Backed Up

I've hit a little episode of bloggers block. More than half of a post has been ready for a week, and i can't seem to eek it out.
Good thing it's Fleet Week here in NYC.


if anybody out there has any techniques to butt-douche the mind, they would be greatly appreciated.

Once More, With Feeling

A quick stop for a bottle of water at America's Discount Store in midtown turned into an unexpected photo sesh. I've covered this store before and I'm trying to stay away from documenting the same spots, but I never know what I might come across, and when the product talks, I listen.

I thought it was weird that this pack of baby wipes provided a pictoral instruction of how to water-torture a baby.

Yay! Wedgies for all ages. (re: Bloopers for Men)

Double Yay! Wedgies for all genders.

I can't help but wonder though, does the "slightly imperfect" refer to the undies, or to the "girls" that these undies are for? Because in that case, these may be special undies for the little transgendered kids that we saw chilling with Barbara Walters last week, or perhaps those with fetal alchol syndrome. You see how far apart that girl's eyes are? It's not dissimilar to FA Face.

From the look on her face, i'm guessing these were ribbed for her pleasure.

Someone should take this idea, and make a CGI animated movie about a group of hyenas that work in a sweatshop but aspire to be comedians. They strike out on their own making humorous socks, and invite some tap dancing penguins with frostbitten antartic feet to endorse their products. Licensing potential galore?
Not a good idea? Oh.
Anyhoo, I think I might go back and buy these socks. They're terrible, and that's great.

Little Debbie looks like she's been getting up to no good.

She appears to be dabbling in drugs....

Doing Dallas, 2 at a time.
(If there isn't already a porno spoof of this product there ought to be)

and constructing giant areolas for your buttcheeks.

These sound like something the Filipino coroner would find nestled between the legs of a hermetic old man who died in his treetop jungle hut.

This sounds like the perfect sex partner for a gay power bottom with high blood pressure, and a preference for white guys.

I love random use of the internet.
Like R. Kelly's album TP2.com, and Trick Daddy's album www.thug.com.
I wonder if there is anyone in the world named Dotcom yet. There should be.

woman: honey, do you love me?
man: i like you a lot, you just don't shimmer enough.

Tussy has been haunting me for more than half my life.
I had a close friend growing up, whose mother swore that her daughter was allergic to all deodorants, except this one, which is a cream deodorant. I figured it came with a pit spatula or something to apply it, but it doesn't. I found something incredibly revolting about that when I was about 11 years old, and I still do.

So my best friend and I get in her car one day, and she remembers she hasn't put on any deodorant, and she's getting sticky-icky. She asks If I have some. I do, in my backpack. I pass her my Vanilla scented Avon Cool Confidence Roll-on deodorant, that I keep handy for cases such as these. I too often forget to apply deodorant in the morning. She peers at the label. "Roll On? Cool Confidence? What is this?" Twists off the cap, and rolls it on. Approximately 30 seconds later, she looks at me, frowning, and says "More like moist insecurity!"

I am going to take a stab at what these deodorants are supposed to smell like.
This one is law enforcement.

This one is a blend of Allen Funt, and Dom DeLuise.

and this one is Mumm-Ra The Ever Living.

Now this, is a riot! Neon lice spray!
For some big fun, bug bomb a homeless shelter with this stuff, and then send all of the residents to a rave! Oh the wackiness that will ensue!

To A Restaurant, Upper Eschelon

You're not Kanye, and you didn't write your mom a song. I know it. Maybe you made her a lame mixtape that hopefully doesn't start with the line "Hey Mama, this that shit that make you move Mama" unless of course your mom is a stripper, or you happen to be the woman who unleashed that retard Will.I.Am through her hopefully regretful vagina. The question I am getting around to asking is, what did you do for your mom for Mother's Day? Here is my list of things I sensed available, that I wish came with an automatic smack to the face with a bologna log upon purchase.

You probably can't tell, but this is a mother's day lamp with faux roses.
and

Wolf shades.
Indie rock just turned into an adult contemporary gift.

That's like chump change you toss in a cup to the doo-wop guys on the subway.
Cheaper than an issue of Street News, or In Touch.
Treat your mom better than you do the homeless.

if this makes your mom feel special, she's crap and deserves it.

The mom that recieves the broken one is suicidal.
They say it's the thought that counts...And that's why she's suicidal.

get your shit together.

liar.

I bet gifts like these are unpopular in lesbian-run families. Who gets to be #1? Everybody can't be a winner.

Worlo.

i still don't believe you.

You might as well get her a shit bitch bear.

Unless she asks for one, I doubt your mom needs another mug. do you know what moms have gaggles of, besides pain in the ass kids? Mugs.

Love your mom every day. Stop the commercial bullshittery.

Fereshte Direct

My Fereshte

It started here. My Persian friend was on a family trip to the Grand Canyon, and on the advice of his Persian mother, bought a statuette of a little black angel in pajamas as a souvenir for me. That was kind of weird because I'd met the woman once. But I'm kinda weird, and I dug it big time. I like to know that I am in people's black thoughts (but do not confuse me with the guy from The Roots). Then I saw the movie Crash, and you know that scene where the Persian store owner guy busts a cap at the little hispanic girl and she doesn't die because the gun was loaded with blanks, and he breaks down all weepy like a bitch and calls her his fereshte? Well, that was the most hilarious scene in that rediculous movie and Fereshte means angel in Farsi. So, I named her that. In this Lomo Pop 9 photo, My Fereshte is perched inside my medicine cabinet, next to a box of "tattoo" band-aids purchased at a 99¢ Only Stores. She has since been injured in a cross-country move, and cannot be repaired with the simple peel and stick of a tattoo bandaid, but I will fix her soon. Especially because she might get some new friends, and I don't want her to have a handicapped deformity-inferiority complex. She's my alpha statuette.

In general I like photographs of toys, dolls and statuettes. They are cute, fantastic and creepy. Brooklyn's Dollar Dream and Jersey City's 99¢ Super Store (more on this place in a future post) supplied some stellar additions to my fancy. I am seriously considering starting a collection of statuettes. Like I need more junk. This post is way too about me, so let's cut the crap and get to sensin.

This is Heidi Klum's new baby Johan cuz the way he's propped up, his daddy must be a Seal.

This is adorable, and looks a lot like me as a baby. They really broke the mold with me, and like Missy Elliot says "my style can not be duplicated or recycled. This chick is a sick individual"
Narcisissm. Bite it.

Oprah's Angel Network

I feel like this is a scene from the aftermath of the Asian Tsunami. Babies floating on giant Papaya boats trying to eat, and survive drowning at the same time. Survival's a bitch.

One more baby and this would have been a hit TLC song.

Future video ho. She has been influenced by rap music at a very tender age, and is attempting to get her eagle on.

That Anne Geddes shit is mad corny.

Perez Hilton has nothing on me. Zahara Jolie and David Banda pose for their first photshoot for Bono's One campaign. 99 SENSE EXCLUSIVE!!!

Afro-lesbian wedding cake toppers. No lie. (Slight lesbo-exaggeration)

White babies are the new Guatemalan maids.
Whoever had the brilliant idea of sculpting a white baby plunging a toilet ought to be my best friend. And you know it ain't her log clog cuz the kid doesn't even use the toilet, she's still in diapers!

At some point, Jesus is going to become more than a role model for Christians, but for the Pro-Ana movement. It's inevitable.

Every statuette aisle has a red-light district for pedophiles and their little baby whores.
Seriously, what's up with that? If you look closely, they even have ass-crackletoe.

It's Oprah as Miss Sophia in the Color Purple: The Musical, and her little Gayle doll.

We just need one more with a microphone and we can package the three up, and sell them on BETQVC as the black american dream trio.

I swear I didn't put that little boy on the dog. But whoever did, thank you.