Sexiest Man Alive.

Congratulations to Chris Hemsworth, People‘s pick for 2014’s Sexiest Man Alive. With his superhero abs, dirty blond locks, and panty-dropping Aussie accent, it’s no surprise People would want to join the world’s women (and about 20 percent of its men) and jump his bones like they were part of a goddamned sex trampoline. Continue reading

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It just got easier to watch porn on your smartphone.

I recently picked up a new smartphone and, while rifling through the settings, I came across this little gem:

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As a bonus, there’s a Smart Cleaning option a couple rows down, I assume in case I miss the Kleenex.

An open letter to people who don’t clean up after their dogs.

Dear People Who Don’t Clean Up After Their Dogs,

You guys are really great.

No, really.

If there’s one thing I absolutely love, it’s a nice, hot, humid, Florida summer. Why? Because if it wasn’t for your inability to hunch over and pick up your dog’s mess, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the smell of day-old, sun-baked dogshit every goddamn time I leave my apartment.

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Conversations with dogs.

Conversations with dogs originally appeared as a guest post on the Chowderhead, a site that, as far as I can tell, is no longer published publicly. I found the original copy in a drafts folder and I liked it so much I wanted to resurrect it.

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“I wish you could talk, Fido.”

You hear it all the time in the movies. Some stupid little kid crying in his room because he got his ass kicked at school for being a stupid little kid. His trusty dog is there to tongue away his stupid little tears.

“If you could talk, you’d know what to say. You’d know what to do!”

You think so, kid?

You really think Fido would know exactly what to say to make you feel better? I mean, dogs are smart, don’t get me wrong. I’m a dog-person. I have two. But I would never want my four-legged assholes to talk back.

They’ve seen too much.
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Liebster Award. Also, I’m baaack.

My God, you guys — I’m pretty sure Hailey’s Comet comes around more than I do, at this point.

That said, I (intend) on coming a lot more from here on.

No, seriously, I do porn, now.

Lord, where are my manners? Some of you are guests. Here for the first time.

You poor, misguided souls.

Pointed this way by the (much more successful at blogging than me because more people like reading about makeup and fashion than dick and fart jokes) Girlfriend. See, she was nominated for a Liebster award by someone who enjoys her stuff. The Girlfriend then, in turn, nominated me for the aforementioned award even though I haven’t done a goddamned thing with this blog in like six months.

But here we are, anyway.

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