Miss Tennessee Rachel Smith was crowned Miss USA recently. Methinks it had much to do with her prominent camel toe during the swimsuit competition.
The 10 worst rap album covers ever made. Sadly, I used to own one of them. I can only wish it were M$ Tee Having Thing$ or Tec-9 Straight From Tha Ramp.
After the move this weekend the wife and I will be within spitting distance of the best liquor store and mini-golf in Colorado.
The Cunt Coloring Book; artistic fun for the entire family! Even hardware store bull dykes waxing philosophical on the Amazon message board agree:
This book is so wonderful. Never mind the fact that I've been having a blast breaking out the crayons and coloring the beautifully drawn vaginas. But this book helps to de-mystify and remind women (or men) of the beauty of the female parts. This book contains about 25 drawings of flower-like genitalia. Each drawing is beautiful and unique - just in the same way that every woman is beautiful in a different way. This book presents women's sexuality is such a matter-of-fact and positive manner. I wish all women could see this book as a child, again as a teen, and again as an adult - to remember to always be proud and never be ashamed.
Vagina coloring books are not the only thing that present women's sexuality in a matter-of-fact or positive manner. Take this for example. And this. And this.
A multi-tasking rapist. I think rape etiquette should tell you to set a cell phone on 'Airplane Mode' or at least leave it in the getaway car.
A mutant skin disease from the Eastern bloc. I usually pride myself on sniffing out photo manipulation of any sort and this seems to be legit. The only red flag is Wikipedia not having an entry for Lewandowsky-Lutz Dysplasia.
Her boobs, her boobs, her boobs are okay. Her sweater puppies are beyond okay; they are fantastic.
I was just informed by Team Hofkamp that the following video was playing at a neighborhood CB & Potts this past Friday during the family alloted dining hour.
You made that family dinner hour your bitch, CB & Potts.
The moment of truth arrived for the wife and I as potential property owners this past Saturday; the dreaded home inspection. The first few times we walked into the house we were awash in euphoria and statements like "We could put our [furniture piece] in this corner" or "We could do [short-term project that will turn into a long-term project] this summer." The reckoning arrived in the form of an elderly gentlemen with shaky hands and a red Geo Metro. Being as the home inspection is a make-or-break affair, I called in Big Guns (read: my Dad) to tag along while the inspector eviscerated our future residence. My old man is the working class hero of North Metro Denver, somewhat akin to Bruce Springsteen minus the gravely voice and the E-Street Band. Whenever something breaks, my Dad "Has a guy" for it. Usually that guy has a blue collar handle like Jimbo or Murph and will charge you little to no labor costs to fix the problem. The inspector was a friendly and competent man, and aside from my Dad correcting him about an electrical box and aluminum wiring being legal for certain types of jobs, he wrote a fine report. He mentioned on numerous occasions that the house was "well built" and "has good guts." Aside from some leaky gutters, a pipe that needs tightening, a sewer line scoping and siphon valves that need to be installed on the sprinkler system, the future homestead is in solid working order. On a related note my Dad just sent over a quote this morning that his sprinkler guy Bruno gave him to install the siphon valves. He agreed to do most of the work for cost.
