It rubs the lotion on its skin...

There are times in person's life when they think they're clever. Then they see someone has created a pop song based on Buffalo Bill's "it puts the lotion in the basket..." dialog and realize they're still fucking amateurs.

Whores don’t fall far from the whore tree

When a son is just like his father, they say he’s a chip off the old block; they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And there are plenty of fathers out there who secretly (or not so secretly) hope that their sons follow them into their profession. Women, on the other hand, may or may not have wanted their daughters to follow in their pregnant and bare-footsteps.

Until they were liberated.

Now a stripper can hope with all her whore heart that her whore daughter will carry on the tradition. Not that I mind. I love strippers (more as objects than actual people but that's beside the point). It’s just that I would hope for something better for my little girl. A life that didn’t involve her being ogled and/or followed by Larry and Rusty, the local perverts. Call me crazy…

In any event, this article chronicles the adventures of a mother and daughter stripper tandem in Florida. There is a whole lot of missing perspective and outright delusion in this article. Before I explain that though, how about the fact that two relatives are often naked and performing simulated sex acts in front of each other? What kind of fucked up situation is this? The last thing, the very last thing I need in this whole universe, is to see any of my, well… you figure out the rest of this sentence. Even when it comes to my brothers getting horizontal with a lady, I don’t want to hear it. You hear me? I don’t want to hear it. When Danny tries to tell me stories (and they’re just that… stories. All lies.) I want to push my fingers in my ears and do the whole, “lalalalalala – I can’t hear you – lalalalala” bit. And two other brothers have kids. I’m not stupid. I know where babies come from. Theirs weren’t produced this way though. The stork brought those children into the world. The motherfucking stork. Yes.

So what kind of butt-fucked situation produced a mother and daughter who were comfortable stripping in front of each other? Who knows but our poor heroines don’t have the brain power to extricate themselves from it. Consider this lack of perspective:

Mother says most men realize that she’s naked when she’s dancing for them. No, of course not – they’re clearly impressed by your view on United States foreign policy and impressive vocabulary. It’s not the titties swinging in their face.

Daughter says she has a plan. The stripping is only temporary; she’s only doing it until she gets her massage therapy license ands starts up a spa. She’s not like the other strippers whose great plans have failed. She’s different. She also says it was strange the first time she went into the titty joint to watch her mother peel her clothes off and rub her bits on strangers. Who knew? I thought that would be as normal as a bear shitting in the woods. Guess I was wrong.

Her father found out she was stripping and told her to get an education so she’d have something to fall back on. Others called her a whore. Good times. Now THAT’S perspective.

More lack of perspective from the youngest daughter (who isn’t yet a stripper), “It's [stripping] a very respected profession, and they work hard for their money.''

No sweetie, PROSTITUTION is a respected profession. Strippers are soulless.

Mother says mirrors are her worst enemy. Really? Like, worse than your lack of education, lack of ambition and the personality flaws that lead you to believe stripping alongside your daughter is a-ok? None of those are your worst enemy? If you say so, I guess.

I should give some props though. The younger whore already has two houses. TWO houses. Maybe stripping isn’t a bad deal after all. I suddenly hope I have daughters. I could live in a palace…

Even worse than a habanero pepper

Have you ever eaten something hot then had it burn your o-ring on the way back out of your body? Sure, right? Well… have you ever eaten lightening?

This is precisely what happened to poor Natasha Timarovic recently. I am copying and pasting this article whole (for posterity) in case the link rots.

Lightning exits woman's bottom

October 09, 2006 12:00am

A WOMAN has suffered severe burning to her anus after being struck by lightning which hit her in the mouth and passed right through her body.

Natasha Timarovic, 27, was cleaning her teeth at in her home in the Croatian city of Zadar when lightning struck the building.

She said: "I had just put my mouth under the tap to rinse away the toothpaste when the lightning must have struck the building.

"I don't remember much after that, but I was later told that the lightning had travelled down the water pipe and struck me on the mouth, passing through my body.

"It was incredibly painful, I felt it pass through my torso and then I don't remember much at all." Doctors at the city hospital where she was treated for burns to the mouth and rear said: "The accident is bizarre but not impossible."

She was wearing rubber bathroom shoes at the time and so instead of earthing through her feet it appears the electricity shot out of her backside," a medic told local newspaper, 24 Sata.

"It appears to have earthed through the damp shower curtain that she was touching as she bent over to put her mouth under the tap. If she had not been wearing the shoes she would probably have been killed by the blast."

24 Sata said the young woman had been released from hospital after being kept in overnight and was expected to make a full recovery.

How shitty is your life when this happens to you. You’re just brushing your teeth when a lightning bolt tears through you and shoots out your ass. There are a couple of things that strike me here though.

First of all, do they not have fucking cups in Croatia? She would have been spared the misery of having her crinkle welded shut if she had had sense enough to use a cup instead of rinsing directly from the faucet.

Second of all, how lucky must she consider herself for having worn shoes. In case you missed it, the lightening would have exited through her feet and probably killed her without shoes. Since, however, she was wearing rubber shoes, the lightning’s exit was blocked and it was forced to find a different way out: through her fudge tunnel.

I wonder if this sort of thing leaves a permanent scar. What if she’s about to give up the booty one night; will her sodomizer notice something’s amiss?

Bugger: “Oh… uhh… geez. Yeah, umm… why exactly is your butthole black like toast?”
Natasha: “Oh yeah… that. It’s actually a funny story I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

Flickr reminder

In case you have forgotten, or in case you never knew, I have put up some pictures on a flickr site found here. I've added a handful of new pics so check them out.

Illness and jokes

Last Thursday, Kathi’s sister called me a weakling; told me that I have no immune system. This was like Herve Villechaize calling Manute Bol short. There is, of course, a background story but telling it would get me in trouble. A summary is as follows: I made fun of her for always being sick (but, strangely, never showing symptoms). Then I got sick and soldiered on, working 13, 11 and 12 hour days consecutively. She saw her chance for revenge. No harm, no foul. Karma’s a bitch, right?

Still though – this got me thinking about something. In order for a joke to be effective, you have to make sure that it can’t be turned on you. For example, I make fun of Andy for being gay and I can do that because I am the epitome of manliness. I have the hair in weird places to back me up on that claim. If this guy were to make fun of Andy for being gay though, that wouldn’t be as funny. (Actually, it kinda would be funny. I mean, if HE thinks you’re gay, you MUST be packin’ some serious fudge).

In any event, the joke wasn’t funny to me because calling someone weak for genuinely being sick and then working like a dog despite the illness is hardly weakness. As a matter of fact, I now like to think of myself as better than Rambo. Yes… better than Rambo…

Pantera fuckin' rips, woaaaaah!!!!

Aside from the dude that farted in class, this is one of the comedy highlights in my life right now. To enjoy this, it helps to be familiar with Pantera, though it's not absolutely necessary.

Click here for pure ass-kickery.

Highlights

I’ve been working a lot and I was out of town last weekend so I haven’t written any proper updates in a little while. Since I’m too lazy to write more, I’m going to do this in bullet format:

• I went to the Oktoberfest. There isn’t really too much to elaborate on here because it’s just as you’d imagine it: lots of drinking and drinking related shenanigans. The first night that I went to the Oktoberfest was a Monday night and I had to work early on Tuesday morning. You can probably tell where this story is going… Long story short, I got lit up and woke up feeling like a bag of assholes the next day. I assigned my students group work so I could slip out of class and vomit in peace. Several times…
• I went back to Krumbach, where Kathi’s sister’s grandmother lives. The toilets are still narrow and retarded and there’s another huge disadvantage. The acoustics in the bathroom are not that good, you see. This isn’t a problem when you have a solid deposit but if you have a little gas, your normal expulsions become seismic anal symphonies. It’s a little embarrassing when the only other people in the house are you girlfriend and her grandmother.
• Germans like their movies dubbed rather than having them in the original language with subtitles. This is completely ridiculous. Imagine Colonel Jessup with a faggy German voice. Imagine Captain Jack Sparrow with a faggy voice. Not good. A corollary point on this topic: German is a great language for yelling in and sounding tough in but it seems that they only hire fruit baskets to do voice acting here.
• Something else that’s different and funny here is the fact that there’re no “R&B” or “Rap/Hip Hop” sections in the music stores here. Both of these genres fall under the blanket “Black Music” category here. One of the girls brought home a “Black Party Classics” CD compilation last week. Track #1: Vanilla Ice. No joke. Track #12 is the Eddie Murphy, ummm…. classic, “Party All The Time.”
• My students are amusing. I teach two “unemployed” classes. These classes are made up of unemployed (what else?) people who are sent by the government to take English and, thereby, acquire a new skill that might make them more viable job candidates. I also found out that while they’re in these classes, they – technically – don’t count as unemployed so the German government also does this to keep the jobless count artificially low. Anyway, some of the students in these classes are interesting and it’s quite clear why they have no jobs. Take the conspiracy theorist in my first class. He’s convinced that he has everything figured out, that the Illuminati, Bilderberger Group and Freemasons run the world (the Freemasons part is true. Take me as an example…). He also knows that 9/11 was an inside job (Maddox has an excellent take on this here). What he hasn’t figured out yet, is how to find and hold a job. Go figure. In my other class, there’s a lady who was complaining about Capitalism and how it’s the worst thing ever. I couldn’t hold my tongue on this and lit into her about her views. She felt that she was/is entitled to a job even though she doesn’t bring anything to the table as an employee. This is what socialism does: it creates an entitlement mentality where the individual is entitled to whatever they want even when they don’t feel they have to work for it. If someone busts their ass and succeeds – creates a good life for themselves – the socialist feels that person owes the rest of the shitless lay-abouts something that they can’t/won’t provide for themselves. FUCK SOCIALISM.
• Another, non-unemployed, student of mine farted in class by accident on Thursday and I’ve literally been having fits of giggles about it even through today. I had said something at the end of class that he thought was funny and we were laughing about it. He was bouncing in his seat and upon landing after one of the bounces, he blew ass. I totally played it off but it’s been killing me ever since. I imagine that it was something that he’d been holding in for the duration of the class and he was precious seconds away from sweet release. Then I came in with a funny comment, he started laughing and pushed one out. His reaction was great too. Ask soon as he tooted he said, “oh…. sorry” and he was so sad. Then he felt he needed to talk a lot. He didn’t shut up until he walked out of the door. I reckon this was designed to occupy my mind and make me forget that he just shit his pants during my lesson. Whatever, kudos to him. The whole situation makes for one of the funniest things I’ve had happen in a while. Good times.

How hard is it to pick up a lamp or something?

A woman in Pennsylvania has been charged in a domestic dispute.

Chytoria Graham was charged with aggravated assault, reckless endangerment and simple assault. Par for the course in a domestic dispute, right? What's unusual about this particular case was her choice of weapons. She didn't pick up a lamp, didn't pick up a board or even a knife. Those things would be too logical. Noo.... Chytoria decided to use her baby as a weapon. Grabbed her four-week old baby and swung it like a baseball bat (well... at least this is how I imagine it went down).

Her baby.

Nice one lady. At least, from the looks of her mugshot, her boyfriend got some shots in. There's no word on how much damage the baby caused to him.

Christmas is around the corner

October is never too late to start thinking about x-mas gifts. I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but I know what I'm getting all of you for the holidays.

Yummy down on this.

HWAAAAAAHH!!!

The Japanese are fucked up, exhibit #47,341.

Fucked up but funny. HWAAAAAHH!!

All time backfire

Surely, everyone who reads this has been in trouble for doing something stupid. Did you ever throw a pillow at your little brother only to miss and have the pillow behead a wise man in your grandmother’s nativity set? Did you ever re-break your thumb trying to hit your buddy’s little brother with an apricot? Did you ever pass out in your car only to wake up to your dad’s disapproving looks the next morning as he was heading off to work?

What about not knowing your boundaries? I mean, how many of us took our parents cars without having been given expressed permission? Then your parents try the old, “if you ever pull that shit again we’re going to report the car stolen and have you taken to jail!” Did they actually ever do that though? Nah... we were usually smart enough to not do it again or, failing that, we were smart enough to not get caught. Most of us were never forced to call our parent’s bluff.

Liam Ahsley’s parents weren’t bluffing though.

I mean, who the fuck calls the cops on their own son after he’s taken the car without permission? Seriously. Liam Ashley’s parents did and they thought they were teaching him a lesson. It turns out that they one the ones who learned a valuable lesson about being retarded cunt-rags.

You see, after the cops threw 17 year-old Liam in the paddy wagon, he was beaten to death by the other hooligans that were also being carted off to prison. Liam had been arrested and the judge in the case offered bail but the parents opted to send him to prison instead. It was during this van ride to prison that he was beaten and strangled by the other prisoners.

Well done. Well done indeed.

Of course the parents have a list of ten questions they want answered about their son’s death and how it happened, etc. Something tells me that the first question is not, “why are such enormous douchebags that we got our own son killed for typical teenage behavior?”