Five for Friday: September 20, 2013

So, I’m going to continue with this Five Things idea for a bit to see where it takes me.

1) I got this little gem via a journo listserv I’m a member of.

“An unnamed digital media company in Chicago seeks stories at $7 a pop.”

I’ll keep the next few sentences simple since I’m sure you’re also in a state of shock due to what you just read. We want four AP style stories a day with a word count hovering around 400 per story. Great communication skills are a must. Please send your resume and 4 clips to fuckthewriter@bohica.com.

After I fashioned a bag of ice over my sore noggin (it’s sore from banging it against the wall after reading the listserv email), I tried to imagine the level of the mind that believes it’s okay to pay a writer a measly $7/post. Why the hell not? Them’s just words! Anyone can do it! You know, that makes total sense so sign me up!

I’d rather eat ground glass.

2) I wanna know the methodology that was used for this study.

Penis Map Of The World Exposes Weenie Size In Each Country

Plus, ain’t it kinda a cool that dong size has little to do with potency? See, that’s how it’s done denizens of certain South American and African countries. Not only are the Indians and Chinese kicking our asses in so many other ways, their wee schvantzes are helping to produce shitloads of humans to ensure that they’ll be kicking our asses for generations to come. In other words, size ain’t an issue … in some instances.

(via rosalie-schweiker.wikispaces.com)

(via rosalie-schweiker.wikispaces.com)

3) This is real. Not kidding.

(via Inquisitr.com)

(via Inquisitr.com)

It’s the latest Boeing 777 in Eva Air’s fleet of flying machines. Eva Air, by the way, is the Taiwanese airline. You can get in touch with your inner-confused hipster who sports ironic tats, facial hair, piercings and fedoras, by taking one of the three flights between Taipei and Los Angeles each week. Then, you can Instagram it, put pix of you acting all goofy inside the plane on one of your many Tumblrs, then get a tat of the plane on your lower back.

4) Now, this tat was on a “20 Tattoos That You Should Get Removed” page. I’m confused though–I don’t see what the problem is.

(via RedCastle83)

(via RedCastle83)

5) Aaaaaaaaaaaand I’ll just leave this here. Enjoy!

Armed To the Peen

You know what? This makes perfect sense to me.

British Man’s Arm Will Become His Penis

I can’t decide which hed I like better though, so I’ll post both.

I’ve bedded over 100 women… but I don’t have a penis

Andrew dreams of surgery to change his life

Thanks to the The Sun and The Inquistr. My god, to be a fly on those copy desks when the editors start brainstorming heds. I can almost hear ‘em now: “Ok, think penis, arm, sex…Hmm..a man who has had sex with over 100 woman but has no peen. Hmm..how ever shall we come up with a clever hed?”

Or something like that.

Here’s the tale of the peen, or of the arm, or of the arm-peen. Ugh. I don’t know. Just play along for shits and giggles.

Turns out, Andrew Wardle, 39, is quite the casanova for someone so young. He’s bright, funny AND good looking. He has various physical ailments–like an ectopic bladder–born with it formed on the outside–various kidney issues, berries but no twig, and a myriad of other, fun health problems.

In other words, he’s a trim magnet.

(courtesy 24Tanzania.com)

(courtesy 24Tanzania.com)

But here’s the rub (shut UP), he’s lacking one organ that is quite essential to the act of bumpin’ uglies: He is sans penis, and is so distraught about it, he never told his mates AND has contemplated suicide.

Huh?

Was he diddling blind women? I mean, I’m a woman and we do engage in such bawdy talk with our female friends. Think “Sex & The City” but much more graphic and grisly. Nothing is sacred, guys, remember that the next time you make a snide comment about a woman’s body because there is a VERY good chance she’s telling all of her friends at what a horrible lay you are.

OR, she’s being kind and raving about your enormous schvantz.

There’s no grey area here–it’s one, or the other, mmkay?

And to answer your question, I have no idea how that works. It’s a, um, head scratcher.

Back to the MIA peen. Looks like Mr. Wardle is having some sort of reconstruction surgery this summer, AND the surgeons are going to fashion something resembling a penis out of his arm.

Hang on, I gotta look at my arm for a sec.

Huh. I guess using a body part to fashion it into another body part makes sense, but if my arm was used, the results would be covered in freckles. And, that’s errs on the side of creepy because I don’t need a penis–I get mine on the outside–so why I checked out my arm as a possible candidate, I have no idea.

Anyhoo, here’s a little visual about how things are gonna go down for Mr. Wardle in a British operating theatre this summer.

(courtesy of The Inquistr)

(courtesy of The Inquistr)

Usually medical procedures, or certain painful events that only men can relate to (i.e. getting kicked in the balls) don’t cause me to wince because, really, I can’t relate to what it feels like to get a prostate exam.

However, this photo speaks for all of us when the idea of this operation finally sinks in.

r-PENIS-CUT-OFF-large570

Godspeed, Andy.

Straight from the horse’s …

I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I also don’t know what the hell to say about this.

Aussie Michael Francis Klan Sends Video of Himself Having Sex with Horse to Ex-Wife

from Moral Low Ground

An Australian man has been sentenced to two years’ probation after being found guilty of having sex with a horse and then sending his ex-wife a video of the shocking event.

The Queensland Times reports that Michael Francis Klan, 36, of Fairney View pleaded guilty to carnal knowledge of a horse, or bestiality, in Ipswich District Court. Klan recorded himself raping the horse and then sent his ex-wife messages asking if she wanted see video or photos of the crime. After sending her a video, she notified police and showed them the footage.

Crown Prosecutor Caroline Marco called Klan’s shocking actions “disturbing and abhorrent,” and a psychiatrist testified that he needed specialized treatment for his zoophilia and other issues.

While Judge Sarah Bradley concurred that Klan’s crime was “disgusting” and an outrage to the community, she took into account the stress he was under due to his failed marriage and other problems. Bradley sentenced Klan to two years’ probation with the condition that he get any treatment programs deemed appropriate.

Steve Kissick, Klan’s defense barrister, said his client has found a new girlfriend, who is standing by him during his ordeal.

Purple Pain

I’m convinced that some male fashion designers absolutely abhor women. They make shit for, what they claim, is for art’s sake when in reality they fucking hate us.

Don’t believe me? Well, feast your peepers on these fab frocks and please, by all means, tell me what you think.

(courtesy of weirdomatic.com)

And, finally … nothing quite says art like a big, stank-ass ashtray with a smoldering cig in it that’s really a chapeau:

(courtesy of puppiesandflowers.com)

Once upon a time, actually it’s more like once upon many a-time, I puked up stuff resembling these threads. That was a time when I was knee-deep in a nasty-as-fuck eating disorder where refunding food was a common occurrence. So, it’s only natural that when I gaze upon such stuff, it’s like a bulimic ‘Nam PTSD flashback minus the “DIDI MAO!!”, rats eating through my tumtum to get out of the bamboo/water trap and Charlie. Thank dog that I no longer do such a thing. Instead, I prefer to showcase my self-loathing via this blog, and by committing petty crimes like flipping off truckers on the interstate and flashin’ mah boobs at the religious nutlies who dare to ring my bell.

All was well and good.
Then came you.

Fortunately, this didn’t cause me to stick my fingers down my throat, but it did give me one helluva chuckle. After watching it a few times, it reminded me of something. Long lead-in, but it’s worth the wait.

There. That’s much better.

What’s next?

Oh yeah. While I was shopping for various sundries and my weekly supply of box wine, I had a wee run-in with one of the neighborhood’s more colorful characters. I’ve seen this woman around from time to time–yelling at trees and fire hydrants–whatever object is harshing her mellow that day. She’s harmless–as far as I can tell–and she’s never said one word to me.

Until today.

After my reign of terror in Jewel, I was pushing my goods in a cart out to my car. I was in my own little McCrabass universe so I didn’t notice her quickly sidling up to me. By the time I spied her, it was too late. I turned just in time to catch some spit with my cheek and a dirty hand moving quickly to my head.

“WITCH! WITCH!”

I know, I was surprised too, but not really. I’ve been called worse and consider being called a “witch” a huge compliment, a badge of honor if you will. Unlike Christine O’Donnell, it would be easy for me to capitalize on this moniker.

Ruh-roh, I forgot to mention an important detail here. I had a layer of my chocolate-thunder brown hair dyed dark purple/blue. Also, the ends in the back look like they’ve been ‘dipped’ in the same color. It’s subtle, and looks good. Not outlandish at all, and considering what I’ve seen lurking on the streets of Chicago, my hair color is fucking Ann Romney-esque in comparison.

Not according to my touched little friend.

I grabbed her paw just as she was about to fondle my purple goods.

“Oh, no touch, dearest. You touch me and you’ll lose your hand, mmmkay?” I said, my eyes locked on hers.

I noticed then she looked an awful lot like Miles Davis and it gave me pause, but not for long. There was no time to ponder this similarity since her other hand was careening quickly toward my hair. This time, I slapped her hand away, put my hand up, palm facing her and raised my voice.

“You try this again and it ain’t gonna be pretty. I suggest you walk away before you get hurt.”

My heart was pounding by this point because this woman was big — bigger than me. I was scared shitless but my eyes never left hers. She finally backed down and started to wander off. I watched as she stomped off and was about to get into my car when it appeared she was at a safe distance, when she spun on her heels and screeched:

“I CURSE YOU AND YOUR PURPLE HAIR YOU FUCKING BITCH!!”

With that, I blew her a kiss, got in my car and drove home.

It’s not a tumah …

For the most part, I believe that plastic surgery and all sub-categories of it are a good thing. It helps people with jack shit for self-esteem feel better about themselves by correcting hook noses, weak chin issues, sagging earlobes and boobage, and facial lines as deep as the Grand Canyon. Of course, plastica is used for good, like when someone was maimed or scarred in some horrible manner. But this is not the case here.

Sometimes I wonder which image I would prefer staring at: A plate of rotting meat mixed with maggots, feathers, rotting eggs, or someone sitting across from me with a sutured visage complete with pus and yuck oozing out of it.

Hmm .. I’ll take the meat please

Of course, plastic surgery is rife with those who abuse it.

(courtesy cdn.sheknows.com/)

 

 

(courtesy of thumpandwhip.com)

I could write a book called Dull Knife: Profiles in Bad Plastic Surgery, but nah. Not into it. Anyway, you get the idea.

Now, we’ve got a bunch of nimrods who are into shooting buckets of saline into their foreheads, then pressing a thumb in the middle of the bulbous splotch to add a little more drama. No, not to eliminate lines, but to look as if they have a bagel IN THEIR FOREHEAD. I mean, when I first saw this new look, all I could think of was Rocky Whathisname from “Mask.” Or Joseph/John Merrick.

Now, if I were to do this, I’d add a big eye to the ‘hole’ and cover up my real eyes, then  act like a cyclops. It would give me something to do.

Someone please essplain to me why this is necessary because I’m at a loss.

Life’s 47% Pageant

Last night, I dreamed that this was me in my new, seizure-inducing living room.

(courtesy of worldofwonder.net)

Hey, it’s a huge improvement over the dreams I usually have where this character makes an appearance in one form or another:

(courtesy of wikipedia)

I know. Ouch. Somedays I’m Saturn, other days I’m his son. Either is a bummer no matter what.

This week marks yet another unpropitious anniversary–20 months of unemployment. Or, to reiterate what I said to my friend Braulio recently, it’s been a fucking weird year.

Meh.

I could bitch and moan about it, but what’s the point? I’ve got some freelance work that’s keeping me one step ahead of the law so mankind is safe for the time being. Plus, it’s much more fun to provide witty, acerbic yet caustic commentary on what’s been happening in the world lately. As we all know, there’s a plethora o’ material.

In. His. Wet. Dreams. Herman Cain is the gift that keeps on giving–kinda like herpes and his GOP brethren. When he says stuff like: “Stupid people are ruining America, and we’ve got to take it back” you know it’s time for him to return to making shitty pizza and leave the tough stuff like maintaining control of all four limbs and making actual decisions about big important things — like how to solve this country’s problems — to those who have a titch more experience in such matters. Knowing which type of pizza sauce is tastier, makes you an expert in, well, nothing.

Folks, Russia’s latest export is a super hot-model. Yep. I know. Yawn.

Let’s try this again.

Folks, Russia’s latest export is a super-hot model is a DUDE who looks like a CHICK.

Meet Stanyslas Fedyanin. He’s prettier than everyone ever. Kudos on mastering tucking your sack back.

(courtesy buzzap.jp)

And we’re back to Russia, or in this case, the Ukraine. They’re all the same to me. Anyway, that part of the world births some of the oddest shit.

Anastasiya Shpagina is no exception. Apparently, living a real life isn’t enough so she’s now an anime person or character or whatever fanboys call them. I don’t really know what that is either. Maybe the videos below will provide some sort of explanation.

FYI: Dziga Vertov would be disgusted by the horrible camera angles.

Hope this helps tame your latent-girls-dressed-as-anime-characters-fantasy, pervs. If these examples didn’t take away the schwing you’re feeling in your nether regions, you can always get some broad to dress up like an anime character–money is always a good enticement. This vid will show you both how! Just keep the volume at a reasonable level because we all know how well sound travels up from your mom’s basement. You wouldn’t want to interrupt her canasta tourney.

Wanking Roger.

Gentlemen, when you’re too lazy to give ye olde pud a wank, there’s this.

Sigh.

If you use it, I wouldn’t go about all willy nilly bragging about it. Masturbation is one of the few great rights we have left and if you’re not up for it, I’d keep it to yourself.

Of buttholes and bugs …

There are days when I can’t think of a thing to write — shocking but true.

To remedy this blockage, I search within my dark, snark-filled soul and usually a subject magically creeps its way up and out. This works most of the time. However, there are instances where no matter how much navel gazing I do, I end up staring at a blank computer screen.

Recently, the latter happened and it took all of my power to not collect more restraining orders.

Until these two gems were dumped into my RSS feed, and Mama has lots to say about both.

First, I don’t have a problem with tattoos. If you want to cover your body with whimsical artwork

(courtesy inkarttattoos.com)

or use your body as a resume …

… then who am I to judge?

There is very little in this society that has given me pause, until I read this.  Before I continue, you must watch the vidya below.

Such a delicate flower, idn’t she? I wonder which trailer park she rolled out of prior to her semi-sober stroll thru the 17th Annual South Florida (of COURSE) Tattoo Expo. Also, after spending time on the trailer park’s semen-stained community mattress out behind the outhouses with Jed, you’d think she’d have enough sense to, you know, maybe run a comb through her scraggly locks and maybe don some threads that fit.

But what about the tattoo on her ayyy-nooose? Actually, I’m trying not to think about it because it just makes me clench (yep) and sweat (you know it). No wonder she’s doing shots during the hole (oops) procedure. Shit (oh yes), you know you’d all do the same to push (uh huh) through the pain.

Why the anus? WHY? Maybe this is a question that should never be answered. It should remain a mystery. However, according to her, anal tats are gonna be the new thing. So, pucker-up, buttercups!

Meanwhile, over in Japan, things are a bit tamer, yet eye-brow raising.

I have no idea who Shoko “Shokotan” Nakagawa is.

(courtesy of your pervy father’s porn collection and keymochi.com)

I guess she’s some Anime chick who sings and pahfohms fah yew! Ok, fine. I get it, She’s Japan’s answer to Miley Cyrus, minus the creepy, mulletted peepaw. She’s cute — kinda like EVERYTHING in Japan.

Where was I going with this? Sorry, got distracted by the bento boxes shaped like panda bears and the fuzzy bikini Ms. Nakagawa swiped from my closet. Strumpet.

(courtesy of gawker.com)

She’s the Lady Gaga of Japan and I am now a fan. She’s taken Gaga-ness one step further and for that she gets my undying loyalty. She has bugs, not just ordinary bugs, but cicadas on her head and they look COOL. See, I think the cicada is the Cadillac of big-ass bugs. They’re not dirty like cockroaches, and they make a soul-calming sound –if you’re into high-pitched screeching. Plus, the whole 17-year routine they’ve got going is to be respected.

Also, we’re not creeped out enough as a society.