This is why people have made Christmas more about Santa Claus than Jesus. You can debase the character all you want and it just comes off as funny, no matter how horrible it really is. Who wants guilt during the holiday season?
Christmas is the absolute worst time of year because people like this, who think they’re fashionable and festive, take it upon themselves to combine the two things to make “Christmas fashions.” The result is pretty much always this — a gaunt, dead soul in red and green.
This guys knows his place. He’s a pig. A damned dirty pig. Oink, oink! Boink, boink! You’re going to roll around in his slop.
I know this all sounds terrifying, but he paints a very compelling picture when you talk to him about it.
There’s nothing sadder in this world than overestimated cup sizes. Your tits aren’t going to magically fill them one day. And I mean… aren’t you worried about birds nesting in there? Or dust mites? They’re probably bad for boobs, too.
I’ve affectionately titled this photo: “Dong pic.”
Sharing is caring, mother fucker! Nobody wants to share their soda with a dog, but you don’t have to be a dick about it, and you certainly don’t have to stiff-arm him in the face like you’re Michael Vick.
Uh… yes, please. That tiny piece of ass hanging out the bottom of those little athletic shorts is what would cause my eyes to bug out and my tongue to roll out of my mouth if I were a wolf in a cartoon.
I understand real women have curves, but real women don’t have inadequately repressed random bulges.
A human body pressed up against a wall is instantly 10 times sexier than a body that’s just standing under its own power. This is called the “We’re All Lazy Fucks in America” effect. It states: The strength of a man’s erection is inversely proportional to how upright a woman is.
Seduction pro tip: Don’t wear a leotard stuffed with two melons and pantomime pinching nipples while flicking out your tongue and saying, “Tit monster! Tit monster! Tit monster!” I know most of you already know this, but here we are.
If you’ve never had an orgasm that made your partner call 9-1-1, you’ve got some fucking to do, my friend.
OK, everyone has their own little quirks when it comes to the release of an orgasm, but stumbling out into the wilderness upon climax and going missing for a whole week is not going to get you many repeat customers.
This is so classy that one time Nick at Nite accidentally aired this photo in place of a Welcome Back, Kotter episode.
Women’s accessories have gotten out of control. Nobody notices your earrings. Nobody notices your shoes. Nobody notices your disco ball. How about spending that money on a date once in a while? That’s a nice accessory.
The one positive thing that’s come out of Jersey Shore is we now know who the women are who find guidos attractive. That means we can weed them out of society by pinning them down forever under their own personal guido, thus effectively eliminating both the guido and the guido sympathizer threats.
Nobody can tell anymore when someone is being serious or they’re mocking Jersey Shore. I think these girls are for serious.
1. Humans are not orange. 2. Duck face needs to stop. 3. Being a drunk, walking STD idiot should not be glamorized, monetized nor mocked. It should simply be ignored.
Contrary to popular belief, women did not invent blow jobs. This guy did. Meet Harold Johnson, or as he’s known in fellatio circles: “The Godfather of Suck.”
What is it that causes one’s eyes to roll around like those plastic googly eyes you used in arts & crafts in grade school when you’re given good oral? Whatever it is, it makes you look like you’ve never had your weewee near a girl before. Ew! Cooties!
I have this sneaking suspicion you're trying to be funny or clever or something... but that Yes/No post about trans women was just NOT. Good. At. All. The "yes" was iffy enough and rather 'WTF?' (gender role experts? wtf?). But that bottom "No" was just horrible and disgusting and anti-trans / transmisogynistic like woah. TRANS WOMEN =/= DECEIVERS. That is one of the worst, most oppressive tropes about trans women out there. Whatever you were aiming for, you missed. By a long shot.
Heterosexuals, your job is thus: make more people. That is the one thing in your life that you’re supposed to do. You win a Pulitzer or start a war, that’s great, but if you don’t spawn another person, then you’ve ultimately failed as a human. So, these people have the right idea. Social proprieties be damned, they’re just going to stick it in at every opportunity. These are incontrovertibly good humans.
Straight people go way too far out of their way sometimes to attract the opposite sex. You really don’t need to be super fit, limber or holistically healthy to make someone want to touch your area. Stop flexing your muscles and try just sexing your muscles every once in a while.
This is how far society has come. Less than two decades ago, you could barely say “gay” on television. Now, men’s eyelashes are butterfly wings. That’s progress.
Part of that progress is you don’t need to be loud and obnoxiously flamboyant to make sure everyone knows you’re gay anymore. Just maintain a celebrity blog and make death threats against bullies who harass gay children.
When you’re over 21 and still living with mom and pops, the mere prospect of them leaving you home alone overnight provokes an orgasmic response that the Rabbit vibrator you keep hidden in your “off-limits on cleaning day, mom!” drawer can’t match.
Mucking about is all well and good, but reminding your parents of just how retarded you turned out is rude and unnecessary when they’re already paying to keep a roof over your head well into your thirties.
no, the part where you called trans* women "guys" and said that they got breast implants only to confuse ""gender role experts"", and then said that having a penis and being a woman is a "no" :/ you can say ~~it's okay to be transgender~~ all you want, but youre clearly just an asshole.
You have no comprehension of how this blog is formatted or what the message of the post is. If you did, you’d understand that it supports openness of gender neutrality and indicts deception. Please take your hate elsewhere.
Can you imagine where the education system in this country would be if there weren’t still teachers out there who are tenured and can teach their quality lesson plans with their eyes closed and backs humped?
The self-congratulatory, “everybody’s a winner” bullshit needs to stop. No one learns anything from constant feel-goodery. See?! “Feel-goodery” isn’t even a real word! I’m a product of never being firmly corrected or challenged by my mentors.
Spend over a decade going through medical school with many sleepless nights of residency and eventually rise to the ranks of Chief Surgeon so you can rig the surgery schedule and be in the operating room when he has to have his tonsils out — all while keeping her interested and waiting. Waiting for this day. OK, I can see what you’re getting at.
Killing kids is not OK. It just… well, it just isn’t. You’re not even supposed to kill adults, and kids are like tiny, helpless versions of adults. That’s the nuts and bolts of the logic behind it. So, sending a child’s head in a wreath to the grieving family is probably not OK either.
Don’t lie. The things that pop into your head when you see this girl are the types of things that get you sent away to a hospital where they lock you up so you can’t be out scaring society. Let’s play a word association game. What’s the first word that comes to your mind when you look at these words?
Grape, rapture, rapier, rapine, rap.
You make me sick.
Being alone with one’s thoughts is really overrated, especially when most people’s thoughts are along the lines of, “I wonder what would happen if I just dropped my cell phone from here,” “If I really tried, could I fit a whole taco in my mouth?” or, “Do I really look like Elijah Wood and Topher Grace’s love child?”
"OK, now put a one since you’re claiming yourself…"
When you’re such a joke that your own kid has to discipline their self to humor you, it’s best to lay off the life lessons and parables. Your kid is better off with you being a deadbeat and learning how to survive on the streets from a crackhead named Hector.
[Also, don’t buy the kid a computer that’s older than him, Joke Dad. -Ed.]
This is more like it. She literally hunts for new shit. She doesn’t just have a hipster friend whose shit she passes off as her own. She’s out in the shit finding shit to shit on you so you can turn to your friends and say, “This is the new shit.” She bought those pearls at a garage sale for $20 and they’re real because she’s real.
Thook at lis hucking fipster. Who the fuck wears a green bangle all the way up their forearm? Who owns an office reception area chair that looks like a toilet as their only piece of furniture in a loft apartment? This chick. You can’t see it in the picture, but she’s blasting Bon Iver only so her neighbors will be sure to hear how cool she is.
Attractive ladies sitting in the back of a limo in short dresses with their legs crossed drinking champagne. This photograph is the literal image of success. You could hand this picture to college graduates after they walk the stage.
Great leaders these days can only hope to emulate great leaders of times past. Gone are the opportunities to charge into the battlefield on horseback with your saber drawn. So, instead, just make sure you look like a commissioned painting that commands respect.
What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t Lord of the Flies. Nobody follows a man blowing a shell anymore unless it’s gay men who’ve spotted that man blowing a guy named Shel at a rest stop.
I am aMAZEd. Can’t seem to escape this guy’s head no matter how hard I try.
When did it become attractive for men to look like the type of vampires at which Ann Rice’s vampires would hurl gay slurs? Oh, right — when teenage girls became complete morons with no ambition and lonely old maids became creepers afraid of fantasizing about men they could take in a fight.
Let me tell you what you are seeing here. This woman is wearing rubber boots. She is wearing rubber boots and through the magic of that dress she still looks like that vague idea which pops into your head when you start masturbating with no spank material.
Yes, there is such a thing as a NO when it comes to the little black dress, and this is it. The idea behind TLBD is flattering your figure — not making it look like a freak sideshow attraction you’re harboring inside a poorly constructed tent.
"This sundae is so fucking good. I’d been wanting one all week and now this fucker is here and I can remember what it feels like to get moist. I should call that young man over to mow my lawn. Maybe he can cut the grass when he’s finished."
Look, I’m not going to lie. This “Zooey Deschanel meets 19th century hoodlum in a funhouse” thing is making me wet. I don’t even have parts that get wet.
What are you assholes laughing at? Did someone quote Mitch Hedberg — the guy you hadn’t heard of until one of your hipster friends quoted him? We all know you immediately rushed to YouTube so you could pretend you knew who he was and found out he was a pretty funny guy who snuffed it in his prime, which makes him trendy. You can stop laughing every time someone quotes him now. It’s over.
The interesting thing about a woman’s business suit is she could be wearing your father’s suit jacket up top and that wouldn’t matter because of the short skirt on the bottom. It terms of authoritative sexiness, I’m behind this all the way, humping vigorously.
What’s happening here? Is she wrapped up in an oversized napkin from a French bistro? And a front zipper skirt? No, no, no. This is not how you want to present yourself to the board unless you’re talking about the board for the board game “Sorry.”
The look on this guy’s face says it all: “Ain’t I a stinker?” Yes. Yes, you are a glorious stinker.
Leopard print lingerie might as well come with a sash that reads, “I don’t know what turns men on.” Leopard print lingerie with an actual fucking leopard printed on it should come with a cyanide pill in case you find yourself in a situation where a man is trying to extract pleasure from you.
These people have it figured out. Keep each other at arm’s length. Don’t let her know about that hooker you sexed in Detroit last winter and don’t let him know about the man you killed when you were nineteen. Things always get shitty when you place too many emotional expectations on another human being. Just be content if she doesn’t ask for money after sex and he doesn’t provoke you to take another life.
If you have an Internet relationship, what you really have is a 21st century pen pal who goes out and bangs people who aren’t you. You know — flesh and blood people.
This guy isn’t just the life of the party, he’s the life of the life. You could insert him into any situation and Hector here would save the day. Funeral? I’d like to see your mourning penetrate that greasy bat of a mustache. War? Hector could negotiate a treatise just by dancing the Charleston. That’s how the civil war in Chad ended.
When you live life by deadlines, you have nobody to blame but yourself when life throws you a curveball and you end up being a day late and a penis short.
This is what I like to call a “middle” dress. It’s a “middle” dress because any time you wear it, it will spend more time bunched below the breasts with the skirt hiked up above the waist while you’re getting plowed than it will spend covering your entire body. I’ve lobbied fashion circles for these dresses to be worn that way by default, but I always get shot down by Valentino Garavani.
I stared at that dress cross-eyed for 30 seconds and I saw someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing pop out at me. But only for a few seconds and then I lost it.
Wearing black in the summer is pretty much stupid on account of the heat, but not when you look like this. This girl is looking off in the distance, trying to decide which caravan of men she will choose to fan her today.
How mortified is this chick? The only way she could be more moritified is if the person who made her wear this monstrous outfit were named Mortimer.
What is it about a woman in a classic white and blue nautical dress that makes you want to just rip off your clothes and offer yourself of service to her every whim until you wake up stranded on Coney Island with a fist full of skeeball tickets and VD? No, I’m asking you directly. This natural phenomenon’s explanation eludes me.
If you ever find yourself with someone asking you to explain the Middle East’s perception of America, it couldn’t hurt to have printed out this photo and drawn a little word balloon pointing to the guy’s mouth which reads, “We started another war over there today. Ha HA!”
Never underestimate black, lacy lingerie and classic things like thigh-highs. I cannot overstate this: Sploosh!
This is the exact same woman, which goes to prove there’s a stark difference in execution here. Two pairs of panties? Stop trying so hard. Men — we’re simple creatures. When you start matching your bra to the pillows it throws a wrench in the very simple mechanism of diverting blood from the brain to the penis. It’s the equivalent of stopping the proceedings to ask us to solve the integral of “e” to the “x.” K.I.S.S. Keep it simple, stupid.
"Howard, I’ve been planning this for five years. Our joint bank account has been cleared out. As I speak, everything is being moved out of the house by some sweaty beefcakes whom I plan to offer blowjobs as tips. I’ve purchased a condo for myself with our savings and drilled small holes in your boat a couple days ago. If you hurry, you can probably make it in time to watch the last stages of it sinking into the lake. I’ve left you with no quarter, and I expect the kids will put you in a home. All of this is to say — if you haven’t figured it out in that feeble mind of yours — I’m leaving you, Howard. And I know I’ve told you this time and time again over the last 52 years, but I can’t stress this enough: Your dick is small."
Doing anything meaningful over text message is generally poor form. You don’t propose, you don’t reveal pregnancy and you don’t break up over text. Sending nude photos of the new girl you’re schtooping to your girlfriend unprovoked is completely unwarranted and the type of thing a frat boy would do just so he can submit the reaction to TFLN or some other sleazy, fake self-aggrandizing “comedy” site. Don’t be that guy.
Everyone thinks porn stars are these dirty skank whores, but in actuality porn stars are probably the cleanest, most honest people you could ever meet. Sure their parts might be stretched a little, but they submit to monthly STD exams to make sure they’re completely clean and have to be pretty open or transparent to do what they do on camera. Everyone’s best friend should be a porn star.
That being said, can you imagine what society’s going to be like ten years from now, considering the fact these kids are watching two men simultaneously put their penises into a woman’s asshole while she plays Radiohead covers on the ukulele?
No. Fuck you. Depression is more than just "being sad" like "everyone else". Go fuck yourself.
If you’re going to use quotes, you should probably quote words I actually used. I have suffered from depression, so I know what it is. Your argument is invalid.
Instead of reading what you want to be angry about, understand that the post lampoons those who think depression is about having reasons to be sad. And for good measure I call myself insensitive anyway. Thanks for writing.
Tattoos of people’s faces always come out looking distorted and creepy, but tattoos of breasts? Always on point. The genius of using ass cheeks to intensify the effect is on par with the ideas which would’ve come out of a threeway between Stephen Hawking, Steve Jobs and your mother. (You should listen to her sometimes. She’s got some good ideas.)
If only my vomit could type this out for me. Nipples converted to serpent eye tattoos? Check. Collagen plumped lips? Check. 1-inch vampire incisor implants? Check. Tattooed eye make-up? Check. Daisy Duke shorts? Check. Urinating my bed for the next ten years because of related night terrors? Check.