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.

http://blogs.amd.com/home/2010/09/22/getageek/

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.

Haiku:

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.

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.





Obviously.





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.

Srsly.

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?

Anyone?

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 Schrödinger’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:
http://www.visitcrestedbutte.com/



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.

Huh?

Wait. What?

Don't tell me.

...


Shit.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 6

Hello. My name is Bono. Aram likes to do drawrings.



I like to do drawlings.

If you’re looking for this to make sense, you’ve come to the wrong place.

“The highest purpose is to have no purpose at all. This puts one in accord with nature, in her manner of operation and all up in dat ass.”





Happy Holiday.



To those of you currently giving birth,

sometimes you can hate me before I even finish the joke.

September 19th is National Talk like a Pirate Day. For those who don’t speak the language, relax. I’m here to help.

Harpoon (n): Pirate girlybits

That’s all you need to know.

Putting a telescoping cylinder up against your face should be much hotter than it is.

I’ve been doing a lot of travelling and schmoozing with some big names in various VIP lounges.

Schmooze (v, Yiddish): To ooze schmutz.

You will never look at that word the same again.

I just returned from Washington. As much as I love it there, California has a great deal more pants-optional months.

If this isn’t really coherent, sorry. I’m still adjusting to the time change.

I could live in Seattle. I’d get a place with a skylight so I wouldn’t need electricity to experience irony.

The Skymall at the Salt Lake City airport sells a Swiss Army Book of Mormon.

I had an aisle seat and got a lot of ass.



Taken in Denver.

Mile High Club achieved.

Best thing heard over the airport PA: “Now paging passengers Porter and DefJam.”

Heir to the Def Jam fortune.

Or the Smuckers fortune.

I hope Def Jam broadcasts their specials in closed captioning.

I kinda want to carry on a bag that contains all of the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies, just to see what TSA does.

Current favorite Karaism: “I like when you dip things in chocolate.”

“Karaism” is a great word, because it simultaneously looks like a religion and a sexual event that lands you in the hospital. Few words can claim that.

I just had a Judaism.

“And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him…and clave the wood and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him.”

How can you tell me god doesn’t love gay people?

Funny-because-it-isn’t-a-stage name: Emily Hardoon

I’m the atheist who listens to Journey.

Just kidding. They fucking suck.

Sean Lennon look-alike contest:



Plastics secrete estrogen simulators. John Lennon knew something the rest of us didn’t.

I’m still waiting for Jay Z to collaborate with Christopher Lloyd





Is my Linkin Park shirt vintage yet?

I met an old lady with the last name Kronick. She isn't a Dre fan.

But she does smoke a lot. It is California, after all.

I found a gray hair, and I’m keeping it.

+2 Old Fuck points

I’m prone to making bad decisions. One of them involved dating someone who used to pluck out my gray hairs. She would also do my eyebrows.

No. She would pluck them.

I've been informed that a group of people wearing wheelchairs is suing Chipotle because the work station counter is too high. They can't see the people make their burritos, therefore denying them the complete Chipotle experience.

They should also sue boobs.

Or just wait a while.

Funny street name: Cougar Gap

I took a pen into Staples to ask the clerk why I couldn’t get it to work.

+8 Old Fuck points

I saw an oil painting of the ocean. Or it may have been a photograph.

I set my computer up in front of a window and set my desktop background as the view from that window so I won’t miss anything by looking down.

My feng shui is performance art. And my audience is me.

I call it, “Windows.”





That shit’s my jam. I have it as my ringtone.

Wheel of Fortune, Before and After: Cockringtone.

Free million dollar idea, btw.

This one will be in more of a traditional joke format to make it easier for you to steal:

What's the female equivalent of a cock ring?

Boxing ring.

I think I have a pigeon living above my window. Trying to analyze the turd.

Words that look similar in your peripheral vision (or unsuccessful business names):

• Baptist Rapist
• Dysentary Dentistry
• Typo Lypo
  

K, so that last one didn’t quite work. But I think I have the right to the word “Lypo” as long as serious writers are using the word “lite.”

And “k.”

I read a lot of shitty books, but even they have their bright moments:

“Being the older sister of 5 brothers, I am an expert on boy-stink.”

“…in the form of God, Jesus, Santa Claus and country.”

“It began to cause a lot of serious injuries by falling cows.”

All three are non-fiction, btw.

They also have their shitty moments, like a chapter entitled “Cats and more cats.”

The title is efficient, though. I’ll give it that. In 4 words, I know both what it’s all about and that I don’t want to read it.

Hemingway was famous for his 6 word flash fiction, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Perhaps I’ll be famous for my 2 word flash fiction, “Total sideboob.”

This is a scholarly blog, so let’s analyze the mechanics. Those two words provide or imply: a well-drawn character with age, voice, desires and perhaps gender (at least sexual orientation). There is action (when you’re that age, that’s action), tension and release (but that comes later. I go one step further to imply a sequel story with no words, but maybe a moan at the end). Even the sentence that orients us to the exercise itself ends up adding to the story and redefining the genre. I may have just found the two most powerful words in the English language.

Suck it, Hemingway.

Funny name: Tony Locoboni

I could write a book: Names That Will Get Your Kid’s Ass Kicked. But no one would publish that kind of thing. I’d end up having to self-publish, and the only one who would buy it would be my mother.

Current mood: Thunderstruck.

Remember Myspace?

Remember your Myspace password?



“Blogosphere” is misleading. Mine is a rectangle.

Real news story:

12:00 AM

100 percent chance of showers

Avery Willett uses an umbrella to protect herself from her brother, Hunter, who was armed with a garden hose while playing Tuesday with friend Jackson Lee in a kiddie pool at their home in Waterville.

Aren’t we at war?

Yes, we still are. Pay attention.

Debriefing (v): A precursor to what the army does to you

Our generation is much different from that of our parents. To them, “Nom” represents something dangerous. To us, it represents something delicious.

I love a good language barrier. Here are a few recent cases:

• We’ve been having a 24 day relationship for 2 years by now.
• I pretend to make money. A lot of it.

People should give me money so I could become a philanthropist. My charities would include

• Casiotones for Ice Cream Truck Drivers
• Cookie Monster Eyes for the Blind

And no, I won’t be one of those douchebag comics who would list

• Bluetooths for the homeless

They’d be happy just to have regular teeth.

Perhaps the other end of the tooth fairy transaction is some kind of government subsidized bio recycling program. As noble as that would be, it wouldn’t help the homeless to better assimilate into society. People with large gums and small teeth weird me the fuck out.

I’m sorry kids, but times are tough, and I just don’t see the tooth family having a place in Obamacare.

With the economy in shambles and people not buying anything, we just need to find something that’ll sell like hotcakes. Like hotcakes. Unfortunately, the monopoly on that lies in the hands of IHOP, an international company. We need to take that shit back. Start the National House of Pancakes. Inside, we will serve one type of pancakes: blueberries in one corner and strawberries and whipped cream on the rest. Fucking American pancakes. We will have Prince as our spokesman, but he will change his name to Vice President, or maybe even Congressman. He will make pancakes sexy and we will buy even more of them. The downward spiral is no more, because an upward spiral is how you stack pancakes.

That, or the bankers could just stop stealing from us.



Pay attention.

You may wonder how I can sleep at night after writing stuff like this. It’s quite easy, actually. I remain comforted knowing that somewhere there exists a porno named Sandra’s Bullocks.

I’d like to be superstitious. It sounds like fun. But whenever I try to be superstitious, it never turns out like I want. As a result, I am superstitiously not superstitious.

Superstitious.

Beatlejuice Beatlejuice Beatlejuice.

I took up religion just for the sects.



Hug the devil.

I went to a tiki bar and got lei’d. It was nice. I hadn’t been lei’d in a while. I think it was before the last time I got fucked.

And now, this month’s installment of Not a Porn Site:
http://www.wjzm.com/localprograms/theboneshow.php

You can’t make this stiff up.

(Freudian typo)

To all of my loyal botanical bromatologist readers: I need help.

Is a gherkin pickle veal? I need to know whether or not to feel offended.

The Toadies have a new album.

You know how when you’re taking a pee,

which is an erroneous term. You’re really leaving pee behind. If you were taking pee, I wouldn’t want to associate with you. Or I’d be paying you a lot of money because my ass doesn’t have medical insurance.

and you’re getting to the end, almost when you have to squeeze, and it starts to sound like R2D2?

I’m proposing that we all start calling that “robot pee.”





Remind me never to see a shrink. This shit is too much fun to fix.

G-20

Bajingo!

This jigglybit is a bit shorter. I don’t want any of you women getting a false sense of reality.

Or you men.

Dartmouth (n): 1) The condition of having a pointed tongue. 2) The condition of having herpes

It also sounds like a paranormal medical condition in which your jaw takes off running. Kinda like in Victorian times when strong, independent women were diagnosed with a wandering va jay jay. I believe the cure was to burn them.



History is sexy.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 5

vs. Aram Fresh

In an effort to continue the idea of having continuity in posts that appear upwards of a month apart:

Poking fun at clergy is not the main reason I’m going to hell. But clergy poking for fun is why they’re going to hell.

I’m getting enough mileage out of that comparison that I decided to make things easier for us and consolidate.

Funny name: Mrs. Slutzki

An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but a

a day means you have to get a quick shot.

If apples keep away doctors, what brings the nurses?

Disease. They are medical professionals, after all.

Cheesestick (n): the result of too many Pink Ladies.

Ah, Kanye.

Cheese sandwich (n): The female cheesestick

(n):

In an attempt to have a real relationship with this girl I was banging, I set aside a night for us to play Scrabble, drink tea and just enjoy each other’s company. She set up the board and I pulled my 7 pieces, careful not to let her see what I could lay down: AVAGINA.

Brown chicken, brown cow.

It’s funny how implied bestiality is more socially acceptable than the word fuck.

Those who pay attention to punctuation may notice that what they’re reading is textual intercourse.

Go back and look. I’ll wait.

Or perhaps, considering that I’m the only one writing (unsolicited, I might add), you’re really witnessing word self-gratification.

My technique is refined.

As an active nerd, I want an animated gf.

I’m a sentimental guy, one who appreciates a moment of real connection with someone special, usually with good background music that helps us openly express our feelings.

Hold me.

Whoa. I thought a bird just ran into my window, but it really just delivered the largest avian crap I’ve ever seen.

I have to tweet this.

Follow Aram’s Twitter so you can keep up to date on his laundry:

• Laundromat. It’s a pants party, and if you’re not downstairs, you’re not invited.
• It’s true what they say. The penis mightier.
• Though my diet hasn’t changed, I’ve been passing gas authoritatively over the past four days. Should I call the doctor?

I’d like to post a door on my Facebook wall @thinking-how-the-hell-I’m-going-to-get-outside-the-box

Gay men think outside the box.

I think it’s necessary to capitalize “Facebook.” Otherwise, it becomes real.

facebook (n): Colonel Angus

Colonel Angus (translation: Spanish): Papi Chow

How many of you are on facebook right now?

@multitasking

Cockroaches (n): The final stage of crabs.

It’s no coincidence “exterminators” so closely follows “escort services” in the phone book.

1. Wait. The phone what? You’re not making sense.
2. Wait. You’re saying…that Mexican song I used to sing as a kid…

Regina (v) – Female sex change reversal

I eat a lot of rice, and if you eat rice, so do you. No one eats just one rouse. You have to eat a lot of them for anything to happen. It’s the most inefficient food ever. But fucking delicious.

A mamosa would be champagne and milk.

Milk is an excellent appetite suppressant. And quite better for you than cigarettes. Next time you’re at the bar, skip the middleman and have a Caucasian.

Again, shit I’m not getting paid to think of.

And thankfully, shit Aram isn’t getting paid to draw.

I went from a miserable 9-5 to a glorious 7(EST)-5(PST) that makes very little money. Living the dream.

Pizza and beer for breakfast in bed in my underwear, working.

There’s a triathlon on. Which mean’s there’s a quadrathlon.

I sure hope they’re able to athlon. They’re trying awful hard.

The perfect quadrathlon would be like a triathlon, but they have to play badminton afterward. By itself, that game doesn’t require much coordination or strength. But after all that swimming and whatnot, it would be a true test of human endurance.

Sean Taro Ono Lennon Belushi

What does everyone say when Marilyn Monroe walks into a bar?

“Holy crap! It’s Marilyn Monroe! Isn’t she dead? Am I freaking out, man?”

Wrong. The correct answer is:

“NORMA!”

If heaven exists, it’s a bar with Marilyn Monroe, Cliff Burton and Sam Malone (the DJ on KHMX Houston Radio, but he has to die first).

Once you record a laugh track, that shit is forever. It can be used over and over again, which is why I have never tried out to be on one. I wouldn’t like to contribute to people thinking that The King of Queens is funny.

I like Cheers, because they tell you right in the beginning that it is filmed in front of a live, studio audience that has been bribed with free cokes and maybe even beverages.

It was the 80’s, after all.

I wonder if some of those old school fuckheads who refused to laugh at Ellen know that the chuckles they did give are now being used in any sitcom on network TV.

Free million dollar idea: microwave ringtones.

Or at least a microwave with a volume control, because jesus fuck.

Dairy products are almost reason enough to believe in a god. I have therefore determined that the lagging number of teens and young adults attending church is directly attributed to a lack of sufficient snack food. That is the period in your life in which you are usually growing the most and eating in a correlated amount. That is also the period in your life in which you are growing the most and smoking in a correlated amount. And if you’ve had enough hits that you start to see Jesus, then you’re going to want some cheese and crackers. Or nachos, depending upon your denomination.

I knew a pothead who is now a Christian minister, which makes no sense. Don’t potheads usually love themselves?

Rastafarian preachers are men of the hemp.

I think Christians’ decision to name their clergy “Pastor” is a big middle finger toward the Jews who cannot enjoy proper Mexican food.

That’s fucked up, people. You aren’t practicing your message of peace, love and pork products.

Pork products (n): Children

Funny name: George R Weiner

Funnier name: George, R Weiner

Just want to make you comma.

One picture I failed to take was of: G Spot Dog Kennel for trucks.

Animal husbandry (v):

I just googled Freud.

No, no, no. Barry Dick.

Barry! Barry! Barry!

It’s July, my roommate works for mosquito control, and if I really wanted to, I could scare the fuck out of you right now.

Just make sure you cover up, stay inside around dusk and spray yourselves with plenty of

Heidi. What’s your hetero life mate’s name?

Describe the female cast of Baywatch.

I had to straight up move before I found matches to some of my socks. Only some, though. The rest are in Narnia. And even though I usually wear pants, I can't mis-match my socks. No one else would notice, but it would be like lying to myself. That problem stems from my childhood, when all of my tube socks matched, except for the stripes at the top. And I didn’t have duplicates of any of the colors, partly because my parents didn’t stick to any one brand. So, if I had two pair of dark blues, they would be different shades. Once or twice, I actually did have two pair where the color matched, but one had two stripes while the other had three. Or the width of the stripes varied.

Parents take note: You can fuck up your kid with your choice of socks.

I want to kidnap my dad and take him skydiving, just to see what sorts of words he comes up with.

You won't find that on Shit My Dad Says.

Happy Father's Day.



I’m sorry if you don’t get that one, but I refuse to use footnotes. The joke is so far inside, you’d better hope it’s wearing a rubber.

It is, btw. I don’t bare-nyuck.

I'm not quite sure what that means, but I think I need to go take a shower.

I saw an ad that said, “Give your dad a Droid for Father’s Day.” Um, no. Bad idea. He isn’t comfortable with texting, let alone all of the various what-have-you. And if he did get a Droid, he’d probably name it R2. No. Fuck that. I get to name mine R2.

It would certainly help for when I lose the thing.

+4 Nerd Points. And if you got that, you can have 3 of them.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 4

Includes Aram Fresh. Never Aram Frozen.

Sorry for leaving off on a cliffhanger last time. Contrary to popular belief, your family was not started when Uncle Fester farted. Uncle Fester had been secretly banging Morticia the entire time (it’s no coincidence Pugsley looks just like him). But seeing how Fester comes from her side of the family, they all in fact came out retarded.

Those wacky Adamses.



Adams. Adams. 5’7” weighed about 200.



I heard that, motherfucker couldn’t see his dick.

Someone called me “a sarcastic scatter-brained asshole.”

!

@:D

(_!_)

























:>()<

(That one's a penguin).

I appreciate back-handed compliments almost as much as front-handed insults.

A friend asked me what she should wear for going on the radio.

Wait a minute.

WTF do you wear to go on the radio?

Saliva has a greatest hits cd. It’s a single.

I love sneezing at the resonant frequency of my guitar. It’s amusing. Like farting on a snare drum.



One of my band mates is a girl I call “Puffy,” for obvious reasons. She then felt charged to come up with a nickname for me and asked for suggestions.

“How about Bono?”

She totally said yes.



How come a rapper hasn’t used this as a euphemism yet?

It recently came to my attention that death needn’t get in the way of collaboration.





Lil John Lennon says, “End the war, bitches.”

Although I’m bummed at having to add “Funkadelic” to my spell check dictionary, I’m thrilled that it still offers the correction “star bucks.”

A grown ass woman – “What makes the water hot?”

I don’t like the Starbucks cup because when the java jacket

which is a stupid term. I think we should adopt something else, like coffee muff.

when the muff starts to slip off, which will inevitably happen, no matter how hard I jam it up in there, I’m not quite sure for a split second whether it’s the muff slipping down or the lid popping off.

Coffee is so fucking dirty. Ask those who pick it.

So, I try to avoid getting my coffee “to go” because most often I don’t go far. It seems like a waste. I may walk a few paces and then sit down to enjoy my coffee while it’s still hot. At that point, I am not going anywhere. And then I start to feel like a failure, one more useless prick with an English degree sitting in a coffee shop with a paper cup in my hand like I’m fucking Magellan, when the only “to going” I’m about to do involves carrying the cup to join its brethren in the trash can on my way out.

Yet, it’s not the gluttony of our natural resources or the acceleration of global warming that keeps me from using a paper cup, it’s the feeling of impending doom in the form of scalding my pinky when I experience muff slippage. I don’t like that uncertainty. When I put something in a cup, I want to make sure the motherfucker will stay in there until I am ready to tip it up between my lips and let gravity work its magic. I do not take caffeine through my hand.

I very much prefer drinking from a ceramic cup. In fact, I may be the only straight man under 30 on the planet who has a collection of antique teacups from around the world. And because refusing to put liquid in a vessel is like slapping it in the face, I make it a point to use them fairly regularly. Those cups have traveled thousands of miles, survived revolutions and changed hands too many times to sit unused. And just like how vinyl sounds better and real books smell better, coffee and tea from an antique cup tastes much better. Kind of like opium money. And quite possibly lead paint.

I like drinking white tea, even though green tea tastes better. White tea is the tea equivalent of veal, and I like the idea of maybe getting someone pissed off at a leaf.

Tea and toast are quite good together. Whomever invented that combination should find the genius who first paired potatoes and tomatoes and do battle. Tasty, tasty battle.

Tea and toast would win because although potatoes would bruise pretty badly, tea would scald the fuck out of you. Tomatoes would just be annoying. And toast delicious.

This is the kind of shit I don’t get paid to think of.

Rooibos is delicious, but unfortunately named.

“Hey, Phil. You remember Chastity from history class?”
“You kidding? Bitch left me with a raging case of Rooibos.”

This is where I openly give the finger to every douchebag who has ever used the “I like my women like I like my coffee” line.

Immediately after handing over my phone to the repairman, I saw what may be the world’s best license plate:



+



=

“JZNTIME.”

That’s when “mashup” doesn’t refer to mixing songs together.

Having euphemisms for sex is really fucking stupid, considering it is one of the most common compulsory actions among life forms, plants included.







Still, it sure is fun. The euphemisms, too. Here’s a new one for you:

What did the brown chicken say to the brown cow?
Let’s fuck.

I bought some generic brand raisins, and the box has a drawing of some black raisins in front of some green grapes. I guess the 39 cents I saved was in botanical accuracy.

It’s tax time.

Right?

…

And while everyone is giggling over “Are you blind” or whether or not you expect to be a widower next year, I’m contemplating checking the “Ottoman Turkish Empire Settlement Payment” box.

Investing in clothing means letting people laugh at your acid-wash wearing ass for about 20 years.

Yes, I’m still bringing back on old jokes you’ve probably forgotten about.



A sharpie is the manliest possible highlighter.

“What’s that intoxicating scent you’re wearing?”
“Chorizo.”
“Come to Papi.”

The smell of a bright summer day always makes me nostalgic for fabric softener.

Perhaps boogers have one of the strongest odors ever, but we’re just used to it.

For those of you who don’t think our humor is intelligent:



It's not high-brow or low-brow. It's manic-depressive-brow.

The name, “Tiff,” sounds like a speech impediment. Or an uncompressed image file.

First Kierkegaard, then Nordenbrock. Friends, don’t make me wait till your funeral to learn your embarrassing middle names.

One recently deceased friend shows up on facebook every time I log on. Today, under his photo read “Reconnect with him.” My peripheral vision read “Resurrect him.”

I do. Whenever I cook with chevre, I sing “The Love Goat,” if only in my head.

I miss you, buddy.

Funny ninja name: Mitsu Miyagi

I made ninja salsa. It starts out smooth and rather refreshing, but then it bites when it goes down.

Sometimes I don’t even have to finish the joke.

FEEED MYYYYYYYYYYY



GERTRUDE STEIIIIIIIN!

Gertrude Stein – “This Alice Cooper you speak of. Is she hot?”

HUNGRY FOR LOVE AND IT’S READING TIME!

If you haven’t gathered, the aim of this blog is to provide a service to the female population. I’m reducing your sea by one fish. You’re welcome.

And if you’re the kind who gets the slightest bit turned on when someone says “put the punctuation inside the quotation,” then you’ve found your fish.

Dear Katy Perry,

I too use cherry Chapstick. And no, you may not have any.

Kisses,
Bono

A Scottish radical feminist burns other people’s bras.

You know. Because they cost money, and stuff. And we’re cheap.

Look! Shiny object!


Team Player

Though it’s not exactly nerdxcore material, you have to admit, that shit is perfect for a T-Shirt.

I like the Blackberry because it comes with a holster that easily clips to my pajamas.

Working from home is fucking great. Especially now, because it’s gearing up to be summer, and I’m saving a ton of money on deodorant.

How do people in Mississippi keep time?

“One us. Fuck. Too short. This clock’s gonna be fast.”

It’s that famous Southern punctuality.

This has become a bit of a tradition every year since I first jiggled:



Happy Mother’s Day, Shaft.

I’ll translate the rest of the blog for my Spanish-speaking readers:

Juevos Benedict.

Every once in a while, something from a blog long past will become relevant in international media:



=



Cuando Benedict y amigos estan tocando los juevos de niños, the Lutheran Church just abolished all anti-gay policies.

Oh, yeah.

You know what that means.

Two girls.

One chalice.

Seriously, though. Bravo. It took you motherfuckers long enough.

For those of you playing The Jigglybits home game



Lutheran clergymen are allowed to marry and have families, making them honest to God motherfuckers.

That kind of comment is not the biggest reason why I’m going to hell.

Few bumper stickers are as effective as the Make A Wish star on a slow-moving vehicle.

You laughed. I’ll keep a seat warm for you.