“Those Aren’t My Jarred Feces”
Now that tampons aren't allowed in the Texas Senate, here is how I imagine the conversation went when a bag inspector lifted a jar of poo from a citizen's purse.
Now that tampons aren't allowed in the Texas Senate, here is how I imagine the conversation went when a bag inspector lifted a jar of poo from a citizen's purse.
If the conditions that make you fat or skinny, exercise-addict or couch-potato, can be traced back to conditions out of your control, then who's fault is it? Your parents'.
Have you ever wanted to burn your neighbor's fucking house down? Here's how you can tell if you have to worry about one of them doing the same.
Fat stoners are funny in stoner comedies and in line at Taco Bell, but they aren't good roommates. Here's what to expect if you make the terrible decision to live with one.
The average male has no idea that a stent removal will be the most painful, emotionally scarring experience in their life. All the best to you and your penis, sir.
After consuming your marijuana or other THC-laced product, find a comfortable seat in your residence and prepare for a flood of serotonin.
When I think of food, I don't think of a rectangular chunk that looks like a gargoyle with a square asshole shit it out. Or a meal that looks like a bunch of scabs swimming in a puddle of whale semen.
Unfortunately for you, your underpants (if you're wearing them), and those around you (if there are people around), you just shat yourself. Don't worry, we've all been there before.
I'm a halfie: my mother is Cuban and my father is American. I'm not brown, I'm not white… I'm fucking khaki. And it sucks. Here's why.
Jeff walks me around his car, his hands tucked in his pockets, examining the vehicle with a detached vigilance, searching for the source of his troubles. Clearly, it goes beyond the car itself.
<p><em>Today I have for you some comedy sloppy seconds. I submitted a piece to the comedy website McSweeney's, but I guess it wasn't pseudo-intellectual enough or whatever. Here it is, you be the judge. </em></p><p><strong>The Genitals of the Future<br />by Paul Frank</strong></p>
If you think dining hall grub smells bad freshly cooked, imagine a girl, in a mini-skirt, in the middle of class, in the middle of the row, who just shit herself.