Archive for the ‘hobbies’ Category
The media portrays serial killing as all glitz, glamour, and bludgening. I’ll admit, it is the best job I’ve ever had, but the downsides are killers. Oh, lookie! A pun! I kill me!
And you thought a sociopath couldn’t have a sense of humor! Doesn’t it just make you want to bite your face off?
Ok, enough good natured fun. Here’s my list.
12 things I hate about being a serial-killer
1. Cheating ass maggots. Sure, they tickle my hoohoo lovingly when I’m riding a stiff corpse, but then they go and turn in to flies and fly away to find another body-closet keep them warm at night. Ungrateful fucking sluts.
2. Cheap, chinese made icepicks. I can’t tell you how many living dolls I’ve lost to inferior icepicks breaking off in the eyesocket. Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to… you know.
3. Charity Thrift Shop Workers. Serial killing is messy work. I often have to burn my clothes to expunge evidence. Also, I like to dress up my playthings. I have to replace my wardrobe several times over each year — that can be expensive! The Goodwill and Salvation Army are big helps, and I’m glad the money I spend goes to help the community, but the people there are seriously creepy.
4. The police artist sketch makes me look fat. Also, like a man. Read the rest of this entry »
This past weekend, thousands of people around the world were pulling hair, popping pills and desperately trying to maintain focus after two days without sleep– but enough about emergency room doctors. What I’m talking about are the cognitively-challenged participants in the worldwide 48 Hour Film Project. These No-Doz™ heroes had been hard at work since Friday evening, writing, directing, scoring, titling, recording and editing short films from NOTHING and, true to the event’s name, they only had 2 days in which to finish.
4 more books I’d read, if I read books.
See Also: Books that exist
|How to Good-Bye Depression: If You Constrict Anus 100 Times Everyday. Malarkey? or Effective Way?
I think constricting anus 100 times and denting navel 100 times in succession everyday is effective to good-bye depression and take back youth. You can do so at a boring meeting or in a subway. I have known 70-year-old man who has practiced it for 20 years. As a result, he has good complexion and has grown 20 years younger. His eyes sparkle. He is full of vigor, happiness and joy. He has neither complained nor born a grudge under any circumstance. Furthermore, he can make love three times in succession without drawing out. In addition, he also can have burned a strong beautiful fire within his abdomen. It can burn out the dirty stickiness of his body, release his immaterial fiber or third attention which has been confined to his stickiness. Then, he can shoot out his immaterial fiber or third attention to an object, concentrate on it and attain happy lucky feeling through the success of concentration. If you don’t know concentration which gives you peculiar pleasure, your life looks like a hell.
|Endangered Pleasures: In Defense of Naps, Bacon, Martinis, Profanity, and Other Indulgences First cigars and gin topped the list. Then red meat, Cadillacs, coffee with caffeine, and sleeping late all began to edge toward extinction. Barbara Holland makes an impassioned defense of life’s little pleasures in a book that will entertain diehard sinners, comfort the secretly licentious, and encourage those who just need a little nudge to abandon jogging and no-fat salad dressing.
“Perhaps it’s a good time to reconsider pleasure at its roots,” declares Holland (Secrets of the Cat), introducing this collection of entertaining, genteel meditations. As the subtitle hints, the author, living in the Virginia countryside, is no sybaritic renegade but a woman who can find happiness in antinomies like “Working” and “Not Working,” “Buying Things” and “Saving Money,” and “Going Out” and “Staying In.” She writes with conversational ease, and some observations linger: To the miserly, “a penny spent is a penny mourned”; mail is “one of life’s small recurring pleasures”; sports, “unlike life, are played according to rules.” Holland even reveals that she drives without using her seat belt. Illustrations.
|A Portrait of Yo Mama as a Young Man Yo mama sucks. For years, everyone has talked about yo mama, pointing out her failings in important areas such as appearance, mental capacity, and weight. Now, two researchers and retired sewer cartographers have spent over a decade investigating yo mama, assembling a wide range of evidence against her. They stalked, photographed, and studied the horrible woman who brought you into this world—yo mama—then compiled their findings. Here is some of the evidence you will find in A PORTRAIT OF YO MAMA AS A YOUNG MAN: yo mama’s résumé, her last will and testament, her internet searches, personals she has placed, e-mails yo mama wrote to you while you were in college, and numerous charts and graphs. From this thorough and authoritative work you will learn facts such as: Yo mama says “comprised” when she means “composed,” as in, “I am comprised mostly of grease and sugar.” Yo mama’s so lupine, she chases rabbits. I had sex with yo mama and it was horrible. Just a horrible, horrible time. If nervous tics were pizzas, yo mama would have five pizzas that freak everybody out.|
You bitch, we listen.
The last comic we posted was a bit too hard to read for some folks, especially when sized down for sharing. We’re still learnin’ here folks.
Our awesomful artist, Jesse Custer, has resized to 700×233, and changed the font.
As to not confuse hotlinkers with the new size, we’ve left the original alone (here), and fixed up a whole spankin new post for ya.
We met Dotty briefly in our last comic. Now we see her again, and meet both her mom and her next door neighbor Rocky.
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