idiotpruf

The blog that prevents scurvy…as long as you eat orange slices while you read it.

Archive for the category “lists”

Help Me Finish Something!

I need help.If you’re anything like me (and if you are, you have my deepest sympathies) the draft section of your blog’s dashboard is littered with unfinished posts.

After tirelessly combing through dozens of drafts (for at least 10 or 15 minutes) I came up with this short list of possible drafts to finish and post.

I’m a Peon: At the time there seemed no need to finish this; it just seemed too self-evident.

Mad Scientists Living Under Oprah’s House: This was to be a post about how Oprah is genetically engineering a race of super smart and evil monkeys to help her take over the world. Again, just too self-evident.

I’m a Moron #Yolo: I had seen a tweet that read: Just took a dump on my bosses car. #Yolo. I imagined a post containing a series of subsequent tweets from this person, ending with the tweet: Just got to know my new cellmate Brutus and he’s roughed handed. #Yolo.

A Little Wrong or Horribly Wrong: This post stemmed from my overhearing a patron in a dining establishment complain that their order was horribly wrong because they received ice tea rather than lemonade. My supposition was that receiving ice tea rather than lemonade is only a little wrong. Had they received a glass of antifreeze or hemlock or alpaca pee, then their order would have been horribly wrong.

A Day in the ACME Complaint Department: I thought it would be funny to do a one-sided phone call (Bob Newhart style) of a person in the ACME complaint department taking a call from an angry Wile E. Coyote, because one of their products had again detonated in his face and slammed him into the side of a mountain.

road runner

This is about to go horribly wrong.

Reasons to Throw Rocks at Things: There has to be several.

Why do Hillbillies Have Weird Faces: This popped up on my search term page. Some poor individual came to this blog looking for an answer to that question; I fear I’ve let them down.

Toad Lickers Unite: It is high time we illuminate the plight of the toad licker in this nation.

homer simpson

Homer is just one of the many downtrodden toad lickers.

A Temper Tantrum and a Mostly Jet Black Truck: This is a true story about a giant blowhard of a man and how he parked his jet black truck in the wrong place.

Let Me Explain: Another true story about the time I witnessed a co-worker try to explain to a supervisor why he had called-off on Friday. His story began with “I got arrested” and then got increasingly worse.

Let me know which of these posts should be finished and published. (Or more than one–there is a plethora.)

I live to do your bidding.

 

My Sincerest Apologies

sea monkeyA few months ago I detailed how distraught I was after discovering I had missed National Toothache Day.

This pales in comparison to that oversight.

Yesterday was National Sea-Monkey Day.

I MISSED NATIONAL SEA-MONKEY DAY!

What the hell? It feels like I just woke up on December, 26th and thought to myself: it feels like I missed something yesterday–why do I crave eggnog?

Sea-Monkeys have been such a huge part of my life and this blog. I even wrote an entire post about how Sea-Monkeys are preferable to my aunts and uncles.

(But to be fair, a rotting bloated corpse infected with Ebola is preferable to my aunts and uncles.)

I’ve laughed with Sea-Monkeys. I’ve wept with Sea-Monkeys. I can’t think of a single important event in my life of which Sea-Monkeys weren’t an integral part.

(Except maybe when I lost my virginity–there were no Sea-Monkeys involved with that–I’m not a weirdo.)

Sea-Monkeys are fantastic companions:

  • They’re great listeners.
  • They almost never interrupt you.
  • They don’t hog the bathroom–they go right in the bowl.
  • They never take the last beer.
  • They laugh with me, not at me.
  • They hate mimes as much as I do.
  • They never touch the remote–they’re happy with what I want to watch.
  • They never get anchovies on the pizza–anchovies are their natural enemies.
  • They’re really into William Blake.
  • And if for some reason they do act up a little, I can just leave a bottle of cocktail sauce by their bowl. They’re brine shrimp–they get the picture.

I want to extend my deepest and most sincere apologies to all of the Sea-Monkeys out there: I will never let you down again.

Final Note: There is absolutely no truth to the rumor that I once guzzled a bowl of Sea-Monkeys on a drunken dare. It is a heinous fabrication of the worst kind. A vicious, nasty, horrible, deliciously salty lie.

fish

The anchovy–natural enemy of the Sea-Monkey.

 

Update: More Bigfoot Sightings at Speed’eez Sports Bar and Grill

idiotprufs

A photo of Bigfoot at Speed’eez Sports Bar and Grill (as always, Bigfoot ducked just out of sight as the picture was taken).
(image source: goerie.com)

North East, Pa.–Since the first reports of Bigfoot sightings in the small town of North East, Pennsylvania at Speed’eez Sports Bar and Grill, there have been some changes.

It seems his presence has dramatically increased in recent weeks as his wife, Lady Bigfoot, has left him. Evidently she grew weary of his nights of cavorting at Speed’eez, downing 32 ounce mugs of Yuengling Lager, and gorging himself on Buffalo wings, while she was back in the forest, foraging and flipping over dead logs looking for grubs.

“Do you know how much effort it takes to keep your home tidy when you live in the forest?” Lady Bigfoot demanded. “There are bugs everywhere and raccoons get into everything.”

According to reports, Lady Bigfoot’s failing patience was finally exhausted when Bigfoot came home with suspicious blonde hairs stuck to his fur. He claimed the hairs were from a border collie, but that only lead to additional and somewhat disturbing questions.

Reportedly, in the wake of Lady Bigfoot’s departure, Bigfoot’s mood has become dour and he has grown ill-tempered. “He’s always bitching and moaning about something,” one patron of Speed’eez commented, “but you can’t really say anything…he’s so freaking huge.”

The list of things that irritate Bigfoot is myriad and growing:

  • The way squirrels smell when they’re wet.
  • The unnerving noise chipmunks make when they’re having sex.
  • Every song the B-52s have ever recorded.
  • How everyone refers to him using the generic term Bigfoot. His given name is Rupert; why does nobody use it?
  • The inexplicable way Lady Bigfoot always shaved her armpits but absolutely nothing else.
  • The creepy way rabbits chew their food.
  • Girls named Traci that dot the I with a smiley face.
  • When the Jersey Devil pops by unannounced, and you just can’t get him to leave.
  • Justin Bieber (to be fair, all of animal kingdom hates Justin Bieber, especially badgers).
  • When people mistake him for a bear; bears are uninformed and dull-witted creatures.
  • That idiot Poe; he always laughs a bit too loudly at those Jack Link’s messin’ with Sasquatch commercials.
  • Chiggers.
  • The way nobody can take a picture of him that doesn’t turn out blurry and out of frame.
  • Those morons from The Animal Planet. They’re always crashing through the forest, making a racket, and using the term squatchy. What the hell does squatchy even mean.
  • The way deer just crap anywhere they want.
  • The way unicorns crash around with absolutely no regard for where they’re sticking those horns.
  • The way bartenders get pissed when he tips them with grubs and tree bark.
  • When hippies come out to the woods, sit around a campfire, smoke pot, and recite really bad Haiku.
  • Hippies.
  • Haiku.
  • Bigfoot hunters that think they know so much about him. They’ve never once sat down with him, had a beer, and talked. He has opinions; he’s not a bear.

However, in recent days Bigfoot’s spirits have been buoyed by the arrival of friends. Yeti has made the trip from the Himalayas, and The Skunk Ape has arrived from Florida.

But with the arrival of Bigfoot’s friends, a few problems have arisen.

“The only thing ‘Abominable’ about Yeti are his manners,” one of the bartenders related. “If have to listen to him tell one more story about how much a yak can crap, I’m going to lose it.”

“Of course The Skunk Ape smells horrible,” said a patron named Bob, “but what’s worse…he hogs the jukebox and plays nothing but Steve Perry solo stuff.”

Tensions came to a head when a patron called Poe accused Bigfoot of giving him deer ticks. Later that evening Poe was found in the street, stomped into the pavement, and covered with giant foot prints. The other patrons seemed to be okay with it.

The local authorities instituted a ban on all mythological creatures while an investigation is conducted.

“I can’t believe this happened right before my busy season,” an exasperated Tooth Fairy commented.

poe beaten up

An artist’s rendition of Poe. Oddly, this was before the attack.

 

 

The Junk Drawer

messy drawer

Everybody has one of the drawers in their home that is a repository for anything and everything:

  • Assorted rubber-bands that are no longer stretchy.
  • A flashlight with no batteries.
  • Batteries.
  • A roll of unused Mr. Yuk stickers.
  • A scrap of paper with the number for the poison center hotline hastily scribbled on it.
  • That menu from the China Jade restaurant that jams the drawer every time you try to open it.
  • $2.79 in Canadian coins. (Canadians just call them coins.)
  • That cool rock you found that is shaped just like a duck.
  • Duct tape. (Not on a roll, just in a wad.)
  • A box of 20 ultra petite condoms. (My junk drawer is not your junk drawer–don’t judge me.)
  • The manual for the toaster oven you threw away four years ago after the toaster oven broke because you didn’t follow the instructions in the manual.
  • The remains of the smoke alarm that malfunctioned, caught on fire, and nearly burned your house down.
  • Irony.
  • The beginning of really angry letter you were writing to the smoke alarm company, but never finished because your pen leaked ink all over it.
  • A pen that writes, but leaks ink all over the place.
  • An ink stain.
  • An empty bottle of stain remover.
  • An expired coupon for a bottle of stain remover.
  • A pen that doesn’t write at all, but still leaks ink all over the place.
  • A pencil with a broken tip.
  • A broken pencil sharpener.
  • 14 buttons of different size, color, and styles, none of which match any article of clothing in your household.
  • A piece of metal with no discernible purpose.
  • A piece of plastic with no discernible purpose.
  • A remote control that doesn’t appear to control anything in your home.
  • A mason jar lid to the mason jar you broke.
  • A mason jar’s worth of loose nuts and bolts, none of which match.
  • Five marbles. (I lost most of my marbles years ago.)
  • A box cutter that no longer retracts, that you cut your hand on every time you look for something in the drawer.
  • A box of Band-Aids, but with only the big weird shaped ones left.
  • The bottle cap that was a winner for a twenty ounce bottle of Pepsi Free, which if you’re not mistaken was discontinued in the mid-eighties.
  • A cassette tape cover to Cargo by Men at Work–you have no idea where the cassette is. (Also probably a casualty of the mid-eighties.)
  • A self-help book about uncluttering your life…that you’ve never read.
  • A bottle of Elmer’s glue that has completely solidified.
  • A stray knob that you would have reattached if your bottle of Elmer’s glue hadn’t completely solidified.
  • A partially used box of trick birthday candles that you haven’t used since they gave your aunt Gertrude an aneurysm.
  • The Queen of England. (More Canadian money.)
  • Half of a twenty dollar bill that you refuse to get rid of because the moment you do you’ll find the other half.
  • Four incomplete decks of cards.
  • Various unpaid parking tickets.
  • A summons.
  • Stamps of various values–thank you postal service.
  • Wet-wipes: handy for wiping the pepper-spray from your eyes.
  • A restraining order.
  • AAA brochures.
  • AA brochures.
  • A bunch of useless and pointless lists.
queen in red

It’s a bit cramped, but she’s in there.

 

Have a Ball of Hair

snowball

Today is National Hairball Awareness Day!

Are you as excited about that as I am?

Today is the day we acknowledge our feline friends and their propensity to groom themselves to point hacking up a wet ball of fur on your good shoes (Your cat literally stepped over multiple pairs of old sneakers to deposit her gift on expensive leather.)

I’ve acknowledged hairballs. You are now aware of hairballs. Mission complete.

But today is also World Day for Safety and Health at Work.

You may think this is just a coincidence. You could not possibly be more mistaken.

Note: honestly, you could be more mistaken. If you to say the Earth is flat, or that Mars is populated with tiny little men who look like Marvin the Martian from Bugs Bunny cartoons, or that the moon is made of green cheese, or that Kayne West is really a wonderfully kind and affable guy who is just misunderstood, you wouldn’t be more mistaken. Like that time I said mimes don’t suck.

Marvin the martian

“Martians don’t suffer from hairballs.”

Hairballs can have an enormous influence on health and safety at work.

Have you ever been near a coworker who suddenly began to hack up a hairball?

There are countless situations when it is dire to have this happen at work.

  • When operating a forklift.
  • When operating a chainsaw.
  • When juggling chainsaws. (This mostly applies to professional jugglers.)
  • When juggling knives. (Professional jugglers and Benihana chefs.)
  • When performing delicate surgery. (Sometimes you have to reattach the fingers of chainsaw jugglers.)
  • During the closing arguments of high profile murder case. (If Marcia Clark hadn’t hacked up that giant hairball on juror #5, O.J. Simpson would have never gotten off.)
  • When jousting for the honor of a fair maiden. (This one hasn’t really been applicable for a few centuries. But back in the day it was a serious matter.)
  • When landing a lunar module.
  • Space travel in general. (What do you think really happened to Apollo 13?)
  • If the coworker hacking up the hairball is standing a little too close to your lunch.

See what I mean?

And that is why today is also Workers Memorial Day.

Did you know that more than one hundred workers gave their lives in the completion of the Hoover Dam? Mostly from hairball incidents.

So take a moment today to stop and consider the countless lives that were lost in the building of the infrastructure of this great nation.

And think about hairballs.

apoollo 13 movie

That liar Tom Hanks and his film of propaganda.

Hammock Time–U Can’t Touch This

hammock spring

What could go wrong here?

The signs of spring are all around you:

  • The sound of your neighbor cursing bitterly as he scrapes the ice from his car transitions to the sound of your neighbor cursing bitterly as he scrapes the bird crap from his car.
  • The neighbor gets out his mooning garden gnome that will soon be facing your kitchen window.
  • You get out your shovel that will soon be smashing a mooning garden gnome…allegedly.
  • The final remnants of where Gerald the neighbor kid wrote insults to you in the snow with his pee, have melted away. (Gerald’s impressive vocabulary is surpassed only by his apparent bladder size.)
  • You look into the purchase of an electrified fence just powerful enough to repel a small child.
  • You dig out your hammock and prepare to hang it up.

Ah yes, that sweet summertime relaxation that is your hammock.

Every year you gleefully hang your hammock as you sing a song you’ve named Hammock Time. It’s a song that you’ve cleverly invented specifically for the annual occasion.

Note: Hammock Time is just U Can’t Touch This with the lyrics ‘hammer time’ replaced with the lyrics ‘hammock time.’ But you’re proud of it regardless.

Hammock placement is vital to reap the full supine benefits of the hammock experience. You had the perfect spot for your hammock until those butchers at Penelec decided no tree, branch, hedge, or growing life of any type should come within a thousand feet of their precious wires.

tree maintenance

Just a few examples of Penelec butchery.
(Image source: gooferie)

When choosing the proper location for your hammock, there are many factors to be taken into consideration:

  • You want an area with a nice breeze.
  • You want an area with shade.
  • You need to be certain there isn’t a bird’s nest directly above you. You don’t want bird crap smacking you in the face when you’re trying to relax. You really don’t want bird crap smacking you in the face in general; it’s a simple issue of sanitation.
  • Don’t put your hammock near a hornet’s nest; hornets are ill-tempered and have a twisted sense of boundary.
  • Don’t put your hammock over a pit of vipers. If you drop something in that pit–that’s where it’s staying.
  • If you can at all avoid it, don’t put your hammock on the edge of an active volcano. It only takes one pyroclastic flow to ruin your day.
  • You need a spot that assures a modicum of privacy if you like to relax in the nude. (Just another reason to avoid hornet’s nests when placing your hammock.)
  • You don’t want to place your hammock directly above another person’s hammock if your hammock isn’t properly secured and could potentially come crashing down on the person below you. (I’m looking at you, Lance.)
  • Despite the many valuable life lessons I’m certain you learned from Gilligan’s Island, the placement of your hammock between two coconut trees is not one of those lessons. Coconut trees have coconuts. Coconuts + gravity + your face = eating through a straw.
  • Don’t put your hammock anywhere Gerald the neighbor kid can reach you. If you have to dig a moat and fill it with piranha, do it.

If you’re anything like me, you are going to enjoy a summer filled with sweet Hammock Time.

Final note: If you are anything like me, you need to change everything about yourself immediately.

idiotprufs mooning gnome

If you find this little fella facing your hammock–then it’s really hammer time.

Pi a La Mode and Butterflies

butterfly

MARCH 14
National Children’s Craft Day
National Learn About Butterflies Day
Pi Day
National Potato Chip Day

I am so glad I checked the National Days Calendar today. I’d be tearing my hair out if I had missed National Potato Chip Day again. It is that magical time that only comes once a year.

And today is also National Pi Day! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Pi lately.

Well, to be honest, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Pie lately. But National Pie Day is January 23rd and can’t wait that long for some delicious pastry goodness.

And pies are round, so you can use Pi to determine the circumference of your pie. I think I’ll celebrate by getting myself a nice blueberry pie and have 3.14 slices…a la mode.

But the really exciting thing about today: it’s National Learn About Butterflies Day.

So I’m going to impart some of my extensive butterfly knowledge to the fine readers of this blog.

  • Butterflies are insects.
  • Flies refer to butterflies as the “clowns” of the insect world.
  • Ironically, butterflies don’t like butter and they really hate flies.
  • Butterflies are attracted to nectar-producing flowers that have red, yellow, orange, pink, or purple blossoms. Much like many of the Kardashians. (Similar brain mass.)
  • Butterflies often have brightly colored wings with unique patterns made up of tiny scales. Much like many of the Kardashians.
  • Butterflies hate being compared to the Kardashians.
  • Butterflies hate it when you mistake them for moths. (Moths are the mimes of the insect world.)
  • Mothra is a giant butterfly that routinely battles Godzilla…and occasionally a Kardashian.
  • According to a gardening website, you can make butterfly snacks. (I ate twelve butterflies before I realized the website meant snacks for butterflies.)
  • Butterflies taste horrible and they get stuck in your teeth.
  • Lepidopterophobic is what you call someone with a fear of butterflies. The word sissy also works.
  • Scientists report there are between 15,000 and 20,000 different species of butterflies.
  • Scientists spend way too much time counting butterflies.
  • Monarch butterflies will travel thousands of miles to reproduce.
  • Butterfly Tinder sucks.
  • Most caterpillars are herbivores; the rest love pulled pork.
  • Butterflies have taste receptors on their feet.
  • Despite that thing about their feet–butterflies tend to be very smug.
Mothra Godzilla

Mothra battling a Kardashian…possibly Godzilla, it’s hard to tell.

You are now practically a butterfly expert.

Now you can spend the day munching on potato chips, calculating the volume of spheres, and ruminating on your newfound butterfly expertise.

You’re Welcome.

Final Note:

You may have noticed I ignored the fact that today is also National Children’s Craft Day.

Yes. Yes, I did.

bowl of butterflies

This is a bowl of snacks for butterflies. It is not a bowl of butterflies to snack on…Idiot.

Just to Reiterate: Get the Hell Out of the Way

waiting in line

“Is she talking about her gout again? Kill me now.”

I know I’ve touched on the subject of checkout line etiquette on more than one occasion. And I know what you’re thinking:

why are you beating a dead horse?

It’s dead.

It’s been dead.

Just stop it.

You’re embarrassing yourself.

Would you beat Seabiscuit?

Seabiscuit’s a dead horse.

Seabiscuit was an underdog that overcame adversity.

Seabiscuit’s story was inspirational and heartwarming.

How dare you.

I’d wager that you didn’t even cry at the end of the Old Yeller.

Are you made of stone?

Old Yeller was a faithful and trusted companion that had to be put down because he contracted rabies protecting his master.

Monster.

Anyway, recent events have led me to believe that I need to revisit the subject of checkout line etiquette. First generally and then specifically.

Just a few things you shouldn’t do in a check-out line, generally:

  • Haggle over the validity of a ten-cent coupon for meatless vegan sausage. I mean what’s the point, it’s just awful. Go put it back on the shelf and calmly leave the store.
  • Suddenly realize, moments after the cashier has rung up your total, that you’ve forgotten something vital; something that you absolutely mustn’t leave the store without or your wife will give you that “how useless are you” speech. Retreat to the back of the store to retrieve the overlooked item. Take an eternity because you have trouble locating the item. Return fifteen minutes later with your item and an apologetic grin. (If the item you return with is meatless vegan sausage, you will be beaten sadistically.)
  • Try to pay with a personal check if don’t have any identification. How long have you been alive on this planet?
  • Try to pay with cash only to find you’re a little bit short. Then instead of putting something back (because everything you’re getting is absolutely vital, even the meatless vegan sausage), you rummage through all your jacket pockets to find that all you have are some loose Tic Tacs and an assortment of Canadian coins. (Obviously, if you’re in Canada this is not a problem; Tic Tacs are widely used as currency there.)
  • Juggle running chain saws. There are a lot of people in close proximity.
  • Lick the face of the person next to you and scream, “I have Ebola.”
  • Get in the express line with a cart full of items.
  • Get in the express line with a cart full of items. Then lick the face of the person next to you and scream, “I have Ebola.”
  • Mime. (Miming should never be done anywhere for any reason.)
  • Loudly sing Justin Bieber songs.
  • Quietly sing Justin Bieber songs.
  • Be Justin Bieber.

And now, something you shouldn’t do in a check-out line, specifically:

Don’t wait until you’ve been completely checked out, and all your items bagged, to start a personal conversation with the cashier.

  • We don’t care that your gout has been acting up.
  • We don’t care that your child’s soccer coach won’t put him in the game. Your kid sucks deal with it.
  • We don’t care that your niece is in a loveless marriage. She shouldn’t have married her second cousin; we know it’s legal, but ick.
  • We don’t care that your gynecologist was arrested. He should have never been in that opium den, to begin with. Do you really want a gynecologist who frequents opium dens?
  • But mostly, we couldn’t give a rodent’s behind who you think should have been eliminated from Dancing With The Stars. There was a brief fleeting moment when we cared, but it passed.

If you believe the people in your general sphere desperately need to know your opinion–you’re gravely mistaken.

Thank you.

Addendum:

If you’re upset because you’ve never seen Old Yeller and now I’ve ruined it for you, I have only one thing to say: Rosebud was a sled.

rosebud

At least I didn’t reveal that Bruce Willis’ character in Sixth Sense was dead the entire time.

It’s not About Me

egomania

An artist’s rendition of myself.

I’ve been asked why this blog doesn’t have an about page.

Do you think I’m an egomaniac who can’t stop talking about himself and who constantly refers to himself in the third person?

Well, idiotprufs doesn’t do that.

There are many valid reasons why I don’t have an about page and many of them have nothing to do with the outstanding warrants. Here are just a few.

  • All of the outstanding warrants. (Since when did society get so touchy about not wearing pants?)
  • When this blog did have an about page, it seemed to be a repository for diatribes of hate. I had to block Grandma from leaving comments altogether.
  • To prevent stalkers. I am constantly being stalked by women. Mostly it’s because they have subpoenas for me. But that’s still stalking.
  • Plausible deniability. If I blog about having a cousin who’s half spider monkey, I can claim it’s a different blogger who coincidentally has a cousin who’s half spider monkey. (It’s really me…don’t tell anyone.)
  • I’m trying to keep a low profile because of the alien abductions. I’m tired of all their probing. Not anal probing, they just ask me a lot of really personal questions…although most of the questions are about my anus.
  • I’m trying to reduce the number of times I get pepper-sprayed to ten or twelve times a year.
  • I’m boring. If you need to read about me to be entertained, you have serious problems. (The fact that you’re reading this blog right now is an indicator that you may have issues.)
  • I’m still being hunted by the mimes. It’s just a good thing all their weapons are imaginary. Stupid mimes.
  • I’m very reclusive. I’m like Howard Hughs without the money, fame, or achievement. It’s just me alone in a room with jars of toenail clippings.
  • Pure and unapologetic laziness. An about page is just so much effort.

I may relent in the near future and post something about myself–I’m horribly weak. (See, there’s something about me.)

Final Note: while I may have none of the achievements of Howard Hughs, I am dating Katherine Hepburn. Actually, it’s Katherine Hepburn’s ghost. She’s cheating on me with Spencer Tracey’s ghost. It’s all very disturbing.

Hepburn

“You’re no Howard Hughs–except for the debilitating paranoia.”

12 Reasons Lady Gaga’s Costume Designer Hates Her Job

In honor this year’s Super Bowl halftime entertainment.

One:

It’s ridiculously hard to hem a strip steak.

lady-gaga-costume-240a

Accessories include: matching belt, handbag, and A1 Steak Sauce.

Two:

You’re constantly being followed by packs of feral dogs.

The rest of you-she's this way.

“The rest of you, she’s this way.”

Three:

The fact that half of her wardrobe needs refrigeration.

More perishable clothing from that trouble maker Ellen.

More perishable clothing from that trouble maker Ellen.

Four:

That queasy feeling you get in your stomach when you go to a barbeque at Lady Gaga’s house, and she serves steaks and salad.

Five:

Having to deal with Britney Spears’ uppity costume designer, every time you ask to borrow her snake.

Just an All-American girl and her freakishly huge snake.

Just an All-American girl and her freakishly huge snake.

Six:

That confusingly contradictory tattoo she has on her butt, of Winnie The Pooh with his head caught in a honey pot.

I'm so adorable that it's confusingly contradictory.

“I’m so adorable that it’s confusingly contradictory.”

Seven:

They way she gets yellow powder over everything after she wolfs down a bag of Cheetos.

Nothing wrecks the mood of dead-carcass costume, more than Cheetos dust.

Nothing wrecks the mood of a dead-carcass costume, more than Cheetos dust.

Eight:

When anti-fur protesters throw blood on Lady Gaga, and it makes her costume better.

Nine:

That unnerving feeling you get, that this one is going to send you straight to Hell.

This one's gonna cost you.

This one’s gonna cost you.

Ten:

Your warm childhood memories of Sesame Street and Kermit The Frog have been destroyed forever.

Hi-Ho, I'm Kermit The Frog-help me please!

“Hi-Ho, I’m Kermit The Frog–HELP ME PLEASE!”

Eleven:

When people ask you the innocuous question: “What did you do at work today?” And you pause momentarily, then sob uncontrollably.

Twelve:

The weight of the horrible knowledge that you helped turn this girl:

Doesn't she look sweet/

Doesn’t she look sweet?

Into this girl:

gaga

Post Navigation