And the Pigs' Blood Shall Be Doused Upon...

The residual leftovers of my whinefest of an illness coupled with the Tylenol PM fog through which I am wading has caused a vertitable deadness of my mind. Therefore, in lieu of writing nine paragraphs analyzing the obvious intricate parralels between Charles in Charge's dimwitted yet lovable beefcake Buddy Lembeck and everyone's favorite absolutist French monarch, Sun King Louis XIV, instead, I am going to bestow upon some very worthy recipients the first ever

"My God, Will Someone Please Just Go Ahead And Throw A Giant Vat of Pig Blood on This Tool Award."

The very special inaugural award is a combo effort, aimed at the two biggest queafheads on the planet. The fact that I am, again, wasting valuable this blog is eggsalady space on these two ragbiscuits shows just how diphenhydramine-addled my brain really is. Oh, well. Here you go, spacewasters. The first ever My God, Will Someone Please Just Go Ahead And Throw A Vat of Pig Blood on This Tool Award goes to not one, but two tools: the festive Easter craptards, Spencer and Heidi Assmunch. Congratulations, Prince and Princess Played Out, on making me really pissed at one of the best holidays out there solely because you are pretending you are the plastic representatives of said holiday. You blow.

watch out, kid: doucharama is contagious.

Tomorrow I will do my best to be lucid enough to omit any urges to include craphounds such as these two. Until then, though, check out humor-blogs.com and humor.alltop.com

This one's for you, Humanity.

In response to the following astute little observation my spouse fired my way today - "You know, your posts don't always have to be so long," - I am going to grab the hint by the satchel and proffer a hasty stocking stuffer, just for you.

Today, I am not writing my dissertation on the ill-fated downfall of Willis Drummond. Instead, I am humbly presenting to you a Wednesday Limerick Duo.

Here you are.

There was a young skeez from the Hills,

Whose fake lips and teets paid the bills.

But in Skanky’s defense,

It’s the work of a Spence.

Stupid hooch, all our brain cells she kills.

There once was a wank named P. Shore

Who became quite the media whore.

Many girls on their knees,

Got a taste of the Weas,

And their dignity flew out the door.




There you go, honey. Brevity.

now you have time to click here: humor-blogs.com