Thursday, December 13, 2007

Oh God! I'm So Fucking SWEATY!

Yeah sure, there's a consoling hand on my shoulder, but that doesn't help the fact that I am just dripping with sweat over every inch of my tan, hot body. No matter what I do I end up all sweaty like this and my clothes soak through from all of my hot sweaty sweat that oozes out of my pores that are located all over my sweaty body. My hair gets stringy from the dripping sweat and it clings to my scalp like a dead animal skin but its actually just real sweaty and not dead like it looks. Whenever I get like this dudes come up and try to comfort me and they sometimes even try to listen to my heart with their cellphones pushed against my sweat soaked and tan stomach area. The problem with being this sweaty is how totally lubricated my skin is all the time. My shirts just slip off and land behind me on railings for me to lean against, which I guess isn't all bad. Also the girls like the sweat because so much of it comes off me during the sex they think they're getting a free salty shower that stinks a little but when they realize its just my body sweating so much all over them they usually finish really quick. That's pretty hot too, which makes me even hotter and sweatier than anyone could even imagine. Just picture someone so hot and sweaty that you just start to sweat looking at them. That's knowing me. I start big sweaty moshpits of hot bodies sweating on each other with a cloud of stink that's kind of like being at a heavy metal concert because of the B.O. except there's more girls near me.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

You can take Santa out of the Ghetto, but you can't take the Ghetto out of Santa

Santa's got a fat setup in the North Pole with all those midget slaves and electronics and shit, but it wasn't always like that. Santa actually grew up in the Coney Island area of Brooklyn and got his first big break shooting hoops in the rough-and-tumble Carey Gardens housing project. St. Nick's skills on the playground earned him the respect to get out of the gang life that engrossed so many of his peers, but the experience scarred his fragile mind. Beneath his outwardly jolly demeanor, a hard understanding of the ugliness of man exists.

A young Santa quickly learned the hardships of life in Coney Island

Obviously Santa has since moved on to a better place up North, but legend has it in Carey Gardens that Santa still maintains an apartment in the building, and through extensive philandering has fathered a large proportion of its residents.

Think this is a joke, do you? Why is it that you never hear poems about Santa as a young man? Ever consider that, smartass?

Friday, August 17, 2007

Nice To Mole You!

This beauty was spotted from about two hundred yards away outside the Tower of London. I asked this woman her name and she said she was Moley Russel's wart. I agree. I gave her a can of Barbasol and three razors from my bag to take the goatee off of it. Needless to say, she was grateful.

Someone Lose A Bet?

How in the hell does something like this happen? It can't be only the tattoo artists fault because they always stencil tattoos on and show you before they do it. So that means two of the stupidest people on Earth came into contact for one amazing moment in time and the results of this meeting can be enjoyed forever! This is the type of tattoo that should have been carved through the flesh and onto his bones, so archaeologists in the future can ponder its meaning. They might have a little trouble with the 'w' because it looks like an 'm.' They will wonder why someone would be so proud of being amsome that they would tattoo it right on their back. Amsome... hmmmm... what could that mean? As a side note, they didn't even make it level and what's with the huge space between the words. I think I could fix this tattoo though. I'd throw an 'r' into that big space making it Ramsome. Then change my last name to Ramsome so everyone is like 'whoa man! You love your name!' Or if you don't like that, you could also throw a 'j' in front of the 'I'm' and blend in the apostrophe so it says Jim Ramsome. You could then tell people he was a dude you were friends with in 8th grade who was really fucking rad so you wanted everyone to know you used to be friends.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Find the Four Beautiful Things in this Photo!

Okay, I'll give you a hint!

There are...
Two (2) hot chicks
Two (2) hot testicles!

Why beat around the BUSH about it! HA HA HA HA! Two hot fucking NUTZ! As a side note, does anyone else hate the t-shirt over a long sleeve t-shirt look? Kyle Belton eat your heart out! Also, what's with the pictures on the wall with the kids holding their hands together in prayer? It's like their parents put them up think 'Yes! These will make our ugly, shithead kids seem like little angels!' If they only knew their kids were pulling their genitals out to ruin photographs at keg parties. As a teenage guy I never had a girl 'ruin' one of the pictures I was taking friends by secretly exposing her vagina, but I guess I was lucky and none of my pictures were ever spoiled. Thank GOD for that. I'm going to go curl up to a good Emma Watson movie and cry while thinking about how fucking lucky I am.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Seattle Man Discovers New 'Relaxed' Jogging

Are you bothered by the prospect of going jogging and having some passerby confuse you with someone who needs to be somewhere in a hurry? For those of you who said yes, there is an answer to this often mortifying dilemma. You simply need to slip your hands into the front pockets of your pants while your running, that way no one in their right might would mistake you for someone who has somewhere to be. The man shown above was ever so casually running at full speed along the shore at Lincoln Park in Seattle, serenely cruising with nowhere to go and not a care in the world. Even when he tripped over his own feet and nearly fell face first into the pavement, he looked calm and relaxed, never removing his hands from the comfortable confines of his pants. The man was a vision of someone enjoying a lazy sprint at the beach. Learn from him and maybe you could shed a few pounds without really caring about it much.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007


I was in Albuquerque at this bar with a couple girls when one of them left for the bathroom. She was gone for about forty five seconds before returning to the pool table all flushed looking. She immediately told us that she just took a 'speed shit' because she didn't want us to know that she was taking a dump but decided to tell us about it anyway because she was able to pull it off so smoothly. This made me realize that there were some things about girls in high school that weren't so bad after all. I realize this story has nothing to do with this picture.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Is Your Shirt Tucked In? Mine is.

My shirt is tucked crisply into my waistband, accentuating my shoulder/waist ratio to attract females. I will mate with them when they draw close because I am a masculine man. I am all male, wholly sexual. With hands on hips I will insemiate women across this great nation. I am a specimen of masculine perfection. Tuck those shirts in boys, and lets just see how you measure up. Come on... I waiting, with my hands on my hips. Waiting.

Monday, April 23, 2007

The Nicest El Camino In Existence

Yes, that is an El Camino sporting Louis Vuitton flash. Yes, that is a proud black man standing tall. Yes, that is a trailer park in the background. The question that remains in my mind is, who the fuck is supposed to be impressed by this photo? Anyone posing like this guy is obviously thinking he's pretty fucking awesome. The way the car is parked with a nice watery backdrop leads me to believe he was trying to set this shot up for a while, and he may have even driven to this location with the sole purpose of taking this picture. How long has it been since El Camino's made the list of vehicles never to be driven by non-mexicans? Was it ever not on that list? Fuck that stupid car. This guy is going to be pissed when he gets out of jail and finds out his El got repo'd and some lawn care specialist has put glitter paint over the Vuitton. No big loss though, with his recording contract he can buy a fleet of 1984 El Camino's to replace it. Fuck Death Row, fuck Dre... etc. etc.

America's Top Model

Some kids have negative body issues. Some kids should.

Friday, February 02, 2007

So Many Questions Go Unanswered

Chuck Norris has been in more than his fare share of bad movies, but even he had to know that when he paired up with a shaggy dog he might be scraping the bottom of the barrel for film roles. Of course, bottom is a relative term. Chuck has his beard, an info-mercial where he doesn't even have to wear sleeves, as well as the ability to do spin kicks in wranglers, but when did he decide it would be okay for a martial arts legend to hold hands with a police dog for a promotional photo? What police department uses shaggy dogs anyway? What kind of criminal would be scared of that stupid dog? Doesn't everyone know that dogs like that get ear infections all the time and their heads start to rot so you have to put them to sleep? Why does the dog's badge have his fucking picture on it? Is that in case someone who thinks the dog might be impersonating an officer can be reassured? Why is Chuck's hair so fucking teased? Since this movie (Top Dog for anyone out there who might want to rent it) came out in 1995, didn't anyone on the set notice that he has a goddamn mullet and even then they weren't cool? How come he had enough chest hair in 1972 that Bruce Lee could rip it out by the fistful but in 2007 he is smooth as a baby's bottom? Did they think no one would notice that this movie is a horrific attempt at outdoing K-9, starring Jim Belushi, which is a much better movie except that scene where Belushi gets out of bed in his underwear? The worst thing about this movie is the fact that someone out there owns it on DVD and actually watches it. People like that are not sent to camps for re-education and I just don't think I can take it anymore. Why the fuck doesn't Canada open up a gulag that we could send these people to? Jesus, it's not like they're doing anything useful with all that land. Why not a nice string of work camps? I know about a thousand people I think should learn what the crack of the Commandant's whip sounds like.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

He Who Dwells In Darkness...

You thought you could trust him. You thought you were his friend. You were mistaken, for he is the one who moves behind the shadows and sleeps in the Devil's den. With a black heart and eyes filled with hate, he watched you slumber with the hammer of death poised to strike. He did not see you as his victim, to him you were nothing, just another sacrifice. As you enter the realm of destruction to understand his world and after your sanity has been shattered to dust, you will know what it is to be Todd Hoke of Bakersfield, California.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Gunt, It's What's For Dinner!

You ever get a craving for some meat and a fat juicy steak just won't cut it? If that's the case, you need to dig into a big pile of gunt. For those of you who don't know what gunt is, you find it immediately below the belly button and directly above the axe-wound of morbidly obese female slam pigs (women.) It's that soft fleshy pouch of joy that bubbles out like a hot air balloon below the beltline. Though the collection of this succulent meat has been banned in most nations, some areas of the United States' deep south still harvest this delicacy and supply it to upscale restaurants around the globe. The trick to harvesting gunt is to find specimens who do not have abscesses of the skin or adult-onset diabetes, both of which are rampant problems with this particular breed of animal. Once the target has been acquired and detained with padded harnesses to avoid bruising the soft flesh, a harvesting team will be dispatched by helicopter to excise the meat. The slam pig is then released back into the wilds of their trailer park to smoke and drink malt liquor.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Ahhh shit I'm fucked now

Goddamn it, why did I have to go out and rape some bitches when I'm a fucking newscaster!?! I knew that shit would catch up to me but I just couldn't bring myself to sell the windowless van! Why can't I be a newscaster and a serial rapist and have people leave me the fuck alone?!? I just want to read the news! I just want to rape some sluts! I want to live my life!!!!! Why???

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

I'll Take A Handjob Over Here!

I'll be honest for a moment, I would love to get jacked off and by pretty much anyone at this point. I've been wearing pink, turning the cap around sideways, shaving my forearms, you know, doing fucking everything I can think of and yet nothing helps. No one besides my tennis coach will so much as brush the palm of their hand across my dick, balls and taint. I swear, the skin there is so sensitive at this point I can feel the heat of another human body from fifty yards away. That's through my jeans, I should add, plus two pairs of underwear. That's right, I wear two. A pair of classic white briefs with a loose pair of boxers as a cover. The boxer layer is just in case any girls see me changing they will see nothing but silky red boxers hanging down to my knees instead of getting a nice outline of my shlong, gooch and scrote. The classic white briefs add a level of comfort that I have never been able to let go of, plus they protect my cock, nuts and perenium from the sometimes overwhelmingly sexy feel of the silk. In addition, briefs enable me to give my constant stiffies the good old waistband-tuck so my engorged junk is not jutting out like a fucking monolith. I probably spend a little too much time thinking about getting someone to massage, kiss, french, tug and/or please my gorgeous fuck-stick, nifkin and sack, but the fact that none of the girls at school will choke themselves half to death on my rod while fingering my jewels and bonch is driving me nuts. I would gladly put out a cigarette on my anus just to get some lubed up attention to my aching marble bag, shaft and grundle. They are so fucking starved for attention it's a joke. So if you've got any tips on how to get girls to play with my fucking crotchell region, I'm all ears.