In complete contradiction to the nice-guys-finish-last business model, congratulations to Jay, who’s finally going to get the opportunity to prove he’ll be the super dad we all knew he should be. It’s people like Jay that tip me from “pessimist” to “realist.”
To be honest, I don’t really think I’ve ever known why I bother. I certainly always expect to come out on the shit end of the stick, and I haven’t been wrong yet. Fool me, um… like, many, many times… shame on me.
It’s always nice to have your crap world view and suspicious, never-trust-anyone attitude confirmed. Being living proof that nice guys finish last? Priceless.
If you’re beautiful, and purely coincidentally, have an extra $5,000.
It goes “Raping a Woman” then “Strangling Dogs” then “Killing a Person.”
What’s in that pic-i-nic basket?
Crazy cooking.
Even more subtle-tastic Director’s Cut here.
A minute of meta-irony.
Violent Acres is the very popular blog of a woman who just bitches about everything and everybody. She doesn’t pull any punches, and doesn’t take any crap, and says the kinds of things you can only say when nobody knows your name. And she gives really good advice, even if it’s impossible to follow.
Other recommended posts:
This one, this one, this one, or just poke around. I’m sure she’d cut my balls off for my awful puns.
Just watch the first 60 seconds. If you can stop watching, then you and I are clearly not meant to be.
I’m too lazy to verify this, but it seems someone stole Roseanne’s sex tape. Hooray beer!
The new diet pill everyone is so excited about does have some interesting warnings.
You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it’s probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work.
When opportunity knocks, you’ve got to grab it and shoot it four times in the chest.
(warning: embedded hip hop)
I just went through all the stuff the freelancer did last week, assuming I’d have to do it all over again myself. Because that’s what always happens.
But I don’t have to. It’s perfect. Flawless. And I only told her how to do it once. Just once.
She got it. She really understood what needed to be done, and she did it.
You have no idea how rare that is in this town.
So of course, she’s leaving town forever. Tomorrow.
Jason Bourne Comes Home, Literally. Yes. Literally.
Screech remains true to his self by departing Celebrity Fit Club in a blaze of f***in’ glory.
Going out last night reminded me why I don’t like to go out. Being the comic relief is exhausting, and at the end of the evening, you just end up with the horns.
I don’t have any reason to believe this is the same bunch that tore in to my house, but I like to think it is.
This story is not about what I thought it was.
This is for you, Andrew.
Find out how long you’ve got.
Sports reporter tells the truth about Michael Vick, gets fired. Seriously.