Tag: humor

Also Fanta Posse Sounds Vaguely Erotic

The Fanta Girls Are My Hip-Hop Posse
Say I’m too busy working on my streetwear line to find a posse. Enter the Fantanas, a pre-cast set of hot multi-ethnic chicks, ready to follow me around to parties. They’re never too exhausted to dance on the bar in my stead, and I’m pretty sure they never need to be fed or use the bathroom. That being the case, you may wonder why I wouldn’t call on the arguably more talented and media-savvy Pussycat Dolls. But I think someone is forgetting about the bottomless supply of second-rate mixers.

12 Most Entertaining Fetish Photos on Flickr

A small collection of fascinating, non-threatening fetish photos. It’s a metaphor for interactions everywhere online, where you can know a few incredibly intimate things about someone, and absolutely nothing else.

One man’s “huh?” is another man’s “ohhh.”

12. Good Company
11. Fetish Tension
10. Storm Trooper High Heels
9. Sir and Sir Fox
8. Star Wars Foreplay
7. Giant Beach Feet
6. Sensual Juice
5. Dead
4. This Time the Dog is the Master
3. Fetish Fair Fairy Godfather
2. Touch My Sith
1. Anthrocon 2007

The Little Things

Does it seem strange to anyone else that ribbon organizing has become a thing we think about?

On one hand, it could be a sign that things are going pretty damn well for us. We have so few worries that ribbon storage has made it onto our lists. Then again, it could be the household version of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

Regardless, this is genius:

Not Even a Devo Hat

We have three costumes for Hank, none of which he will wear, because he does not like hats. Or tails. Or sleeves.

It’s perplexing, because he’s never resisted any of these things before. Clearly, he can sense how much Halloween means to me. How I will do anything, short of super-gluing ears to his head, to get him in a costume.

Every time I approach with some bedazzled, be-furred, or suspiciously stiff garment, he thrusts a tiny toddler hand in my face.

“No?” he says. “Bye, Mama! Bye-bye! No? NO? NOOOOOOOOoooooooo? “

And then he shakes his head vigorously and super-glue sprays everywhere. I will never get it out of the carpet.

As for that beguiling, “No?” Don’t let the question mark fool you, he will avenge himself on your offspring if you keep advancing with that cowboy hat. What kind of monster are you? The kind who’s comfortable with toddler vendettas, apparently.

“Kid! Don this elephant costume immediately. Do you hear me? Mommy wants to keep you up well past your bedtime and flood your system with high fructose corn syrup. Hold! Still!“

Eat your heart out, Dr. Spock.

Advice from Mom, Part I

Wear the tight dress. You won’t have that body forever.

If there’s a nuclear war, head north. There will be less fallout up there.

Don’t tell contractors what to do, it pisses them off. Ask them. And bring beer.

If you’re lost in the woods, follow a stream downstream and you’ll find houses.

The more they process the food, the more you have to pay. Buy the whole chicken.

If a bear attacks, curl into a ball to protect your internal organs.

If someone needs money enough to beg for it, give them a dollar.

If you boil willow bark and drink the tea, it’s like taking asprin.

You should iron that.

If something big stabs you, leave it in until you can get to the hospital.

Put a little lipstick on, Margaret.

You need to learn to shoot a handgun.

No promises about the Elmer’s Glue

This morning I used the last of some deodorant, and I felt victorious, like I had bested corporate forces that were waiting for me to buy another pack before it was time. I should have left this fateful stick in my gym locker, or dumped it from my bag in a hotel room, or found it dried and crunchy in a drawer crammed with confusing hair products.

For my next feat, I shall use the last of a bottle of honey before it becomes a bear-shaped crystaline brick, or perhaps consume an entire bag of ground-up coffee beans before they start tasting like dirt.

Then we’ll have a party. You bring the coffee.