Someone keeps searching for the query string “Cheetos recipe stolen” and ending up at my site. I didn’t steal that shit nor did I blow Chester “The Molester” Cheetah to get it. Leave me alone and hire a better detective.

Sometimes I get some first hand news that nobody else gets. This is definately the case today as I have just received word from our most connected contact. Myself.

After the closing of the Olympics, all of the atheletes proceeded to go back to their respected countries and celebrate their victories or agonize about their defeat. Embracing his Gold Medal, unbridled celebration was the case for Shaun “The Flying Tomato” White. On the Transatlantic flight, Shaun was on top of the world. Well, he was at least above the world in an airplane. Not liking the end of the pilots qualifying run, “The Flying Tomato” decided to enter the cockpit and “Trick out that air pony with some gnarly stunts”. After trying to pull a backside 1080 to fakie at 25,000 feet, the plane almost immediately crashed into Edison, New Jersey. He admitted to the airtower during the tailspin that “He was totally stoked to get behind the yoke of such a totally monster jet and that he was just totally trying to have a good time”. Shaun’s remains have been identified by dental records as his face was intact and undamaged. The rest of him however, is a gruesome site. WTFis acquired some pictures of Shaun “The Flying Tomato” White after this magnificent crash.

Before

*After - Warning…This is Gruesome

As you can see, “The Flying Tomato” has been “Totally Cuisinarted” in this crash. We send out condolences to the survivors of the White family for their loss. We also send out grated parmesan cheese and crushed red peppers to the Italians enjoying Shaun “The Divine Marinara” White in Edison, NJ.

How come every time I go to the bank, there is an old woman arguing some non-arbitrary issue?

How come that woman never gets the hint and never leaves?

Banks, fun for the whole family.

From what I’m gathering about this situation, I think that it’s a relatively common one, but I can’t be sure until I start getting
comments about this.

When I was a kid, I lived in the suburbs. Being in the suburbs means you only have certain little places to play at and the rest of the neighborhood is filled with people who’s sole existence is to yell at you. Anyways, there was this place behind my house that was a pond/swamp/field/forest/general shithole. Next to the pond was this backyard of a house that was between a bowling alley and a VFW lodge. Occasionally we would tread in there and it was fenced up, so it was reserved for when we were feeling saucy. One time me and my friend Tim ventured in there and we found an entire garbage bag full of Playboys and Penthouse. This was a serious collection and I really don’t have any idea how it got there, but let me repeat it; this was a serious collection. This was 4th grade. The age where you really have no idea what to do with porn. The fact was, I had no idea what to do with it,but I loved looking at it. Tim and I would go to this place daily. Keep in mind that it was full of trees and thickets so we could really get into these mags. This went on for about a week and let me tell you, word spread. Pretty soon it wasn’t just Tim and I knowing about these. One day I really got sick of sharing, so on my own, I went into the woods with a small foldable shovel (thanks Dad) and buried these about 30 feet from where we originally found them. From there I pretty much forgot about them.

I distinctly remember going back into the woods in 6th grade on a mission. To find the porn and beat off in the woods to it. Well, it seems like a good plan in theory, but the truth is, imagine porn that has been buried in the woods for 2 years. I dig it up and it has worms, potato bugs and centipedes in it. What else is a 11 year old white trash kid from the suburbs like me gonna do? That’s right, I beat off. It was good. Is that weird?

Or is it even weirder that after I was done I took the worms and went fishing with them?

The hunt for Terrorism is an ongoing battle between good and evil. We can protect against the things we can see; but what about the things that we can’t see? Like Crayfish with Bombs on their back? Recent tests of fresh water lakes and streams have visually demonstrated that Crayfish with Bombs are already in our waters, waiting to strike at any time. Below is a picture of a specimen that we caught in a reservoir just outside of New York City.

We all know that since you don’t have streams and lakes in your home, you don’t have to worry about them getting in there; but what about your computer? Absolutely nothing is there to stop a Crayfish with a Bomb from hacking your computer and attacking you from the internet. Only if you act now will we be able to protect your homeland security by helping yourself become a secure homeland with

CrawdadKiller 2K*

For the super mega ultra low price of $199.95** you can protect yourself from Crayfish with Bombs from hacking your computer and attacking you from the internet with CrawdadKiller 2K*. Along with the easy install kit you will also receive certification that the CrawdadKiller 2k* is Y2k compliant and compatible with Appletosh.

*Will not kill Crabs.
**Actually for effect we moved a decimal point. The real price is $1999.50.

Comment now. Operators are standing by.

I was playing around and I came across this place in Wikipedia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celebes_Sea

Not only is it funny that the place is called ‘Celibacy’, it also reads:

“In addition to high abundance of fish caught in the Celebes sea, this sea also yields other aquatic products like sea tang.”

Sea Tang. The sweet sweet irony.

The Dance Channel on the Radio is a great way to pass the time at work. However, one downside of this is realized when you start singing “I’m every Woman”. I definitely need to refine my strategy here.

My roommate told me to write something sweet. Or something about sweet. He’s sweet and i’m sweet and what he said was sweet so it’s hard to write about such sweetness without seeming sour. Sweet isn’t something that is sweet when you have roommates but by yourself you would never say that anything is sweet. Personally I think my roommate is a homo. Since I have two of them I will keep them guessing as to which.

I shot my friend?

It’s called karma, bitch!

I think I just had an awesome idea. Start a call girl service under the listing of a tutor service. Parents have a male student who is failing. The service is called, the girl is ordered, she bullshits the parents, takes the money, has sex with the student and dissappears. No one has to know.

Prostitutors.
“Helping you learn things you couldn’t before.”

54 degrees and Sunny. Light wind from the Northwest. Hot man sex.

And thats your weather report from Chelsea in Manhattan.

I can prove that God doesn’t exist in 3 simple statements.

Bon Jovi is rich.
Jon-Benet Ramsay is dead.
There are now 5 blades on one razor.