Who needs a gun when you can get the job done with a MUTHAFUCKING FOLDING CHAIR.
BAAYUM – dickface.
This is the greatest checkout of all time.
This is a fun game to break down barrier lines and really question the important aspects of humanity: what seat in the car do you want to take?
I choose the seat next to the fine gentleman in the back sporting a pacifier. He seems totally legit, because why are we taught to stop sucking on a pacifier anyway? I like that he’s challenging the stereotype.
In other news,
HOLY FUCK THAT IS ALL.
Ignorance is the devil’s work, I tell ya.
You really couldn’t have run this by someone?
The tagline is doing you no favors, because:
I just hope the Sweet Tooth Pedo is located next to The Joint chiropractic place in the background there.
This shopping center is turning out to be wildly intriguing. What’s next? Finger Bang, the gynecologist center.
Someone other than this guy.
I assume this is a student driver. Either that or a high chair wasn’t available.
Regardless, this is GEH-TOE. Although it does leave a ton of leg space in the back seat behind the driver. I just don’t want to be responsible for when said driver is physically launched out of the car because IT’S A FUCKING BABY CHAIR.
Kudos for keeping the car super clean, though. You’re just full of surprises!
Group projects are atrocious.
Back in elementary school, group projects were fun and usually involved coloring or planting seeds. Then middle school showed up and you started realizing your fellow classmates aren’t holding up their end of the bargain, but it’s fine because it’s middle school and none of it really matters.
HIGH SCHOOL. Fucking high school. The true colors of group projects showed and it was all the fucking ugly colors, like brown and black smudged yellow. These were the four years when you figured out that people are total shits and you’d rather do the damn thing yourself than allow their piece of crap work to get handed in and suffer the horrible grade.
Nope. You’d rather let them get an A while they lounge back in their desk with their book open to the absolute wrong page because you refuse to let them touch anything. You rationalized it as gaining karma, so it’s okay.
Once you realized who’s a piece of shit and who got their shit done (regardless, there’s so much shit), you started eyeballing who you’d want in your next group project. Only three people? PERFECT. Screw the fourth slot, you knew your group was the shit and would rock the socks off your teacher. It’s like the new Natural Selection: weed out the lazy assholes and recruit all the geeks.
Then in college, group projects became second nature. Lesson learned. As long as you had one or two other confident, kickass group members, you were golden. Plus, the driven students gravitated toward each other like a dollar to a G-string. Do better than a B on all assignments, and they would come.
Luckily, the real world is so much better than school group projects because everyone is afraid they’ll lose their job. In school, you might fail a class, but with your job, you’d fail at life. It’s the best incentive to always do well.
I don’t know whether I should leave her on the side of the road or if I should make some popcorn and sit on her to watch Game of Thrones.
Floral turtleneck maternity dress with matching (or are they part of the sleeves???) gloves.
Add in dead-eyed, pervy zombie Kanye as her accessory and this becomes the worst red carpet look of all time. I’m pretty sure Bjork’s famous swan dress lives in Kim’s dress and is off squawking for it’s mother right now.
UGH. They really make me hate the letter “K”. Which sucks, because it’s usually my favorite letter of the alphabet.
Damn you, E!
Don’t you hate it when you forget your password? When you create it, you think, “This will be really easy to remember. I’ll have no problem with this one. Nope. Don’t need to write it down, because I’ll definitely remember it.”
Then a few months or days or hours or minutes or seconds later you’re back on the site and you’re like, “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.”
Brick Tamland offers his expert advice.
This is a proven fact of science.
That’s a lifetime guarantee until you’re at least 37 years old. Which means it’s probably hack-safe.
It’s so obvious that it’s not obvious. Continue to let this blow your mind.
Everyone needs to put their babies down, rip themselves away from Facebook, and go see Iron Man 3. Like, right now. Work means nothing, the real world is one in which Iron Man is exists and Tony Stark is RDJ. Universal truth, ya know?
Just…do it. Do it with the joy of a thousand fat kids watching a chocolate fountain while eating a double scoop cone of Rocky Road ice cream. (Can you imagine the chubby, smiling face? With eyes the size of an ant.)
I don’t know why you’re still here, but since you’re around, let me fill you in on something about me.
This is what I’d be like in a yoga class.
Now get the fuck outta here and go watch someone better than you be a badass.