Hey, I've got rocket power!
Those inscrutable Japs are testing a new product. Called
"Ramen Rift-Off!", it's designed to provide propellant poop-chute power to your arse. Consume the product and in effect, you become...a rocket. Now you can
get to work on time without all those pesky traffic tie-ups.
Special packets of
Top Ramen Noodles give your lower GI that "time for me to fly feeling."
In these times of exhorbitant gas prices, it's nice to know someone's looking out for us little guys.
Hey oil companies: buff my scrotum!
Hey kids! Get your condoms here!
Benoit...balls!
What a
complete douchebag. This idiot wrestler,
Chris Benoit; turns out he
strangled his wife, smothered his son, and then hung himself. That's bad enough. Funny, though, all the
comments from toothless neckless redneck wrestling fans on the blogs and message boards: "God bless, Chris, we know you're in heaven now" and "Let the Lord carry you, Chris" and assorted other bullshit, much of it mis-spelled (surprise!). Here's another:
"To my dearest family, some things I'd like to say...
but first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay.
I'm writing this from heaven. Here I dwell with God above.
Here, there's no more tears of sadness; here is just eternal love."
What a crock! This asshole killed his 7 year old son and strangled his wife!!
More proof the world is coming to an end.
A wedding, this weekend
I have to go to a goddamm wedding this weekend. Talk about depressing. And all the complaining, kvetching, griping, nagging, browbeating load of B.S will be bestowed upon
my poor friend Alan, who doesn't know what he's in for. Yesterday
he told me that he didn't find her attractive, and was worried about it. A bit late for that, buddy!
Best of luck in hell and I'll leave the light on in the guest room for ya.
Thanks a pantload
I do the arts and crafts myself, at home. You know, knitting, macrame, and the like. It's a side of me that's more, well...
sensitive, and goddammit I like being known as a sensitive fucker. Yupper.
Prick patch: um, no thanks
From an
e-mail I just received: With Penis Enlarge Patch your penis will bulge like a soccer ball.Is this a good thing? Do I want
my John Thomas all round and leathery? Plus, what's with the "patch" part of it? Wouldn't it would
hurt like hell sewing it on?I'm so confused about what women want these days, I swear. That's me, above right, in my 'not so sure what to do next' mode.
Larry King interviews Paris Hilton
So
Larry King (at left) gets the "get" this Wednesday:
he's interviewing Paris Hilton. Being the first-out-of-jail interview with the
heiress and slut (right) was a big competitive thing in the journalistic world.
Larry's a good choice for the interview because, according to him,
he does no preparation of any kind.
Plus, he's starting to exhibit signs of senility.It'll go something like this:
Larry: Our guest tonight is Paris Hilton, recently released from jail. This is her first interview. Hello, ParisParis: Hi Larry
Larry: What's it like being named after a hotel? I mean, there really is a Hilton hotel in Paris, right? (ed note: hotel photo, left) And when I call the front desk there, they answer: "Hello, Paris Hilton, may I help you?"Paris: Um...Larry: But they do it in French, right? So I'm guessing mostly they're going to say "Bonjour, Hilton du Paree, v
ous êtes un mangeur de smegma, n'est-ce pas ?".Paris: Um...Larry: Did your parents conceive you in Paris? If they'd conceived you in Prague then your name would be "Prague Hilton"? What a coincidence that there's hotel with your name everywhere all over the place so they could just add the city name and be done with it. It's like, how surprised was everyone when Lou Gehrig died from his own named disease? Lou Gehrig's disease?Paris: Um...Larry: Or do they just like Paris and France in general? What do you think of Maurice Chevalier? And that Catherine Deneuve, boy, she's got some gams, huh?Paris: Um...Larry: A
nd those French, they eat cheese that smells like people's feet. Do you eat smelly cheese? How often was cheese served to you in jail?Paris: Um...Larry: It's Paris Hilton, with us for the full hour tonight. We'll be right back--don't go away.
Tony Blair: "I wore the same shoes for 10 years"
ABC reports that soon-to-step down
British Prime Minister Tony Blair admitted he wore the same pair of shoes every time he faced
Prime Minister's Questions in Parliament. That's 10 years, same shoes. Blair at left,
shoes in question at right.
US President George W. Bush, on vacation in Crawford, Texas, commented: "Well, hell, so what? Anyone got a problem with that? I don't have a problem with that! Tony can wear whatever he wants around me! I for one wish he'd be Prime Minister forever. I love spending time with Tony-pony at Camp David. Plus he has nice legs." The President is
photographed at left on the main ranch road wearing fashionable
Donna Karen pumps and a
Victoria's Secret mini-skirt ensemble (click the photo to get a sexier close up view).
Nigel, the life of the party
Since apparently I'm in a vaginal kinda mood today, let me tell you what's really fucking
fun to do, particularly at wedding receptions.- Locate punch bowl
- Surreptitiously (if you're from Minnesota, this means "on the sly, without being caught") slip into it three unused Tampons with the strings hanging over the side of the bowl
- Let the hijinks ensue!
Juvenile? Sure! But weddings are depressing as hell, so anything you can do to lighten up the mood is a good thing. At least, that's what I'm thinkin'....
A purrrrfect gift for your upcoming anniversary!
Stumped about
what to get that special someone? Or maybe you'd like a conversation piece for the coffee table--something other than a book, perhaps? Thinking out of the box? How about thinking about
the box itself? That's right, chums. The box...as in, "out of woman comes the man, spends the rest of his life getting back when he can."
Yes, that box. The pochwa, the minge, the black cat with the cut throat, the meat seat, the growler, the spasm chasm, the smurf burger, the hairy cyclops. The vachichi. The vagina.
According to
this web site, you too can own a
"Personal internal vagina cast in plaster on a wooden base" for just £500. For just £300 more, it'll be presented to you in
fashionable semi-transparent clear resin. Photo at left.
Whose vag is used for this, um, cast? Regardless, I'm impressed, as is the immortal deity
Ron Popeil who commented thusly:
"Oh, what a gift!"Aside: if I was the manufacturer of this thing, I'd
include some red LEDs that would
change the color of the cast each
month for about four days. But that's just me, thinking...out of the box. Ahem.
No cable, no Internet: oh no!
So I'm back from my trip and my
TV and Internet at home are both dead as doornails. Call the cable company,
Comcast, which provides both to me, on hold for the rest of the night, hang up, try again this morning. Finally get through after waiting, waiting, waiting. Tell my tale of woe to Shaniquia or Laquishia or Chlorineia or whatever her name is. She goes: "Well, Mr. Howle-Raines, I'd love to help you but
our system is down so let me get your number and I'll call you back."
Their
system is down. Confidence inspiring and just a bit ironic, don't you agree?
Butt blasting banned in Berkeley
Hello mums and dads...I'm back from Orlando after a long drive and with, admittedly, just a wee touch of the body pong. Sad to report, feeling a
bit overdone and not as scrubbed up as I normally am, though in truth it's hard to get at all the nooks and crannies when you're a fat piece of shit like me.
But that's another tale for another time.
However, it does relate to this story from Berkeley, Californ-eye-aye, to wit: the City Council has gotten around to passing an
ordinance banning certain kinds of street behavior because, quoting now: "
some say (the behavior) makes Berkeley's streets
inhospitable to residents and visitors alike." Among the behaviors to be banned:
public defecation.Now, who would disagree with the "some say" people when it comes to public letting-the-feces-fly? Who thinks that maybe that's ok? Apparently some do, because otherwise the story would say that "everyone agrees" that
backing the big brown Cadillac out of the garage, right out in the open, is a bad thing.
Or am I wrong? Not sure. Hold on, back in a jiff, I'm just going outside to
free Nelson Mandela right there on the footpath outside the funeral home.
Atlantis blasts off; so do I, mess is made
This is the one thing of a
technological nature that gives me a complete knob ache. Atlantis blasted off tonight and seriously, with 10 seconds to go, I was flyin'. I love the whole
NASA thing and can report that absent Cialis, it's the only thing that makes little Nigel stand up and take a look around. I could be made happier only if there was some kind of
"babes of nasa.com" site you could go to where you could vote "hot or not or maybe radioactive" to the chick astronauts cute little photos taken in tight blue jump suits.
But wait! There absolutely
is a
babes of nasa site.
Pants tightening occurring as we speak.
I'm sick, I know that.
A new children's book has arrived!
This is one I'm
buying for my 4 year old nephew. He loves the outdoors. He does NOT take after me in that regard: I can't stand woods or trees or anything outside.
Hungover, again
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOhhhh my aching head. I should know better but then again I'm just a
helpless drunk, captive to my addiction and held hostage by my disease (such bullshit....
I just like to drink. A real LOT)!
So last night I closed down my local (left, specializing in Heileman's Old Style and crack whores with no teeth) and got to bed sometime around 1am knowing full well
I had to get up at 5:30 and deal with the chemicals guy making early morning funeral home rounds. Why the
Aardbalm sales guy's gotta meet me at 7am, I don't know.
I have a headache the size of Idaho.
Lysol helps with the pantie pong?
Apparently
Lysol has
changed its, um, focus since back in the day, back when the product was designed for what the ad at left is all about. See,
now you use it for cleaning the kitchen and disinfecting the bathroom...but b
ack then, its powers of purity were used for a whole 'nutha reason.
I mean, who knew that
Lysol was the solution for that
"not so fresh feeling?"Click on the image. Make sure you
read all the text, too, shlubbies, so as to learn about this alleged
happiness of married love -- whatever the fuck that is.
Who are all these damned people on MTV?
Of all the celebrities in
Yahoo's photo gallery from last night's
MTV Movie Awards -- I only know who
8 of the 26 people are. Most of those I know vaguely, by name only. Like
Jessica Biel. Wasn't she in
Flashdance? Others of the 8 I know because I accidentally ran across some of their "work". Like this
Dane Cook, who had a TV series called "Tourgasm". This guy apparently
thinks he's pretty funny, when in fact
he sucks the pus oozing hose. I really like
Samuel L. Jackson, though. He's the baddest of the
baddass baddasses.
There are a bunch I don't know. Of these,
Eva Mendes (at right) caught my eye (and my underwear), plus she's Latina which makes my blood boil. Grrrrr.
Among the rest?
- Jay-Z: does music I'm led to believe. Could be named Fuk-U for all I care.
- Fergie: wasn't she a British princess with Diana? Didn't she do Prince Charles? Or was it with the other brother?
- Mandy Moore: Dudley Moore's niece? Roger Moore's daughter? Who knows?
- John Krasinski: nephew of the Unabomber? Could be? Who's arguing?
- Lauren Conrad: High on the wankability scale. Has pants tightening potential.
- Rihanna: inspiration for that Fleetwood Mac song. You know the one: "Don't Stop".
Boy, am I ever out of touch.
Here's a tip for the "Barista"
A rant about
coffee houses and the twerps working therein.
I
love how
Starbucks and Coffee Beanery and the like have taken
college drop-outs who, completely addled
without daddy's money paying for everything, now need some kind of a job--but nothing "beneath them", see, 'cause they've been raised to believe that every breath they take and every fart they make
is so bloody special. Smartly, coffee places get these
kids thinking they're some kind of
pseudo "professional" by hiring them on, providing a crisply starched apron, and bestowing upon them the grand-sounding job title of
"Barista".
Barista. From the Italian, meaning
"vainglorious narcissistic douchebag with unreasonably inflated ego and overly developed sense of self esteem who pours coffee into cups for a living."And the balls on these people! They--unbelievably--expect to be TIPPED (
see point 4, here)! Last I went to McDonald's, I wasn't tipping. And near as I can tell, the skill-set McDonald's employees bring to the counter is about the same as that of the
"Barista".
I actually do have a tip for Captain Coffee: get over yourself. As a "Barista", you're
one step down from a deli worker, who at least has to make sandwiches in addition to getting the coffee. It's
manual blue-collar labor, and there's
nothing wrong that --it's completely honorable--unless you decide you want to pretend it's not. Then you cross the line and become a
poser. Which these kids are: did you know that Starbucks actually
provides them business cards? Sheesh.
Make mine a
long black, with enough room for a heaping spoonful of "buff my scrotum."
My kid is the bomb at Islam Elementary
Buff Me Tenderly brand clothing coming soon!
My new clothing line will be available via this blog soon. I'm thinking of starting with some
tasteful cold weather gear--just in time for Fall and Winter outdoor family activities--and then from there, branch out into
oh-so-fashionable summer beach attire for men, women, and children.
Here's the first item. I thought about making the shirt say something familiar, like
"Buff My Scrotum" in a stylish repeating pattern, but instead opted for what you see here. If you'd like one, let me know, and we'll place your order on our
oh-so-fashionable and stylish secure socket layer server. I pay postage both ways, so it's a risk free purchase! Who loves ya?
The Arab woman left her purse...we found this
Click image to see this package "blown up" (terrorist pun intended)
Terrorists in my bar, dammit
Last night, up late and out, pontificating as per the norm. Location: my favorite saloon. Discussion:
how cool Israel is, as we come up on the 40th year anniversary of the
Six Day War. For those of you
from Minnesota, the Six Day War was when the
Israelis stomped the shit out of all the Arab countries who chose to participate. Sinai? Screw you
Egypt. East Jerusalem? We'll take that back, thanks so much,
Jordan. The Golan? Buff my scrotum,
Syria. And on and on. Effin' A, B, C, and D.
But in the booth behind us was an
Arab woman (I found out her ethnicity after the fact--note, picture at left: this is
not the Arab woman in the bar. The woman in the photo isn't even Arab. I just felt a groin-based
urge to post a photo of
Jessica Alba). So this Arab rigazza, she overheard everything being said and got worked up. Apparently I was making deprecating remarks about "her people", though in fact I was being more complimentary of the
IDF than anything else.
We ignored our
likely suicide bomber until she actually got up and came over to us and started in with the "you don't know what you're talking about" and "you are
nothing but a Zionist" stuff.
This tactic, talking directly to me and saying things like this, unleashes inside of your Nigel a
heaping helping of watch out here comes the vitriol. So I told her:
- to go fuck herself (with the help of a camel)
- she should feel right at home here in our little bar because the ladies room is always out of toilet paper--ergo, she could wipe her ass with her hand, as Arabs are wont to do.
- all her bomb-making relatives would be interested to know that she was in a bar, drinking Koran-forbidden demon alcohol Captain Morgan (peace be upon him). Wouldn't they?
Since I'm a regular and she was screaming by now, management called police and she was taken away.
Shlubbies, it was yet another victory for world-wide Zionist domination!!
In the "WTF?" department....this story...
More evidence of the coming apocalypse:
California gay prison inmates will be allowed conjugal visits.This one's a bit of a head scratcher. Isn't that part of what
happens nightly, inside prison, as a matter of course?
Like most stupid government shit, this comes after some kind of
research study. Scientists and prison psychologists wanted to uncover the l
ong-term effect of lack of conjugal relations on prisoners and so used
laboratory mice in a double-blind study. Unfortunately, the 10% of the
mice that happened to be gay (
two rump-ranger mice pictured doing the tarentella at right) wouldn't participate, as they were all too busy
listening to Judy Garland records.
House cleaning can buff my scrotum
I've been farting around all morning, putting off the inevitable, which is:
gotta clean the house.
It was Joan Rivers who famously said: "House cleaning sucks. I mean, you clean the house, and then six months later you've got to do it all over again."
I'm to the point that with all the
dust on the coffee table, it's time to just put a
fancy urn right there and tell people that
granddad, um, sorta spilled out and since it's holy or whatever we can't touch it. And since I work in the funeral home I get them urns wholesale, muthafucka!
Back on point: house cleaning sucks and anyone who's cheerful about it should be shot.
Example: you know who I'd like to
turn over to the Taliban? That asswipe with the
beard who does the
TV ads for cleaning products. His name is
Billy Mays and someone needs to put a bullet in his brain but first, let's force him to chug-a-lug a bottle of Oxy Clean and then shave his ugly mug with a very dull, ragged un-stropped razor.
Billy, you lying sack o' shit, you can buff my scrotum.
My turn with a snotty cake
Remember this? So that bint
got herself some payback with what she sent me at work today. It's a cake, arriving at the funeral home via hand delivery:
This is true, what she's put on the cake. Can't argue with it...
Those inscrutable Japs are testing a new product. Called "Ramen Rift-Off!", it's designed to provide propellant poop-chute power to your arse. Consume the product and in effect, you become...a rocket. Now you can get to work on time without all those pesky traffic tie-ups.
