Yes, get ready to barf.

You know you’ve always wanted one. You know, once you got one, you’d never be able to give it up.

What He’s Thinking…

However, be advised some of the language may be . And, if you say all that stuff maybe this is what happens to your ride.

Now for the fellas who are having that kind of issue with their ladies, maybe this will help. A handy User’s Guide, about women by a woman, about which we learned by passing through The Saloon.

And finally, how can any comment about The Sisterhood be considered complete, without a nod to the classic Ladder Theory.

An article in the New Yorker that was greenlit on FARK.

“Greenlit” means you don’t have to subscribe to TOTALFARK in order to read the comments, which include this gem:

I just knew reading TFA, that one of the first three posts in this thread would be somebody getting testy about the third section. Thank you, z00mz00mz00m for not disappointing me.

Funny video about a man running into WAGTOCPAN on a bluetooth. Twice.

I have a list of bluetooth etiquette rules that I keep forgetting to upload. Someday I’ll have to get on the stick about that. Of course, since I actually have a bluetooth and use it regularly, my list is different from most others…Don’t use the damn thing isn’t on my version. If memory serves, rule #1 is actually something like “Talk about important crap or don’t talk at all,” which applies to non-bluetooth cell phone users as well.

We bluetooth users do have pet peeves of our own, believe it or not. Yes, we do. For starters, whether you feel yourself abused and somehow entitled to do so, or not, it does nothing to help you or anyone around you to come up to us and start a conversation with us about how cool it is that we have a hands-free earpiece while we are already on the phone with someone. What is this, some kind of misguided sense of retribution? Like “you’re self-important and I have to figure out what’s going on, so I’m going to act self-important and you can try to figure out what I’m doing while you’re on the phone and that oughtta show you?”

Some of us really do stay off the phone unless it’s really important. And then we tell the other person, “okay, we’ll have to pick this up later because I’m going into a meeting (theater) (restaurant) etc. etc. etc.”

So save it for the clamshell people. It bears repeating. Save it for the clamshell people. Why are they spared all this wrath. They tend to be the ones jibber-jabbering nonstop about nothing, which is a paradox I’ve never entirely understood. “Oh nothin’…what’re YOU doing? Really? Cool!”

And for the record, the sexy brunette is being just plain rude. In such situations, you make eye contact with the confused person — point vigorously at your ear. Unless you’re playing a bluetooth practical joke, which incidentally stops being funny much sooner than you think.

So earlier in the week it was Penis Day over at Miss Cellania’s. Which means it’s a special day over there…or was on Tuesday. Incidentally, when you’re a single dad and your kid is over for the night, that’s work. So means I don’t get to look at stuff. It’s Friday and I’m just getting my first opportunity now to look at stuff she put up Tuesday. Hey, life’s full of little challenges.

Just my opinion, but raunchy SNL skits are hilariously funny and should be replicated by everyone, immediately. Yeah, even now.

It’s , I think I said. Got that everybody? . So don’t click if you’re at work, or have a moppet looking over your shoulder, or are one yourself. Got it? Good. On with the show.

…to play video games with you.

Poor Dumb Bastard.

Yeargh.

Via Boortz, a rare interview.

If you think you have a really big problem on your hands, or you’ve done something just incredibly weighty and influential to solve it, maybe you’d like to go here for just a spell.

If you haven’t hit The Crazy Rants of Samantha Burns, you’re missing something.

Probably something mighty silly…like Spiders On Drugs. Or, something equally worthy of your attention. Go on, drop in.

…way back in Grandpa’s time. What? This? Really?

From The Bleat.

Yeah, that’s an interesting metaphor.

…for somebody. Not sure who.