They are. And they do.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 8

Aram’s laundry day Twitter: Underthings tumbling.

Sorry if this isn't good for you. I'm recovering from total hard drive failure.






No. It’s not like that.


Ok, fuck. I admit it.


It’s ok, though.

RIM/Jobs is getting pretty nasty.

And not to go overboard with the excuses, but I was also poisoned.


No, fuck. I mean an angry midget slipped something into my drink that made me violently ill.

When does that ever happen? My life isn't a James Bond movie.

It's a James Brown movie.


I’m on the scene.

Ah, winter. I for one can’t wait for the cold weather because it makes the women wear all sorts of practical clothing. Don’t get me wrong. I like boobs. But when the jackets come out, talk of bikini season and insecurity over having multiple dimensions disappears. Insecurity isn’t sexy, nor is tangible bone definition. Sexy is me knowing I can throw you around a little without worrying about breaking you. Sexy is a woman chin deep in a turkey leg, not because poultry is less fattening than beef, but because it’s fucking delicious. And shared body heat is perhaps the best side effect of tryptophan and cold weather.

I also like being able to open beer with my nipples.

It’s hoodie weather.


Glee < That episode of Futurama where Fry makes a deal with the robot devil to get robot hands so he can write a symphony to win over Leila

More robots. Less autotune.

“Michael likes The Book Beaver on Facebook and suggests you like it too.”

That’s like a triple redundancy for a given.


I’d like to think these two towns are eternally locked in bitter, violent war.

Happy Valley (n): The female what-have-you

If you don’t know how to get there, follow the trail.

Do you spit or swallow when you throw up a little in your mouth?

This month’s installment of Not a Porn Site:

It's ok. It's a dog.

But look at the dog’s smile. Then look at the bulge in his uniform.

All of the pages on Wikipedia now have a banner at the top, which reads: “Please read: A personal appeal from the founder of Wikipedia.” I’ll save you the trouble of ignoring it and just tell you what it says:

Deer Wurld,

Plz mak uh movee abowt mee.


Guye hoo gott ritch frum evryone else’z wurk

Apparently, the founder of Wikipedia is a cat.


With the fire he’s come under lately, he needs one hell of a witness protection program. His new name will be Julienned Sausage.

No one will ever know.

Unfortunately, his new name will put a damper on his otherwise promising career in Greasy French Information Superpirate Porn.

"Who ordered the Assange?" had a much nicer ring to it.

Here’s a new monthly segment, tentatively called: Note to self that makes it look like I’m getting a lot more than I really am.

Wed. 5:30 – Meet Jen for a taco downstairs.

Wed. 6:30 – Giggity.

Sorry, Diddy. But I’m not ready for that kind of long-term relationship.

Cause it’s Bad Boy for the length of my contract unless either party deems the relationship to be less than beneficial over the next several years. Bitches.

I love being in shape, but I don't think I'll ever join a gym. Pjs > spandex.

I lead a very introspective life. Perhaps the question I most ask myself is "Why am I still wearing pants?"

Those who know me know this is true. Pants are for pussys. Or dicks, depending upon what your jigglyquipment is.

I like making up words.



Fairlegh Dickinson University in New Jersey offers a master’s degree in Homeland Security: 36 credits, 12 courses, teaching Weapons of Mass Destruction/Terrorism Awareness in a predominantly online setting.

Kermit: How did you learn to drive?
Fozzie: I took a correspondence course.

“Wocka wocka wocka” is the official sound effect for what that department is doing to us.

Dear Speaker John Boehner,

I learned in first grade that when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking.



You know what we need to combat that dickhead?


We need Lance Armstrong to donate a lot of blood.



America, meat A. Weiner.

Codpiece (n): Prosthetic available from The Hair Club for Fish

It also sounds like a traditional Christmas decoration. So, next time you’re at a friend or relative’s house and they have a tree set up, point in its general direction and ask them if they put the codpiece on.

I’m taking a poll. You can email me their responses. Proceeds go toward hiring Julian Assange to find and bring to the internet a high-res image of Brendan Fraser from Encino Man.

I like Christmas because it makes people abandon their morals.

Now be a good little boy and/or girl, and I'll go throw some elbows to get you that expensive hunk of plastic and lead paint made for pennies by a child.

I sure hope Patty Larceny turned her life around. I mean, it can’t be easy breaking away from the expectations of that kind of family name, but she shouldn’t have gone hanging around some German lady named after a whale’s vagina.

That woman sure did get around.

If I ever get an anal polyp, I’ll name it Carmen Sandiego, just so I can ask the doctor that question.

I don’t own a microwave. I just make everything fresh. Or depending upon the day, funky fresh.

Don’t judge me.


Check out my new place:

People ask me if living by myself is lonely as fuck. It’s not. It’s lonely as making love.

Wow. That was like Mitch Hedberg without the Prozac.

It’s ok, though. I get out. In fact, I recently went up north and spent a weekend with two women in a little shack in the middle of the woods. We shared some laughs, had a lot to drink, and then we all huddled together and I introduced them to Battlestar Galactica.

No, that is not what I call my man piece. But I think I may need to adopt that.

Chess in the Castro: Queen takes man piece.

And everyone wins at least once.

What what




In the Batcave.

Btw, that removed image was an undoctored screenshot from Batman and Robin.

That was Mr. Popeye and Southside Johnny covering The Swallows.

I can’t make that shit up.

Some URLs tell a story:

It’s ok. It happens to a lot of cell users.

College basketball season always gets me a little excited. I don’t ever plan on watching it, but part of me always holds out hope for this:


Wheezing the Jews = Pauly Shore + Matisyahu 4 ever.

Those two need to wake up and realize that they were made for each other. And that it’s a sin to date outside of your religion.

Back when that film came out, I’m pretty sure Weezer were still playing Bar Mitzvahs.

Btw, the number one Google image result for “Pauly Shore Jew” is this:

Every year around Hanukkah, I get a mild case of German guilt. I don't have a lot of German in me, but I have enough that if it came down to it, I'd have to go to a camp.

But then I think of this and I feel much better:


The pancake recipe I like to use suggests that you pair it with a Harvey Wallbanger or maybe some coffee.

I have one thing to say to Harvey: Go around. I cannot open the wall. I don’t know if you have a doorknob on the other side, but over here there’s nothing. It's just flat. Like pancakes.

I briefly looked into writing web content as a way to make some extra whiskey money.

Btw, plz sendd sum. Rite meyow.


They wanted me to write little how-to bits on subjects I’m generally not good at, and if each post didn’t have to be approved before it went up (and I got paid), I would’ve been all over that shit.

Q: How do I keep my windows from fogging up in the winter?

A: Stop fucking.


You can imagine my disappointment when that scene did not mark the beginning of a zombie apocalypse.

That would've made the film actually kinda watchable.

Q: How do I keep warm in the winter?

A: That’s what we call “natural selection.”

I kinda like bitter single Bono. I feel like I’m writing better. It’s like, you know how when the guy from Staind had a daughter and stopped taking all those drugs and it made me realize how shitty their music is?

Raise your hand if you’ve heard me say that joke before.

Ah, the internet.


AT&T stands for Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhh! Motherfucker!

And Telegraph, Inc.

Telegraph? Thank jebus. My TSP has been down for the longest time.

I don’t mind so much having a machine talk to me when I call tech support, it’s when it pretends to type and does the sound effect.

It’s not even a good sound effect. It sounds a bit like a computer masturbating.

I went to a tech high school, so I know that’s true.

Q: How do you bring the rate of population expansion under control?

A: Instead of a rattle and a pacifier, give each child a tricorder and a 7 sided die.

Guess who’s going to hell?

Apparently, Lou Gehrig isn’t the only one to have his own disease.

Q: Timbits are to doughnut balls as Lou Gehrig’s Disease is to…?

A: I’m going to hell.

When I die, I want to ask Jesus one thing:

Q: What’s wrong with being sexy?

To those of you who are offended at the notion of a sexy Jesus: The new testament is all about free love and the old testament makes repeated mention of bondage.

I learned about S&M from church when I was 6. And I recently found out that shit is real. I was cced on an email to “God Almighty.” His address is: almightygodxxx@(website).com

Give me your finger. My god. He’s like this.

I’ve done my job if I get at least one person to think “Now, Borat was funny. But Jesus fuck.”

Actually, it’s ok. God isn’t really like that. With all of the religions and prophets out there, he’s a bit of a deitywhore.


Christmas music sucks balls. Especially when it pretends to be pop.

It’s ok, NPR. I liked you when you weren’t trying to be cool. You don’t have to play The Kurt Elling Quartet featuring John McClaine.

Instead, I leave you with this:

Merry Christmas, bitches.


Team Aramrod

Come jiggle with me.