They are. And they do.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 7

Featuring the best illustrator this side of reality.

Aram, if you were a woman, I'd stutter something that would make you lose interest.

If only you knew the amount of work I do before I put pants on.

I was just invited to apply for a pre-med internship at UCD. Tempting, but I'll stay all up out those guts for now.


Theater gf.
She really liked to role play.
We never had sex.

She used to do my
eyebrows, until she left me
for greener pastures.


Sometimes, size does matter.

Don’t pity me. I’m doing alright.


+5 nerd king points

or +4 player points

The exchange rate can be a real bitch.

I'm a rather meek individual. I've been told to be more authoritative, and I am. In baby steps.

Who's in charge, Number Two?

Doctor I couldn’t be: Proctologist. Because that shit is hard.

Twice in 2 days, I ordered a sandwich that included pickles, which was then accompanied by a pickle. It should be illegal to serve sandwich toppings as sandwich sides. You wouldn’t order a sandwich with a side of bread. That’s way too desperate of a “fuck you” to Adkins dieters.

Sorry. I had a bit of a Seinfeld moment there.

I want a gazebo, just so I could say gazebo.


Maybe all we need to get out of this economic funk is to rename all the shit people aren’t buying.

I can’t afford frozen yogurt, so I buy regular yogurt and keep my fridge on zero.

Frogyo (n): 1. Frozen Greek yogurt, 2. retro 90’s French rapper


Bonjo-yo-yo. It’s

Frog Strangler (n): Jaques the Ripper.

Watch yourself. He’ll pop a cork in dat ass.





I thought about making an animated gf,


but I think the Youtube format is much more fun. It allows for everyone’s favorite activity (and my new favorite euphemism, if you do it correctly): repetitive button pressing.

*Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle*

Which is kinda what he was trying to do before Antoine busted in and laid the smack down.

Which is kinda what he was trying to do before Antoine busted in and...whoa. An endless loop of rape jokes. I’m going to the special hell.

Happy belated 70th, John Lennon. Truly one of the greats taken before his time. It leaves us to wonder: what would he be doing if he was still alive? Would he be realizing he married a nutjob, like Paul? Would he be doing whatever the hell Ringo is doing? Would he continue breeding wookees?


Would he still be on the forefront of musical evolution?


Ah, speculation. Fortunately for us, the apple doesn’t fall far.


We gonna find you.

I think I should click Action.

Funny name: Hugh Winkie

It sounds like the man has a very large Ackman.

According to the commercial, Pizza Hut is how you guarantee a second date. I’m never cooking for a woman again.

Someone recently got close to me and said I smelled like fresh band aid. That’s my new scent:


Doctor I couldn’t be: Otolaryngologist. Because it’s commonly referred to as an ENT, and there is no fucking E in that word.


Free writing advice: Learn how to fucking write.

“The victim came too” presents an entirely different situation that you’d intended.

The reader, however, had to wait until the book fell asleep before sneaking off by himself to quietly read his own writing in the bathroom.

I’m the number one Google result for “Suck it, Hemingway.”

Mama would be proud.

The recent tearjerker Brad Pitt film, Benjamin Button, was an adaptation of an old F. Scott Fitzgerald short story. Not to be outdone by his literary rival, Hemingway has a new short story to film adaptation:


Bring the Kleenex.

And the booze.

And the gender ambiguity.


That joke could totally backfire on me if that turns out to be true.

I mean, remember Ricky Martin?


If there’s one thing I like about pop music these days (+2 old fuck points), it’s that artists are really taking risks and pushing boundaries. Like this new single by Lil John Cage featuring Schr√∂dinger’s Cat:

Wasn’t that awesome? Personally, I prefer the remix:

That’s baby makin’ music.

And now, this month’s installment of Not a Porn Site:


Open the website, scroll down, look at the tabs and try not to giggle in public.

I wonder if Crested Butte is home to the Crested Black Macaque.


A bagel is just a socially-acceptable vehicle for eating cream cheese. As much as I’d like to open a package, jam a stick into it and carry it around like an ice cream bar, people would not look kindly upon that. And I don’t want to ruin my chances of maybe running for president one day.

I’m still waiting for string cream cheese.

Get on it, scientists. It’s time to validate your existence.

Maybe you can help solve this one:

Do cheerleaders actually like Chumbawamba?

And how is that a job?

Funny name: Bonar Menninger

Technology is a wonderful thing. We may not have flying cars or string cream cheese, but my boss has email on his cellphone. That allows for typos, such as “we have hopes” becoming “we have hoes” in a marketing context.


An icon from the '30s that hung around women with big bootys.

Because, like, women were bigger back then, what with the lack of dietary knowledge and the popular consensus that hips are sexy.

We should bring that back back.

Lower Slobbovia (n): 1) A fictional land near Antarctica invented by Al Capp, creator of Lil Abner. 2) Messy oral.

Lesbian (n) - Vagitarian

The Beef Curtain (n) – Iowa

I saw a sign waver that wasn’t advertizing a pizza place or a new housing development.

First of all, when did housing become an impulse buy?

For those of you playing the jigglybits home game,


If you said “2006,” you’re correct.

The sign waver I saw was advertising an urgent care center. That seems to be a much more appropriate and useful advertisement. If you happen to be leaking blood right now, this way.

It borders on a PSA. Whomever owns that sidewalk should be required to host such sign wavers for a small portion of the day.

I passed a Halliburton truck on the highway and slowed down so I wouldn’t get pulled over.

Halliburton is in my MS Word spell check dictionary and Funkadelic is not.

Things really were better during the Clinton administration.

Hoboken (n): 1. A fractured homeless man, 2. The latest, post-housing crash Ken doll

Fun for the whole family.

Dear Taggers,

Spraying graffiti on a train does not demonstrate how hardcore you are. If you want to impress me, use a roller. One long stripe covering an entire side as it passes.


A friend called me “the BOMB.” Help me. Is that still a compliment?

When our parents were kids (and yes, this is a recycled joke from last time), “the bomb” was a source of mortal danger. But by the ‘90s, we had gotten so complacent as a nation that such vernacular was able to creep into prominence. That shit became uncool shortly before 9-11, further solidifying the clairvoyance of rap.

I mean, how many of you have gotten all up in dat ass since 2001?

At that point, when our nation lost its collective terrorism cherry, bombs were once again regarded as sources of fear. Or if you’re George W., a means of not quite paying the bills.


I don’t get it. I mean, a war economy worked for Germany.

A black man named Arian just set Houston’s single game rushing record.

We will solve our nation’s energy crisis by hooking up a generator to the spinning graves of racists everywhere. They spin faster than the average dead people, due to their aerodynamic heads. As a result, we will have an energy surplus, which we will then sell to Saudi Arabia to reduce their dependence on foreign oil.

Due to this technological breakthrough, Arian will be the only football player with an Energy Star rating, and the wealthy owners of the Texans will get a tax cut for employing him.

Clean and renewable energy displacing oil and giving tax cuts to rich Texans. I’ve found a solution to our energy problem that absolutely no one can get mad over. Houston doesn’t even have a rival football team, they suck so bad.

Am I the only one who thinks commercials for 5 Hour Energy = 1950s ads for Mother’s Little Helpers?

Beaver Cleaver (n):


I had to use it twice. I totally dropped the ball last time.

Frogyo (v): 1. Bouncing an amphibian up and down from his tongue wrapped around your finger, you sick fuck. 2. Yo-yoing while attempting to cross the street.

FroG-Unit (n):

FroG-Unit (trans. French): Oui-Tang Clan


Putuis don’t need no words.

Doctor I couldn’t be: Dre.


I can’t wait for his new record: AARNWA.

I want to age like Bill Cosby. He looks old as fuck, but he also looks like a reptile.


A friend of mine just got into a car crash. No one was hurt, thank physics.

But wait. Who invented physics?

Thank Newton.

I was hungry, and now I’m not hungry anymore, thank Newton.

Perhaps the best thing about being thin is that I don’t concern myself with 100 calorie snack packs. You’re still eating a pink Twinkie. It’s just smaller.

Last year, I was lucky enough to not get the swine flu.

Sorry. H1N1.


Diseases tend to be more entertaining, not to mention more real, when they’re named after animals or board games. It makes sense that we’d be naturally inclined to personify invisible forces that we don’t fully understand and are therefore scared shitless of.


I wonder if they did the same thing in 1912, when the flu first broke. But that was a while ago, and it wasn’t as mutated as the swine flu or even the bird flu. They may have called it the protozoa flu.

+ 2 nerd points.

I know. It was a long way to go for not much reward. But you should be used to that by now.

On the bright side, this post now has at least one joke representing every decade for the past 100 years.

+7 nerd points.

History buff (n): Geriatric oral.

Add it to the list of things you can angrily call me.

Come jiggle with me.