There’s Some Scary Stuff on the Internet

Sorry, everyone. Just… sorry. I got up really early today to get a lot of work done, and while I was working at my computer, I felt our little dog lay down at my feet and brush her silky long ears against my toes. All was right with the world. And then I remembered that the dog was actually downstairs in the guest room with the kids, since they all had a big sleepover and watched movies all night. By the time I realized that the five minutes or so of soft toe-tickling was being done by a giant wood roach running back and forth across my bare feet, I pretty much lost it. I sprayed my entire office with Raid.

But then had to keep working. I’m pretty sure I’ve either now been repeatedly licking envelopes, or I’ve lost my taste buds. And I keep seeing midgets dance in the corner.

All of that is to explain why I felt the need to share these pants with you. Seriously, this is probably one of those images you really never should have stumbled across, and coupled with the horribly inappropriate footwear, it’s best to just click off this now. But here it is, in all of its droopy britches glory. I think the purpose of these pants is to shield the world from the fact that you’re wearing Depends, and that you’ve been wearing them for about twelve hours too long. It’s possible you’re supposed to carry things in there, like a kangaroo pouch, but wouldn’t you think they’d have a woman model them? Since the boy kangaroos don’t have pouches?


UPDATE: I just had to Google “do boy kangaroos have pouches?” and I’m sad to say that not only are there some very mixed views on the subject, but there were also some very disturbing images of men in kangaroo outfits carrying other men in their pouches. Run. Run away. NOW, before I inhale some more household chemicals and decide to share those pictures.

Today’s Agenda: Blackmail

I was flipping through a catalog of cutesy home items, mostly out of boredom but never because I ever intend to own a cookie jar in the shape of a pig that oinks when you open the lid. I did, however, find one item in the pages that I absolutely cannot live without, and for that matter, I can’t believe I’ve lived this long without it.

A blackmail organizer.

I had no idea that I could actually purchase a wall-mounted wooden shelf complete with individual dividers that would help me keep my extortion in nice neat piles, organized not only by first letter of recipient’s last name, but also by month that it is due. I hate it when Christmas rolls around and I get behind on mailing out my letters demanding payment to keep quiet about how drunk someone got at the office party or who was caught doing the nasty at the church bake sale.

Because I’m not an idiot, I quickly realized that there was a space missing between black and mail. Further proof of the error was the purplemail organizer just below it. Even more sadly, if we’re going to allow an error like that to slip through, why couldn’t we also have a spelling error so that I can actually have a blackmale organizer? I would totally pay money to have Dwayne Johnson come to my house and put everything I owned in nice neat piles. I have a sick feeling that The Rock will not be showing up to do my bidding, shirtless or otherwise.

Tell me you wouldn't have this man over for some light housework.

Do us all a favor and proofread, you bunch of douche canoes.