Live By The Sword, Die By The Axe Body Spray...

When you kick the bucket, it will be the very last thing you ever do on this planet, and your cause of death will be what people remember for a long time after you're gone. That is why your final exit can be such an embarrassment if you do it the wrong way.

In an effort to help you avoid "going out like bitch", here's a list of the most humiliating ways to croak; steer clear of these when you're ready to depart:

Getting crushed by poorly-mounted plasma TV over your bed

Ceilings above beds are for mirrors, not TVs. Duh.

Drowning in a teaspoon of water

"A baby can drown in a teaspoon of water." I am certain you have heard this little bit of home-spun wisdom countless times. But can you imagine being that baby? A teaspoon of water!? How embarrassing. That's such a small of amount of water. Just roll over, stupid baby.

Getting your picture taken with a tiger

Unless you killed it with your bare hands, why? You want a photo of you with a tiger so bad, I have Photoshop- call me. I'll put you in a picture with two tigers and Gary Busey riding a fucking unicorn—whatever you want. I can even airbrush out your deep-set eyes and drool, retard.

Old Age

Get out there and do something. How humiliating is it to have spent 70+ years on this planet and not have done anything exciting enough to kill you.

Cutting yourself while shaving...your balls

There are two things that should never come near your naked balls, guys... a baby and a twin blade disposable.

Re-enacting a stunt from "Jackass"

I don't care what anyone says, and I am probably going to hell for it, but the video of the kid trying to jump the car like he saw on "Jackass" is fucking hysterical. Now, before you judge me, the truth is I don't particularly enjoy watching people get injured. I don't own any Faces of Death videos, and I get a little queasy when I see people getting hurt on shows like "Scarred". But seeing that idiot kid cartwheel through the air after getting hit by the car, followed immediately by the people behind the camera gasping as if this was some totally unforeseeable turn of events, gives me fits of laughter.

Like Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction

Bottom line - it's embarrassing to die on the toilet, but getting shot with your own gun is just added shame.

  

As a Suicide Bomber

Thinking you'll get props from Allah after driving your exploding car into a mall, only to learn the horrible truth that you'll be forced to choose between being boiled in molten lead for all of eternity or watching Short Circuit 2 five times.

Like Goose in Top Gun

There are only 40 worse ways to go out than snapping your neck while ejecting during a training exercise so Tom Cruise can overact his way through the last forty minutes of a movie.

Bleeding out following an adult circumcision

Just let that foreskin flap, homie. You can always tell chicks to look at what you've got under the hood.

Drowning during your Born-Again Baptism

Boy, going to all the trouble of alienating all your old friends for Jesus is hard enough, but not even having the opportunity to enjoy years of self-righteous condescension is just a kick in the box.  

 

Severing a major artery while trying to open a can of tuna fish

After stinking up the entire break room with the reek of that nasty-ass cat food, maybe you deserve this fate.

Like Vic Morrow

Getting your head cut off by a helicopter while acting in a shitty movie. Actually, three people died—two of them were six-year old siblings. But we all learned a lesson about racism, didn't we? 

  

Getting eaten by a shark

If you've been eaten by a shark and you're anyone other than a survivor of a shipwreck a la the USS Indianapolis—where was your fucking head? As far as preventable deaths go, this is right at the top. It's not like sharks go wading ashore to attack sun-burned white people at the beach. Human beings were not put on this Earth for the purpose of swimming around in the Pacific within range of primordial beasts with giant teeth. They're there. We're here. Why not

keep it like that?   

Chaffing yourself to death with one-ply toilet paper

There certain products in which price should not be an object. Shit tickets are not one of them. The USSR crumbled for a lack of two-ply, you know.

Slipping on a banana peel

Who are you? Magilla Gorilla?Who dies because of slipping on a banana peel? You dumbass. Was it an Acme Banana Peel? Did Wile E. Coyote put it there? Elmer Fudd? Did a piano fall on you afterwards?

Fishing

I'm not talking about those guys who fish for sword fish in the middle of the ice-cold ocean or the guys from "Deadliest Catch". Those guys are MACHINES. I

am talking about recreational fishing. I read a story about a guy in Europe a few years ago who had hooked some big ole fish while sitting on the beach somewhere. He refused to let the beast go and it dragged him out into knee deep water. His last words before being pulled under and drowned by an animal without arms, legs, any discernible weapons, and a big hook in it's mouth: "I got 'em now!" The fish was never found. How humiliating.

  

From Athlete's Foot

I've seen the commercials, and if those flames caught your pants on fire, you could die. That would be terrible. I'm surprised it hasn't happened before.  

Failing to seek medical attention after four-hour erection

And why are you taking Viagra anyway? The day a man stops getting constant erections ought to be a day for celebration.

Like William Rehnquist

Telling your friend that she should go ahead and retire because you can make it through the next year, then dying anyway. Whoops.

 

Getting bludgeoned by your children

It says something about your parenting skills when one, or both, of your kids takes a ball peen hammer to your skull. And yes, it's your fault if it happens.

  

Being crushed in your multi-million dollar house in a mudslide

You're not the impoverished victims of the Haiti disaster. You're just some rich ass-wipe who built a house in a stupid place. I don't want to see your fucking sad face on TV asking for help if you happen to survive either. Buy a house on

solid ground, you fucking megalomaniac.

  

Like Cheng...or was it Eng??

Dying of fear because your Siamese twin brother just died and you're attached

to his corpse . Jee-zus. This would really, really, really, really, really suck. Oh,

and it's okay to call them Siamese, because Cheng and Eng were Siamese, you

over-sensitive bitches.

Strangling on the finish line tape at the end of a marathon

Does anyone feel dirty after chuckling at the Gatorade commercial where the dude is wobbling and falling at the end of a triathlon like those sows with Mad Cow Disease? Me either. That shit is hilarious.

Like Roy Horn

What exactly do you expect when you try to make an enormous wild animal wear a Luftwaffe helmet and ride a bicycle? Just because you have absolutely no shame or pride doesn't mean that cat doesn't have any self-respect.

A tragic Bowflex accident

The most embarrassing thing about it is that you actually own a Bowflex. Seriously, who shells out two thousand dollars for fake exercise equipment? Lift a fucking weight.  

  

While climbing Mt. Everest

This is all risk and no reward. It was cool the first time someone did it, and ever since it has been a total waste of time. I mean you can take fucking helicopter to the top if you want to see it so bad... and if you don't make it, you died doing something that Sherpas do as their job. Really impressive, you rock climbing asswipe.

Looking down the barrel of a gun to see if it's loaded

Which is pretty equivalent to getting hit by a car because you weren't looking as you crossed the street.

Getting your head cut off by a Hall of Fame running back

Becomes even more embarrassing when everybody and their mom knows he's

guilty and he walks anyway. And when Howard Stern makes jokes about it for

the next decade.

  

Axe Body Spray Poisoning

You can spray all the glorified deodorant on yourself as you want, but it isn't going to get you laid. You are an idiot, and you are broke. You know how I know? Because men with jobs wear cologne.

Whichever way Jay Leno dies

If any single event can stop or at least slow down the degeneration of American society, it would be Jay Leno's removal from the mortal coil. His jokes would be funnier attached to his tombstone, too.

And I have a surprise, kids... Because I know most of you are already totally off balance, I wanted to even things out by mentioning what, in my opinion, are the most uber awesome ways to bite the dust:

~ Of wounds sustained in a triumphant battle with a dragon.

~ Leaping into an exploding volcano.

~ Purposely crashing your spaceship into the sun.

~ Riding a nuclear bomb out the belly of a B-52.

~ Getting sucked into a super black hole.

~ Catching a lightening bolt in your hands to save a baby.

~ Choking on Gus Hansen's pe.... um... never mind that one.

We've Come A Long Way, Baby...

Ladies, we should be so proud of ourselves... We are strong, independent and successful. We hold positions of power, run Fortune 500 companies and best of all, we have one night a week at local dive bars dedicated specifically to us. We get free well liquor and cheap beer, which we drink from little plastic cups for several glorious hours. Looks like we've finally made it!

I thought we would forever go unappreciated in the eyes of men – centuries of being oppressed, holed up in the house only permitted to cook, clean and churn out babies. But all is not lost. Ladies Night is the thanks and gratitude we’ve been searching for all these years. Forget equal pay and opportunities, the comfort of not being sexually harassed at work, or being praised for our minds, not out bodies. Cheap liquor and watered-down beer is enough to set our minds at ease and make up for all the demeaning behavior we’ve had to endure.

I have never felt more appreciated and honored than stepping foot into a dingy bar, slipping on a paper wristband and waiting 45 minutes for my first complimentary beverage. I am so grateful for the free booze, you can be sure I’ll sleep with any guy that comes my way. And when I have enough liquid thanks coursing through my blood, I’ve even been known to celebrate this feminine victory with another fellow honoree by taking off my shirt, making out with her and dancing on the bar. There’s no better way to display my new-found female dominance than by towering over my male subordinates while performing a spontaneous and seductive dance. I am woman, watch me chug.

With swelling pride, I gladly attend these celebratory nights. For the first time, I know there are no ulterior motives to these events. We women are in the spotlight. And to all those men who come to our night (and there are so many of you, sometimes even out numbering us), I want to thank you for recognizing our worth. I can see the sparkle in your eyes and read the zeal in your faces – reflections of your appreciation. Even offering to chauffeur me home after the open bar; it shows that you aren’t afraid to take up the less appealing position of caregiver, a position that in the past has only been ours. That alone is enough to make me forgive and forget the centuries of being made to feel inferior. Now we’re finally equals.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Your Mother Has Nightmares About...

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Last time, we took a look at the scary dating prospects facing single women. Lest we forget, dating is a two-way street. Guys are faced with a similiarly dysfunctional crop of potential partners, some of whom are no more than tit-laden cock holsters and others that could induce impotence with a mere glance. Let's meet the ladies...

Heather
Age 36, Elementary School Teacher

You are bound to meet at least one teacher in the dating arena; they are beginning to outnumber illegal immigrants. It may be tempting to play out your dirty fantasy involving a hot teacher you had in high school, but resist the urge. This girl is probably willing to take it up the tailpipe and she’ll pretend to like everything you enjoy, like football or imported beer. But she’s just trying to lull you into submission. She’ll wear down your guard with crotchless panties and chocolate-flavored Anal-Ease, but once you’ve seen her naked, the casual dating phase is over. Her biological clock is pounding, she’s going Corky-Thatcher about turning 40 soon, and she’ll try to condense a three-year relationship into six months. After your third date, you’ve got tampons in your bathroom and holes in your condoms. Everything revolves around kids and her fairytale wedding. There’s no changing her mind, so don’t even bother. She won’t rest until there are five little snot-factories crying non-stop and shitting themselves like they breathe Ex-Lax. And you’ll be paying for them. You think she can afford to support her litter of brats on a teacher’s salary? Unless you’ve had a vasectomy or are an illegal immigrant in need of a green card, don’t risk a date with this one.

Jenn (yes, with two n’s)
Age 28, Hairdresser/Esthetician/Part-Time Student
One look at this girl and you’d be embarrassed to stand up in front of your grandmother. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, on the cutting edge of semi-slutty fashion, and—since it’s her job—is probably as well-groomed pubicly speaking, as the green at Pebble Beach. Nevermind the fact that she’s on her fourth community college in three years (pursuing her teaching degree, ironically) or that she can quote lines from Legally Blonde. Nope, you overlook all the obvious warning signs as Sergeant Schlong orders his 3rd Sperm Battalion to march north and occupy your brain, forcing Commander Commonsense to surrender.

It’s not until you’re spending your weekends watching marathons of "Gossip Girls" in her studio apartment with her Golden Retriever, Puddles, that you realize you’re dating a completely vapid and totally useless collection of molecules, held together by low-rise jeans, hair dye, and 7 coats of mascara. By then, it’s too late. You’re doomed to spend your days discussing how she had to de-fur a fat Greek woman at work, or which sunless tanning product gives her the “most natural” orange hue. Enjoy that, Chief. Your best bet is to learn how to ejaculate from forehead stimulation, become one of her clients, and wear two pairs of boxers when you go for a haircut. You may think this is tantamount to prostitution, but you’re wrong. Hookers charge extra for a shampooing.

Kelly
Age 23, Administrative Assistant

This recent graduate sports an impressive resume and a spectacular rack. Her librarian-like glasses are the stuff of fantasy and your dirty mind runs wild at the thought of banging her in her office’s conference room. You love the fact that she enjoys drinking as much as you do and still has that college frat-party mentality. She has a hot roommate and you’re pretty sure that they’ve shared intimate moments of sweet love during their frequent blackout-level binge drinking. You have wild sex at least twice a day and she usually passes out without any post-sex small talk. Everything seems fantastic. You’re happier than a pedophile at Chucky Cheese. However, when you discover her MySpace profile and see that she has 1893 friends (and by “friends”, I mean shirtless guys flexing) who leave comments like, “Hey hun, luv the new pix. When u gonna come up again? That night wuz awesome” you realize the ugly truth. Your girlfriend is a complete whore. She’s had more semen on her than a fleet of aircraft carriers. In college, she was voted “Most Likely to be Gang-Banged Publicly”—an award that she still has in sorority scrapbook. Continue to date her and you’ll inevitably find out that the star of your little brother's favorite amateur porn video,  "XXX_Sexy_hot_webcam_amateur_college_drunk_teen_sorority_slut_bangs_guy_in_bathroom.mpeg” is actually her. And she's the one who gave your brother his copy.




Meghan
Age 27, Marketing Associate

At first, she’s the Mercedes-Benz of single women. Sophisticated and sexy, she has class dripping out her ass. You’re actually a little intimidated by how focused and organized she seems to be. It’s probably that intimidation that makes her so attractive that you become immediately infatuated, even overlooking her full cheeks and thighs—a definite sign that she may pork up once she becomes “comfortable” in a relationship. Against your better judgment—and aside from your friends’ photoshopped images of her head on Ricki Lake’s body—you actively pursue a full-blown relationship. You poor, stupid fuck. Unlike Jay-Z, you now have 99 problems and the bitch IS one.

I feel bad for you, Son. You forgot to ask the one question every girl asks a potential mate, but every guy seems to overlook: you never asked about her last relationship. If you had, you would have discovered that her fiancé just broke off the engagement and moved to Hotlanta to pursue his dream of starting a record label. Under her cool and composed exterior, this caterpillar will emerge from her cocoon as a shark with a gun for a mouth. She’s so mad at men that she can’t even look at her father, but she has to prove to herself that she’s still the stuff of wet dreams. She won’t be ready for a relationship for at least a year, and you’re way too early on the rebound to reap any of the “re-discovering promiscuous sex phase” benefits. Too bad her little excursion into ego restoration comes at the expense of your pride.

I hope you can write off all those expensive dinners as “business expenses.”

A Few Bad Men...

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Lick THIS, United States Post Office!

Can you think of anything that requires the use of bodily fluids to function? Sure, there's Blondgirl McGlittertits, a hybrid human who runs on cocaine and semen, but I'm talking about something we use every day that needs liquid produced by our bodies to work.

Why, in a time when we can see the textured glisten of a fresh turd in digital clarity while a tranny greedily gulps it down; and watch an entire season of "Perfect Strangers" in a single sitting, are we still using saliva to adhere a stamp to an envelope?

You don't have to pick your nose and rub it all over your tax returns (and believe me, it doesn't make the IRS want to audit you any less). You don't take a dump on your license renewal form. The United States Post Office is the only government agency that relies on spit to function.

Sure, you can get those fancy new sticker stamps, but only if you buy stamps by the gross. And I don't know anyone so in love with their prison pen pal to go through that many stamps. For most of us, it's buy a stamp at the post office for the one thing we're there to mail. Then you put your coins in the machine and pull out a lickable document that will get your minimum credit card payment to Omaha by Thursday.

Envelopes aren't getting off the hook either. They've got to have a lick to work, and that's just medieval. Some envelope companies have come out with the peel-off adhesive areas. Genius. Why is this still the exception and not the rule?????

Pick out a greeting card, any of them: "Sorry I Touched You There, Nephew,"
"Congratulations On Your Retirement - Religious," "Happy Birthday, Butcher," it doesn't matter, chances are, your good intentions will be accompanied by an envelope you slobbered all over......

Moisture-activated adhesive was invented in 367 B.C. by the Chinese. Granted, the adhesive was saliva itself. Still, it should have been replaced by a superior invention centuries ago. Or, if it's so perfect, why not use it everywhere. Instead of Post-it notes, walls should be finished with lickable adhesive. Then we could lick the wall and slap a normal piece of paper up there to remind ourselves to throw out our Post-it notes.

Decades ago, when people took the time and effort to dream up a slick future scenario for a novel or film, information delivery was window dressing. "Of course licking stamps and envelopes will be obsolete by 1984", writers assumed. Even in crappy 60s sci-fi, in which robots looked like water heaters, mail was delivered via a system of "futuristic" vacuum tubes. The banks caught on, while the USPS is still relying on us for a tonguing. It's just stupid.

Sure, bodily fluids comes in handy for many personal uses that may never have been intended – spit works for spot grooming, shoe shining, light torture (a la the saliva yo-yo) and urine is good for extinguishing small fires, arctic calligraphy and hot sex - but the parcel industry needs our secretions??? I submit no - it does not.

When are we going to wake up and scream, "I'm done frenching my mail!"

Only then will we, as a society, be able to go about our bill paying, credit card applying, thank you note sending lives with a shred of dignity. Take a stand.

Eatabagadix, Match.com...

Screw Match.com...  I'll say it again - if I wanted to dig through 96 emails from douchebags to find 1 or 2 messages from a halfway decent guy, I'd check my own inbox and save myself 24 bucks a month.

I have a new method of finding my knight in shining disco pants. PERSONALS ADS! Yup... back to basics, kids.  I was thinking of posting something along the lines of...


SBLOTCHYF seeking whatever, really. Must meet or exceed the following minimum expectations:

Looking for jerks in that kind of deliberately-cool sense. Bonus if you have a pompadour or skater cut you can flip while being one. Cripples are encouraged (emotional okay, physical preferred) and interesting scarring patterns are a definite bonus. Librarians are also encouraged to reply, but just if the only time I hear about said librarianship is when the words are coming out of my mouth as I am introducing you to my super-cool friends at a party. Then you will be subjected to me going “HOT, right? RAWWRR,” and winking. A combination of crippled jerk librarian is ideal, but not totally necessary.

No tramp stamps... I've got that covered.

Pole or hole or both at once, and that’s me being neither politically correct OR perverted. I am serious AND I have a signed piece of paper from three (3) sexually-ambiguous people backing this up.

You must be excited by the idea of owning a gold Jetski without immediately needing to say something stupid like, “But you realize a gold Jetski would immediately sink, right?”

Other preferences include: minimal eye contact, a hatred of furries, appreciation of and frequent use of Rule 34, telling me I don’t look a day over 48, the ability to lick the back of your knee, a GED and a McMansion (these last two items must be both or nothing).

MUST have the musical taste of a fifty-year-old gay man without actually being one, because I don’t think that will work out very well, do you? Must know what ODB stands for and the ability to dance unironically to DJ Assault.

Ownership of a Mini Cooper without a twee vanity plate (I see what you did there, BlkNTan).

Must be able to lift 82 pounds.
Must be able to stealth vomit.
Must know how to braid.

Must not mind when I enter a fugue state and shout “NO FACE!” while we are fucking.

Accents and all your own teeth a plus. If you do not have all your own teeth, then let me see your grill. Nerds, accents (convincingly fake OK) from UK are a plus.

NO CANADIANS.

I totally know this is going to work. Have a nice day.

P.S. If you think you are a qualified candidate, clarifying questions will be tolerated via comments.

Daily Douchebag Double Feature

Hi Kids! I've got a mixed bag today, and lots of shit to cover, so let's skip the gristle and get straight to the bone, shall we??

I'd like to announce the Douchebag Of The Day. Actually, make that a plural... "douchebagS".  I've got one for Halloween AND today.  So without futher adieu, here they are folks - all the way from a vaginal cleansing product factory somewhere in New Jersey or Michigan, your Daily Bags Of Douche:

Massengill Man # 1 - The creep who reached under my costume and grabbed my cat Halloween night.

Your name is unimportant, as is your entire existence, actually. Since I don't remember it, I have dubbed you "Mr. Rapey McViolater",  but ohhhhhhh;  you can bet your genetically inferior ass that I will never forget your fleshy, pink, and swollen face. I won't forget the sneer it wore when you attempted your charming little barside pelvic exam, but more than that, I'll always remember the way it scrunched up, all mongoose-like and pouty when you realized you were barking up the wrong tree. I think that moment must have come right after I said, "Listen, bitch. If you ever make the foolish decision to try and touch me again, EVER, I will shatter your fucking jaw. Are we clear, motherfucker? I'm not the one. Now GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME."  And you did, without a fight, which surprised me. Because I was preoccupied*, I put you in the back of my head, and even though I saw you at a couple of different places that night, I wasn't bothered by you in the least. The night went on without incident, and I managed to salvage my mood and enjoy Halloween.

At least for a couple of hours. BUT once a low-rent swine, always a low-rent swine, and true to your porcine nature, you went and shoved a forearm up my friend's skirt too.... I caught it out of the corner of my eye, and for a split second, I thought you were about to pull some kind of figure skating lift and twirl move out of your bag o' tricks, but sadly, you were simply fisting my friends box. You ARE quite the charmer, you.  Because my friend didn't blow her rape whistle or donkey punch you, I snapped a pic for posterity and kept my mouth shut.

(yes, I DID say "snapped a pic"... saving that tasty treat for later in the post)

Alas, the mouth can never stay shut for long, thanks to bottom-feeding cretins like you... When I realized it was YOUR headlights in my rearview mirror on the drive home from the last party, I knew it was time to sound off. And when I pulled into the parking lot where my friend's car was parked & you pulled in behind me, I knew it was time to mentally rehearse all those self-defense for women moves I've learned over the years. You fucking scared me, and I don't scare easily.  Hey - you gotta give me credit, I was straightforward & honest with you, remember? I told you "Listen, parasite... If my friend wants to talk to you tomorrow when she's sober, that's HER stupid decision - but right now, she's smashed, which means she's MY responsibility. I'm telling you LOUD AND CLEAR there's NO FUCKING WAY you're getting near her, so please exit... stage left even."  But you stood your ground and refused. I asked you again, this time getting out of my car to confront you. Any self-respecting douchebag would have been ultimately embarrassed by now & would have left. Not YOU, Mr. Duct Tape In The Trunk... Nooooooooo. I had to have one of my male friends physically threaten you to get rid of your lecherous ass. (BTW - you're "Pussy of the day" too.... ran like a little girl THEN, didn't ya?) I was so relieved to see you pull out of the lot that I almost peed.

And then I almost shit. You know when? OF COURSE YOU DO, you creepy fucking insect... I almost shit when we pulled around the back of the building to drop my friend off at his car. You know why? Again, OF COURSE YOU DO, you slimy predator... I almost shit because there you were, in the back lot, car running & headlights off, just WAITING for the 2 women to drop off their male friend. We KNOW what happened at THAT point... no need to rehash the ugly details. Bet you never plan another rape again, though, will ya? Freak.

For your ruthless stalking, undeterred violations of personal space and total lack of morals or social skills, you are THIS YEARS NUMBER ONE DOUCHEBAG. Your parents must be awfully proud. Oh - I almost forgot... I promised to show you what you look like when you're in "hunt" mode. So here's the lovely visual:

If this were me, I'd have kicked your teeth in... consider yourself lucky that my friend (the molestation victim above) didn't take your eyes out...

Oh - and as an added bonus, I have taken the liberty of tacking this to every telephone pole within a 5 mile radius AND in every ladies room I happen to visit. You're welcome.

Nobody, not even someone as altruistic and charitable as I am, relishes unsolicited drunken groping, especially yours. And you actually thought I'd be okay with this, or even ENJOY it? Ugh! What a self-righteous dickshaft.



Douchebag #2 -

You are a human stain... and since I don't remember your name either, I will refer to you you as THE STAIN.

You are the pathetic cunt who said this to me on Full Tilt Poker Monday night:
"I hope you get AIDS and cancer bitch."

Let me try and remember why you said that..... oh yeah - I REMEMBER NOW: I beat you out of a petty 450 dollar pot. Maybe you have some sand in your vagina, but buddy, it was A FIVE DOLLAR FUCKING BUY IN. What went wrong in your life that night?? Did you lose your favorite pink dress???

Cancer is not something to be thrown around so lightly - ask anyone who's had a mastectomy recently.

You need to take a long hard look in the mirror... a mirror doesn't lie. And lucky for you, it can't laugh either.

Yeah, I'm included...

Happy Halloween 2009!!!

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Finally... Halloween is here!!!! Today is the holiday all of us down-home American whore wannabes look forward to! For one night, all common social sense is thrown to the wayside and we women become empowered in our own sexuality because we are allowed, for one night, to dress like huge sluts. Just like Britney, Beyonce, Madonna & Hannah Montana, but just for one night and without all the self-serving ballads and hip-hop beats!

The thing most people don't know is that there’s so much more going on behind the fuzzy bunny tails and pleather jumpsuits than meets the eye. I am revealing to you the true behind-the-scenes reasoning for each of these festive costumes. So tonight, when you’re holding that Sexy Schoolgirl’s hair as she pukes Jaeger into the toilet at the Bottom’s Up, know that deep down inside, she’s a real person, with real feelings. And a secret desire to be a prostitute.

Let's get to know the ladies in question, shall we?


Sexy Nurse

You’ve been a bad boy! You need some sexy medicine! And this was the only Halloween costume they had left! Rest assured that Sexy Nurse didn’t really want to be a sexy nurse, but she waited until the last second to shop and couldn’t fit into the one XXS Sexy Kitty outfit they had left. Regardless, this girl will make the most of it by overdoing the Nurse bit and checking to hear your heartbeat with her plastic stethoscope over and over again. Since there will be 14 other Sexy Nurses in the bar at any given time on Halloween, you’ll be pleased to know that this one is usually the first to jump up on the bar and strip in order to win back the attention her costume has lost her.



The Sexy Referee

Sports! This one is one of the guys! She totally digs whatever you dig -whatEVER you dig!! She's as cool as hell, and probably can suck an elephant through a pixie straw. Careful though.... she has LOTS of male friends. You don't need that kind of competition, so this girl is better served drunk and with a side of buffalo wings.



The Sexy Disney Character

A true princess, and be prepared to treat her like one. The Sexy Disney Girl didn’t get enough attention as a young girl and Sexy Snow White, Sexy Cinderella or Sexy Pocahontas is the showcase for her inner battle between the child within and the raging slut she is today. Easily confused by shiny objects, this girl will come home with you if candy and dolls are promised. Swallow your pride and wear a Prince Charming outfit and she’ll bob for your poisoned apples in the bathroom. But be cautioned, she’ll be planning your Disney-themed magical wedding and subsequent honeymoon to Disneyland by the next morning.



The Sexy Cop

Spread ‘em! I know what you’re thinking - this girl is a dominatrix at heart and wants to spank you until you like it. No, if she was a dominatrix she would probably have dressed up as a dominatrix. The Sexy Cop is actually a tranny trolling the Halloween streets for unsuspecting men to handcuff to a bed and pee on. Why else would she be so into that nightstick? I mean, come on.



The Sexy Daisy Duke, Jessica Simpson or Britney Spears

She wants SO BADLY to be her! Hidden in this gal’s closet is one of those microphones that makes it sound like you’re singing on the radio and about 17 tube-top-leather-pant and chunky Spice Girl’s shoe outfit combinations. At night, after she’s sure everyone’s out for the evening, Britney-Wanna-Be puts on her 1998 “Baby One More Time” CD and a tube top and gives the most stunning pop concert you will never see. Buy her a subscription to US Weekly and she’s all yours.


The Sexy 70's Girl

The key word here is "lazy". This chick spent $10 and 20 minutes in a Goodwill and found a trippy paisley dress and some white boots, which equals all kinds of cheap. Everyone knows that Halloween costumes must cost upwards of $60 and only be made from the thinnest and most easily torn fabric made in Korea. Any girl not willing to spend $60 on an outfit she’ll wear once is a whore and cannot be trusted.


The Sexy Fairy

Caution: To approach this girl is to step into a world of Marilyn Manson, Hot Topic and constant Harry Potter references. Fairies equal Goth, and the dark, “historically-accurate” fairy you see in the bar may actually just be wearing her “going-out” clothes. She is angry at you and she doesn’t even know you. Fairies don’t need men to survive. They need nothing but nature and the Internet. She might be a little chubby now, but she was even fatter in high school. That’s why she moved to Chicago - to start anew and become a manager of a Spencer’s Gifts. She’s the one for you if you really want that 30% discount.

The Sexy Sexy Girl

An honest and true woman. No pretense, no hiding, no outer clothing. This lovely lady wears your average everyday full-out lingerie. No animal tail; nothing to distract from the fact that she is wearing underwear. It may be cold out, but no coat for Sexy Sexy Girl, not even a sexy coat, because that would take away from the impact of her wearing only underwear. Just underwear. Unfortunately, what you see is the best you’re ever going to get. Sexy Sexy has revealed to you and all of your friends the best boudoir outfit she has to offer. So when she takes you home and slyly says, “Let me slip into something more comfortable...” she means stale cotton panties, a sports bra and some socks. Oh, and did you get the part where I said she just showed off her best sexy time skivvies to all of your friends?


The Sexy Kitty, Mousie or Bunny

Almost always complimented with a tight leotard or corset and panties combo, the focus here is not on the animal this woman pretends to portray. It is merely a way to top off what she had planned as a Sexy Sexy Girl outfit, but chickened out on at the last second. This girl is a tease, a doesn’t-follow-through-er, and will most likely be the girl who discusses anal with you, but pulls out of the plan at the last second.


The Sexy Dead Girl

She’s two days away from committing suicide because she’ll never use her journalism degree or move out of her parents’ house in Parma, Ohio. Move along.

Eatabagadix Twitter!! No God = KNOW Censorship

**NOTE:  To hear more about the terrible atrocities of yesterdays trending topic war on Twitter, please go pay a visit to my atheist blog:  Goddities

(and be sure to add yourself as a follower & leave comments while you're there!)

Hi kids! Without any mincing of words, the Douchebag Of The Day (by a landslide) is Twitter. For their undeniable censorship & bias, they are awarded my raised middle finger, a bushel basket full of disappointment, and a one year supply of bad-mouthing and mistrust.

SHAME ON YOU TWITTER! Even Jesus thinks you're a douchebag.

*Honorable mention for Douchebag Of The Day goes to the Christian who tweeted the following, in response to the #NoGod thread: "if there's no god how did balloon boy come safely to earth?"

Yeah. He really said that.






.

West Coast Livin'...

Over the past year, I've made friends with lots and lots of great people who call L.A. their home. I'll be visiting many of them this summer so I've boned up on my knowledge of L.A. culture. As a gift to you, kiddies, I am sharing what I've learned so that if you visit the greater Los Angeles area to chill with your friends or become a star or whatever, you'll know how to act.

*Spoiler alert: Although on the East Coast, it's perfectly acceptable to yell "Get the fuck outta the road, you fuckin' retahhd!" at an elderly man while he crosses the street, they frown on that in Califor-nye-aye.



So, say someone told you were the most talented chorus member in your schools rendition of “Pippin”... Now you think you have what it takes to tackle life in the land of Milk–N-Honey - Los Angeles.

Well, before you go and buy your one-way bus fare, you need to know The Rules of La La Land. Yes, there are rules and, if you break them, you will be taken straight to the border and sent home, or worse - to THE VALLEY (for serious offenders).

Read up, kiddies, and take note, or suffer a life never knowing what it's like living in the 310. (I know... GANGSTA, right??!!)

Rule #1: Though It Is Always Sunny During the Day, It Snows At Night in LA

I know, I know. Drugs are bad, blah, blah, shut up. What you like to call "Drug Addiction" (such a nasty term), the "hipsters" in L.A. refer to as "partying." It may be 2009 but the truth is, the 80’s are alive and blowing a load all over L.A. Nightlife. Their clubs may close at 1:30, but what what they lack in late night club life, they make up for in "AFTER-HOURS," which is when a lot of a people meet up in some random guy's house in the hills and spew fast nonsense at one another while sweating profusely and obsessively changing radio stations.

Rule #2: Flat Is For The Ground, But Those Bosoms Must Be Round.

Ok, ladies- we know your mothers told you to love yourself, but they don’t adhere to that bullshit in the city of angels.  All females must have a heaping, full bosom-with a C Cup minimum. All females will be subjected to RTC’s (Random Titty Checks) in all bars, clubs, restaurants and shopping areas, and will be asked to wear clothing that shows both your cleavage and stomach (for your BMI and hip- to-waist ratio check) on all occasions.

Those unwilling to cooperate will be labled “Feminazi’s” and sent immediately to San Francisco on a dirty Greyhound Bus.

Rule # 3: If Your Mama Is Alive, a Beamer You Shall Drive

There is a car requirement in Los Angeles that is strictly enforced. You must drive a BMW or higher. The BMW shall always be a convertible, and the make must not be more than two years older than the present date. The color must be Dark Blue, Silver or Black. All other colors will get to sent to Encino. You must drive this car no matter what you do for a living, which means you have the following options:

A. Lie To Your Mother
B. Steal From Your Mother
C. Live With Your Mother (which is more forgivable than not driving a BMW)

Rule # 4: Unless You Want To Be Tossed By the Wayside, Get To The Store And Buy Some Peroxide

Because of Section 43251 of the Los Angeles Hottie Code, absolutely NO brunette females will be allowed to reside in Los Angeles.

You will have 24 hours to lighten both your hair and attitude upon entry. Your blonde of choice may range from "Summer, Buttery" to "White Vivid Video Vixon." The L.A. natives prefer the latter. The more you look like a (high retail) porn star, the better you will fare. There is one exception: Roots. All skanks with the skunk line will be sent to Long Beach, where they can listen to hip hop and wear ADIDAS track pants.

Rule # 5: The Truth Is for Fools, Tell It And You’ll Break The Rules

No negative vibes are allowed in LA... Therefore, you will pretend to love every person you meet, idea you hear, movie you see, food you taste and club you visit. Those who violate this rule by sharing what they call their "opinion” will be sent home to New York.

Rule #6: Broke Is No Joke: A Man Without Money Is Not Very Funny

Men need to flaunt their cash like it’s a big penis at a porn convention. No matter what, you must SPEND, SPEND, SPEND. In times when not spending (such as when you are enjoying the fruits of someone else's spending) you must TALK about how much you have been spending. You may accentuate your statements by flashing labels or inviting people to see expensive items you have recently purchased.

Rule #7: When Discussing all Traffic, Try Avoiding All Havoc

Everyone drives in LA. This means you must quickly learn how to sustain a conversation (for a minimum of twenty minutes time) about how you found an alternate route in between your destinations that helped you avoid the “nightmare” on whatever main route the “average” person would have taken.

Side Note: When referring to highways, you must do so as though they are landmarks.

Example: “I avoided the bumper-to-bumper disaster on the “5” this afternoon!”

Rule #7: When Celebs Hit Your Scene, You Must Always Be Mean

You must see at least three celebrities per week and when recounting the tale, you must share negative details about their dress, weight, skin (especially when involving Lindsey or Britney) and attitude. I know this seems to break rule 5 but the Los Angeleans say it doesn’t…pretend not to notice their inconsistency—that DOES break rule 5.

Rule #8: Sushi Is Yummy, Even If It Hurts Your Tummy

Sushi is delicious! Don’t think so? You had better lie. You will be willing to spend $40.00 on rolls filled with cold fish and seaweed and pretend you want and can afford more, but will “hold off” because you don’t want to “stuff yourself.” You will be starving or broke by the end of the night. If starving, you can use your leftover money for “after hours”, where you will have a little nose candy for dessert and lose your appetite. If you are stuffed and broke, your ass had better beg for bumps all night to burn those extra calories. No fatties allowed in LA. Unless you are a studio head- and you are not a studio head (although you are allowed to say you are to get laid).


Rule #9: Unless You Want To Be Deceased, You Must Never EVER Drive East.

No one goes East of La Brea or South of Olympic—That’s gang member territory.

This rule is only broken if you need a fake ID -or an Abortion. Whore.

Rule # 10: The Place Will Not Be The Same, Once You Speaketh The Name

You went to the hottest ___________ (insert name of spa, club, restaurant, hotel bar) and it was ________________(insert AMAZING, AWESOME, RIDICULOUS). You saw _______________(Insert Hef, Playmates, Paris, Lindsay Lohan) and they were _______________ (Insert: Wasted, Anorexic, Old or Lame).

When your friends go there and complain it was dead, you will respond knowingly, "Yeah - well, I went when it was hot three weeks ago!"

Rule #11: If They Live in the 818, You Must Discriminate

No matter how nice she is, how hot she is, how loaded he is or what his excuse is, you can never, ever date someone in this area code. You may never visit someone in this area code, or you will be shunned. You will be forced to wear something from two seasons ago with a big Scarlet V on it if you are caught sleeping over at someone’s house for ANY reason.

This includes relatives.

In fact, if you have relatives in the 818, you must seek restraining orders against them so that when you become famous you can prove you have not been close to them “for years.”

For Fellow East Coasters who don't get it:

LA = Manhattan
The Valley = Long Island
Inland Empire = Jersey

Need I say more?

Now, go and pack your bags (though you will need to purchase new clothes once you arrive, and toss those undies (everyone goes commando in La La Land). Kiss your soul goodbye and say hello to your new best friend, Satan.

Hot Enough For Ya?...

Ok - so let's talk about cliches.

I like them... And the cheesier the better as far as I'm concerned. I've been hearing them a lot lately, thanks to a friend of mine who has a love thing for one of the all time greats, which we will touch upon later. She largely inispired this list, so thank you Samantha (MiniMom) - I owe ya one.

The thing is: I think there are some cliches that should be used WAAAYYY more often, but not in the boring and tiresome way they're usually used in. (C'mon - you know me better than that...)

So... I have created a list of classic cliches (along with their accompanying hand gestures) that have been translated into Kim-glish. Please memorize them and use them as often as possible. And if you have any to add - feel free to do it. Because "That's How I Roll"...

Okay - let's get this party started.


1.“Those Are Odds I Can Live With”
This cliche means everything and nothing at all, and is usually used like this:

Fred: “Hey Bob -  if you drink even one more beer, you’re going to go blind. Like legally blind. For real.”
Bob: "Those are odds I can live with." (shrugs and drinks beer anyway)

Here's the new way:

“Hey ____,(your name) wanna grab a few beers?”
With palms facing each other in a V formation, you shrug and reply, “Those are odds I can live with.”
**Feel free to laugh to yourself after saying this. I mean, shit, you're a funny oddsmaker and you know you just confused SOMEBODY.

2. “Up One Side And Down The Other”

Like most cliches, this one can be used as sexual innuendo... but it usually refers to something being uniformly and completely what it is... For example: "My new Apple computer is one hell of a piece of technology. It is built with sheer precision,  up one side and down the other.

The new way:

Waiter: “Are you enjoying your meal?”
You: “Up one side and down the other, thank you very much”

**Feel free to do a diving roller coaster motion with your hand to drive the point home. And don't forget to cap it off with a casual wink.


3.“I Wouldn’t Kick Her Out Of Bed”

This one is especially nauseating. Sometimes people will add something to the end of it, usually some kind of  infraction they would overlook - like "for eating crackers" or something equally as asinine.

The only way to use the NEW version of this one effectively is when referencing something non-female and preferably inanimate:

You're asked, “So what do you think about lasagna for dinner tonight?”

You reply,  “I wouldn’t kick her out of bed”
**Make sure to make some humping gestures after you say this. If you’re on you’re cell phone make “aree aree aree” sounds or however a squeaking bed sounds to you.


4. "To Be Honest With You”

“To be honest with you” has always been a great way to begin a statement that's pure and utter bullshit, and because it's so overused, everyone KNOWS. So since it's so obvious anyway, let's make it even more obvious for the new version...

A stranger at the mall asks you “'Excuse me... Do you have the time?"

Keeping your best poker face on, you say,  “Well to be honest with you,”  and roll up your sleeve a bit, look at your watch, give the face a little buff and polish, roll your sleeve back down and say “I left my watch at home, sorry Chief."
**Before you walk away make sure you do this: Moving in a grandiose way, take your cell phone out and bring it up to eye level. Make it obvious that you are again looking at the time by squinting in a really exaggerated way while you look at the screen. Proceed to put the phone away then say this: "So long Buddy. Sorry I couldn't help you. To be honest with you, I don't even carry a cell phone anymore because it's always flashing the time." Wink and walk away.


5.“I'd Tell You, But Then I'd Have To Kill You."

You really can’t overuse this classic  gem. So use it as you normally would, but the new version has a surprise ending...

Your friend asks "what are you doing this weekend?" and you say "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you." Chuckle,  tell them your plans and go about business as usual.

**Here's the twist:
Every day for the next week, remind your friend that you're gonna have to kill them. Send them a series of emails containing links to websites that focus on random ways people are murdered  (by being poisoned slowly, by having their brake lines cut, by being caught off guard from behind and strangled with piano wire...etc.) When this has gone on for about a week, call your friend and say "Hey - let's go camping in the mountains this weekend, just me & you... Nobody else around for miles and miles... let your voice fade off in a day-dreamy way.

6. "I Really Shouldn’t”

People generally use this one when offered a slice of pie even though they would never pass up a yummy treat.

The new version of this cliche will be used when someone offers you something that is either a custom or simply necessary,  like a Kleenex box when you’re sneezing or a menu when you sit down at a restaurant. Say it with the same level of precociousness that you would if you were a rubinesque housewife being offered a heaping brownie sunday.
** No matter what you're refusing, be sure to lick your lips in a way that represents desire and lust.


7. “Whatever Happens, Happens”

Previously used as a hollow bit of advice from a shallow friend, you will now use this cliche threateningly.

You: “Want to get together for a drink sometime?”
Them: “Oh - thanks... but I just started seeing somebody..."
You, squinting angrily and with a sneer: "Well... whatever happens, happens”

Use this whenever you are denied a request.
**Pick up a piece of fruit, get real close to the other person's face and take a fierce bite out of it for added effect.

8. “That’s What SHE Said”

Almost too lame and cliched for this list, we’re gonna remodel this one. From now on you will use this cliche at complete random, and not in a Three’s Company type innuendo response to something that a girl might say during sex. The following examples will assist you:

This way is no longer acceptable:

Them: “The storm coming in is a big one”
You: “That’s what SHE said… swish!”

This is how the new version works:

Secretary at your pdoc's office: “So I've got you scheduled for a 3:30 pm appointment on the 12th”

You: “That’s what SHE said”

Secretary: “I don't understand...”

You: "Thats what SHE said"

Secretary: "Look - do you want this appointment or not?"

You: "Thats what SHE said"

Secretary: "That's it. I'm cancelling this appointment."

You: "That's what SHE said, BADA BING"

After delivering that missile, hang up really fast and reflect on your life.  and dont worry too much about fucking up your appointment. After all, you win some, you lose some, whats done is done and let's face it - there's no sense crying over spilled milk.