gag and a Sam Kinison machine gun fire of  insults being flung at you.

Other things factor into this equation.

Is this a one night stand? Do you have to rollover and look at yourself in the eye the next morning? If there's a walk of shame where does the other "you" walk to?

Do you want a long term relationship with "you"? I mean sure you get to share your closet. You'll save money on buying music from Amazon. But everyday, you have to come home to yourself.

Is this what having a twin is like?

Mexi-stache Friday

It's Friday and if I make it through this day without a shotgun and a full gunny sack—it will be a major achievement.

Anywooooo, enough about me.

Going to try to start posting a few more "Art" pieces on Fridays. Here's the first, (and knowing my posting record, the last.)

Doesn't do much for me. But I love the Mexi-stache he's sporting.

Speaking of Mexi-staches, why the hell can't "Mexicans" shave these? They are fucking gross. Are these the mullets of hispanic culture. I guess when they're eating pink tacos behind the dumpster at K-Mart, all the textures tend to blend together? Oh, did I mention it's racist Friday?

Enjoy your weekend.

Bags of Shit

The most impressive thing to me about this photo is the literal bag of shit with stink lines coming off it.

Nice.

Also Keith Raines, it looks like your brother has piss poor taste in the things he puts his dick in or dick bone, per the drawing.