hello new followers - 81 and 82

fran and theodore burns, hello, hoezit, heya!

really glad you're here, thought i'd say hello and thanks for joining. this isn't a cult, promise. you don't have to hand over all your money and posessions, unless you want to.

please enjoy your stay.

apostrophe catastrophe

hi, hope you had a nice weekend.

(if all the images in this post aren't showing up, please try refresh your browser, we're all a bit glitchy on this monday morning. not sure why. sorry.)

last week's post about the world's most racist desk (over here) got me thinking about how rife apostrophe abuse is these days.

partly because we all smoked too much weed when we're at school, and partly because... nope it's mainly just because we all smoked too much weed when we were at school.
it seems the apostrophe has been flummoxing people for decades.

apostrophe catastrophe is a website where people like me, who don't get laid enough, can go to vent their frustration about the abuse of the apostrophe. nerd much?


check out some of these beauties. or rather, check out some of these beautie's:

oh no wait, maybe that bowl actually belongs to Penny.

and again, maybe that piece of old cardboard actually belongs to Sweet Plum.

cdses, dvdses and gameses. sheesh.

he he he, maybe that sign behind it should say 'wet floor's'

the your, you'r, your'e, youre confusion continues. eish.

but it's not just the apostrophe that's getting the better of us. it seems the quotation mark gets a bit of a regular belting too. which is where this website; unnecessaryquotes.com comes in handy.










there's something about quotation marks that are incredibly sarcastic, don't you think?

i always imagine someone doing those immaginary rabbit ears with their fingers when they say the word that's couched in quotation marks.

like they're not actually all that special.

they "are", really they "are". exclamation mark, exclamation mark! ok, easy tiger. deep breaths.

then there's the quotation mark missuse and overuse sitation, as per below:

woof.

ha ha ha it's not really free.

here by "daily" i think they mean some day last week, sort of, but not really.

ok, that's more than enough nerding for one day. tomorrow more smut. have a happy Moanday.

hello - one stoned crow

hello new follower number 80 - one stoned crow - we like to do a personal meet and greet round these parts, it all started over here, with purple grimace.

your house made of rock is pretty rad by the way. that's some project.

anyway, welcome to a million miles from normal. i sense you'll fit right in around here.

clients from prison

more goodness from clients from hell, here.

did you hear the one about eddie izzard?

i saw eddie izzard live last night.

(eddie izzard - my favourite commedian, father of the famous 'cake or death' and 'the deathstar canteen' fame. brilliant genius man of great awesomeness.)

seeing him in the flesh was pretty much a dream come true. you know how you make a list of all the things you need to do before you die...

1. shag a guy in one of those welding masks.
2. see eddie izzard live in concert.
3. shag a guy in one of those fireman helmets.
4. repeat.

you know, the usual.

he was incredibly funny. just one brilliant, genius, hysterical joke after the other. bah bah bah bah... he shot them out. and giraffes and jam and darth vader and and and speaking latin and counting in latin (really really funny) and the thing about the appendix and grass. and jesus and cesus and desus. How does he remember it all? going on three hours of material, all stored upstairs. maybe that's why he has such an unusually large head. (a sexy one, but a large one)

i really truly wish i had a bigger brain and i could remember everything he said.

but i can't and as hard as i try, i won't.

because sadly i am a one-joke kind of girl.

i can remember dozens maybe even thousands of the great ads that win at award shows every year. i remember to wash myself daily and i'm even quite good at remembering birthdays, especially if i have my diary handy.

but at any given time i can only remember just one joke at a time. right now it's this one:

me: why do dogs do it doggie style?

you: why?

me: so they can both watch the gate.

you: wahahahahahahahaha.

soon someone will tell me another joke that i will laugh at very loudly, and then i will replace this last joke in my head with that new one. and then i will never ever again be able to remember this old doggie joke. even if a man held a gun to my temple and my life depended on it, guaranteed, i still wouldn't be able to find this joke anywhere in my database.

some people, like eddie (when you love him as much as i do we're on first name terms) are great joke rememberers. they can reel out dozens of jokes at any given time. the one about van der merwe, a couple about blondes with big tits, maybe one about a tortoise, something about jam. they have no problem. they set it up and then they nail it down with the punchline. every time.

me, not so much.

hey, did you hear the one about the... um... er... nope, i've got nothing for ya.

i love you eddie. please marry me. i don't even mind if you wear my clothes.

hello new follower number 79

hey there pops zn, new follower number 79. granted your number doesn't have a sexual position named after it, that i know of, but maybe that's a good thing. we like to welcome people personally here, see we did it here and here and here. i'm really glad you could make it, i know how busy you are. (well i don't, cos i don't know you in person, but i'm just guessing.)

hope you enjoy your stay. mwah, mwah.

the world's most racist desk.

the big guy found this, and i'm nicking it from him.
(the big guy in new york, not the big guy in upstairs.)

i haven't asked big guy's permission to nick it, but i thought i'd test that whole gentle giant theory. if i don't post again you know he bent over and squashed me with his pinkie finger.

look at what they're selling at target these days:



is this the world's most racist desk?

what's next? jewish girl's toaster? white guy's tennis shoes? coloured transvestite's peanut butter and jam samwiches?

and does this mean that it was previously owned by a black kid, or that only a black kid can buy it? what if a white kid really really really needs a desk?

seriously target, there must be a way of wording that sentence so that it's not completely racist. i'm not sure, maybe buy a hyphen, even some old brackets might do the trick.

thanks for finding this big guy. please don't squash me.

painting a different kind of pussy.

yesterday's series of crazy painted cats got me thinking.

i thought, you know... if people are so keen to paint their cats, i bet there's a whole horde of crazies out there who paint their pussies too!

i thought they probably have competitions and showcases and conventions for it.

so i visited my friend google.

and believe it or not, they don't!

i feel part phew and part awwwww about this.

there is remarkably little pubic painting going on.

in fact, this is the only example of 'down there' painting i could find on the entire internetweb:



pretty impressive hey? but possibly photoshopped, one can't be sure.


i also stumbled accross these guys:

betty beauty is a company that has created a specially formulated pubic hair dye.

it turns out while people are not painting their pussies, they are most certainly dying them.

the product looks like this:

blue hey? interesting. would blue pubic hair make one frigid?

the neon pink is also pretty interesting.

and if i was a natural blonde i might consider dying mine black or mousy brown, just to fuck with my guy's head. he he he, men never actually know what they're getting for real these days, poor chaps.

the only downside to dying ones pubic hair that i can think of right this second is that then you could never recreate that cool greying beard when you paint a man's head onto your private parts as per above.

here are some of their satisfied client's comments. i was hoping one of them would post some pics, but no such luck:

yay lisa, nothing worse than a gray pube. and you pluck one, ten more come to it's funeral.

whoa! who actually says 'i scream alleluia throught the land'? nobody speaks like that, laurie, you big crazy! glad you got your pube situation sorted though.

dude, trust me, that is not what your doctor will be thinking when you go for your check-up!

um men dye their pubes? really? seriously? ok. well. um alright. i suppose. all part of manscaping.

metrosexual much?

ultimately we might all just have a little too much time on our hands.

you go elizabeth, you go out there and be blonde. the world is ready and waiting.

i am a shoe whore

it's official.


nik the greek from this fabulous blog - my bizarre world just nominated me for a shoe whore award.


it's like the oscars, only more shoey.


i love shoes. have close on a hundred million pairs. i know, it's despicable.


thanks nik.


to celebrate i shall go out and buy a new pair of shoes immediately.


although probably not these ones:

or these ones:

people who paint cats.

on sunday night a woman on carte blanche married her dog. and now this.

crazy extreme, inappropriate pet lovers, what the fuck happened to you?

were you dropped on the head? did you sniff detergent? or are you just not getting laid enough? i don't get it.

here we go, you couldn't make this shit up. please meet people who paint their cats.

yes. they take paintbrushes and some paint and this is what they make -

purdy tat:

embarrassed cat, hiding from his friends, in a tree and praying for rain:

just plain incredibly racist cat:

ah, tartan cat:

or rather, matchy matchy cat:

i wonder if that cat's wearing anything under his kilt?

lady - on any planet, in any universe, in any language, in any culture, that's just not cool. in fact it's a little bit creepy. if your cat wanted a bad hairdo it would have come back reincarnated as, well, as you.

turning a perfectly good house cat into an acid flashback cat. i don't like it but i must admit, it's pretty amazing artwork.

ah yes, now that's the cat lover we've come to recognise and love. the lonely batty old spinster who likes her vodka, has forty two cats and is as mad as a crazy mad thing on a whoppingly insane day.

even without the paint job this is one crazy looking cat. seriously lady that's just cruel. the other neighbourhood cats are going to beat the living crap out of him. how will his patriotism help him then? also surely he's siamese, not american?

ah monseiur, the old matching tache routine. chicks dig it. throw in the added french insinuation and you'll have all the pussy you ever wanted.

meet the elton john of cats. ie: incredibly gay, but a great pianist!

ah, owl cat. he's way smarter than other cats in the neighbourhood. unlike his owner.

did you ever see mimi in that tv show - the drew carey show? say no more.

that's who these few remind me of.

this next one is my personal favourite; halloween cat.

the dog is so going to crap himself when he sees this:

will someone please start having sex with this guy so that he stops torturing his cat.

oh no wait, sorry, i only just got a good look at him. nobody should have to do that.


what did charlie chaplain ever do to deserve being that cat's asshole?

i actually wouldn't mind owning this next cat - i know, it goes against everything i believe to be normal, but still it looks kind of funky:

oh fuck, they're sucking me in with their crazy hypnotic cat painting ways! quick somebody punch me in the face.

hey crazy cat lady, get a fricken life. your cat does not now, nor will it ever want to tongue kiss you. it's a cat, you're a human. deal with it.

and the book that started it all.

he he he the ethics of feline aesthetics.

should rather be called 'the madness of crazy lunatic cat lovers'.