119
Omg omg omg: KFC Launches Bacon Sandwich with Chicken Patties Instead of Bread
If this is an April Fool's joke, I might have to murder something. Or just make my own bacon sandwich with chicken bread.
Mmm...chicken bread.
UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: THERE IS A COMMERCIAL:
118
While some of you are eating processed ham and staining chicken fetuses, San Fransisco's Lady of Perpetual Indulgence will be parading about for its annual Hunky Jesus Contest.
You can't spell blasphemy without abs.
115
I love when aesthetically pleasing baked goods are also easy to make. I absolutely must bake this - and I have just the party to whip it out at. Let me just say there will likely be a penis pinata at this party.
You're right! I am talking about Mother's Day.
114
Finally, wrestling TRIES to be gay. But why is he doing stripper moves?
Oh, and obligatory gaga-did-it-better-and-has-a-bigger-penis remark.
112
This is a pretty creative idea: This artist paints onto her models to make them look like paintings. Then she photographs them.
To be clear: What you're seeing is not a painting. It is person with paint on them that the artist then photographed. Utterly bizarre and an amazing concept. Follow the link for more pictures, or click these pictures for bigger shots.
111
Anna Paquin Comes Out as Bisexual
...and says some other stuff about tolerance and equality and junk.
110
Just Bieber hacks into and overthrows Funny or Die: Bieber or Die
Dramatic Bieber!
And look at all that damn hair!
104
DC Plastic Bag Tax Drops Monthly Bag Use from 22.5 Million to 3 million - a 19 million average drop only three months after the implimentation of the tax.
Also, with 3 million bags at a nickel apiece, that's $150,000 in extra state revenue.
Small ideas sometimes are the best ones.
Also, people in DC are clearly very cheap.
103
Ricky Martin Comes Out On His Website
Finally "she looks like a flower, stings like a bee" makes sense.
100
I cannot think of anything more fitting for a hundredth post than this collection of random pet accessories, most of the poop related.
1. Dog Poop Collector - Collect Straight from the Pup's Butt
2. Demeaning Doggie High Chair
3. This one is self-explanatory
98
I got a call this afternoon that my grandfather had died in his sleep last night. This song always reminded me of him.
97
Sigh, I miss literature. And actually doing something that matters.
Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring and the children cry — determined to make a day of it. Why should we knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, situated in the meridian shallows. Weather this danger and you are safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider what kind of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through Church and State, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake; and then begin, having a point d'appui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, or perhaps a gauge, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time. If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact, you will see the sun glimmer on both its surfaces, as if it were a cimeter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and so you will happily conclude your mortal career. Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business.
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