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*UPDATED* Mallpocalypse: You’re Out of Control, ‘Merica. *UPDATED*

17 Jan
I went to the mall last week, and was both baffled and horrified by what I saw. What is going on with clothing these days?
First, this.

Is that? Oh God. It's acid wash.

Does it come with it’s own scrunchie set and airbrush machine?
Then, this.


What? WHAT IS HAPPENING? I can’t tell if that’s the ass or the U.P.A. What ass would look good in this? Your ass would have a smooshed, ruched crack. Ruchecrack is generally inadvisable.
It’s like a deflated Cyndi Lauper.
Oh no.
Is that a jersey BUTTERFLY PONCHO?

Yes it is.

Now, now I’ve seen everything.


It’s like designers hired 13-year-olds with Bret Michaels in Boca Raton to design this shit. Worse yet–SOME PEOPLE HAVE BOUGHT THESE THINGS.

There’s a demand for it. There is a demand for jersey butterfly ponchos. My blood is boiling.

Then, I read THIS little gem about the new trend of holyshit on ABC News.

This is a world gone lazy.

PajamaJeans have already been torn apart for their ridiculousness, so I won’t waste my time.

They make fun of themselves, really. It's feature/benefit relationship.

But the President of Jumpin’ Jammerz is going a bit far naming this bullshit the “Pajama Culture,” talking about people going to Vegas clubs in these. People considering INTERVIEWING in JEGGINGS AND PAJAMAJEANS. He’s making a social network for people who live this “pajama lifestyle.”


I’m just so confused.

I thought this was the end. I thought we’d gone too far in our willingness and ability to swathe ourselves in ridiculous crap.

And then, just to test myself, I googled “ridiculous clothing,” and got these.

These were made for babies. And I assure you, I have chosen the more appropriate ones–most of them made ME blush.

You know what? Wear all the acid-wash corduroy footie pajamas to interviews you want.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen someone wear?

If we can’t laugh at ourselves, who can we laugh at?

Oh goodness. It seems as though the fashion debate has been around long enough that even early man was quoted as saying, “Ugga wear distressed mammoth hide. Ugga so last global disaster.” And you Leaguers are no exceptions.

So, I propose a contest, inspired by our own Funny Bitch, BloggerToBeNamedLater.

Who has the best picture of your worst fashion disaster?

You can send me your favorite disaster picture to ohnoagavin at gmail dot com by January 30th. I’ll pick the top 5, and you’ll all get to vote for the winner.
Winner wins a $50 Visa Gift Card to buy whatever you want (but so help me, if you buy PajamaJeans.) Or a cross-stitch sampler. Or a picture of my boobies, but Adrian says I have to be wearing a shirt at least.

I’ll start the bidding with me. I have many, many of me when I was a child and my mother decided it’d be cool for me to dress myself (hello Lion King shirt/Polka Dot Bikini/Snowboots combo), but here’s one of me in New York on a vacation where Adrian took me BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED. Look at those butch-ass arms and transitional haircut that leaned to the left.

Who knew old white tennis shoes and too-short jeans would look totally fine on 5th avenue? YES MA’AM!

Example: Shitshow

I am my own reason that I only wear black, white, and gray anymore. I clearly still can’t dress myself.
If we can’t laugh at ourselves, then we can’t laugh at anyone.
On second thought, that came out like a threat.
It’s okay to laugh at yourself. Much better.

Cosmo’s At It Again, People.

25 Oct

“30 Things To Do With A Naked Man.”

Okay ladies, now Cosmo is just fucking with you. You just bought a magazine with SEX TIPS mentioned no fewer than 17 times on the cover. Are you really unfamiliar with the jobs of a nude man?
“OHMYGOD what do I do now? His, his…wang…is just–OUT THERE. What the hell is that? Is that a storage pouch? What does he keep in there?”

Cosmo says:
  • Get Naked, Too: Fucking thanks, Cosmo.
  • Taunt Him: HAHA, look at that dick! Are you fucking kidding me with that thing?
  • Enlighten Him: According to theoretical physicist Michio Kaku, the universe may actually be held within a black hole. This denotes that at any given moment, one could pass through a black hole (if we were able to combat spaghettification, of course) you would end up perhaps not in another dimension, but in a parallel universe. Tittytitty.
  • Make Him Hot, Then Cold: You want me? You like how this feels? Yeah, you want more? SPLASH. Yeah, did that bucket of ice water on your crotch make you HOT?
  • Seduce Him: No, absolutely not. Let him stand awkwardly looking for somewhere to put his hands while waiting for you to act.

But Naked. Drawing from Hyperbole And A Half. (click to visit)

Fuck you, Cosmo. You’re terrible.



1. Enter a Paintball Tournament: Nothing says I want you like a point-blank shot to the dick.

2. Street Luge: The thrill of maybe ending up with road-rash in unimaginably painful places is titillating. Titties.

3. Yoga: No better time to evaluate sexual performance than sitting behind a man doing downward dog. Uph–just gagged.

4. Interpretive Dance: Show me your best interpretation of Lionel Richie, and I’ll show you a man worth doing.

5. Glamour Shots: Side shot, coy smile, hand on collar, dick in sequins.

Get It? A Sequined _ _ _ _. HAH!

6. Snow Shoeing: It’s exhilirating to traverse the frozen landscape first thing in the morning. Especially with the impending threat of dicksicling.

7. Riverdance: I’ll leave you to your thoughts on this one. You’re welcome.

8. Visit a State Fair: You know that ride where you climb into a cage and spin really really fast and the floor drops out and your cheeks warp and boobs invert with G-Force? Go on that one with a naked man.

9. Fencing: Trying a new sport together will really strengthen your bond. Additional points for a crotch-whip.

10. Bee Keeping: You can use the honey later in sexy-time.


11. Feral Cat Wrangling: Cats are attracted to dangling things. He’d be a natural. We hope.

12. Bungee Jumping: Moving back to the subject of Physics, one could only imagine that at the point of full extension, one’s wang would be slightly delayed in the rebound, therefore elongating for a small period of time.

13. Japanese Log-Riding Competitions: Double entendre for the win.

14. Fire Hula: If you really loved me, you’d prove the theory of the burning bush.

15. Hurdles: Step-step-slap-FUCK!-step-step-slap-FUCK!-step-step-slap-FUCK!

How are you finding me?

19 Oct

People are finding me through some extraordinarily fucked up search terms.

1. Velociraptor Costume:

BAM! Found it.

2. Velociraptor Face:

See Above.

3. Velociraptor Sitting:

4. Several Variation of Oh Noa and Mom’s Messages:

HOORAY! Someone found me through my name and even a regular post of mine! I feel so special.

This is the last search term that makes any sense whatsoever.

5. Cheddar Cheese Taco Vag:

Okay, the Raptor stuff I get. I’ve done only one post about Raptors, but it’s apparently pretty searchable.

But the fact that you found me through a search for Cheddar Cheese Taco Vag says more about your psyche and your daily disposition than I think you realize.

Were you looking for a Vagina filled with Cheddar Cheese?

Were you looking for a horrible recipe?

Are you a dairy fetishist? I mean, I’ve never even heard of that, but hey, people are turned on by worse than this.

6. Latex Predator Costume Fetish

I have this whole demographic of bizarre fetishists that I’ve apparently servicing rather well.

Did I say servicing? Fuck.

I suppose a latex and a dairy fetish combination would at least be easy to clean.

7. Elevation Bed, LLC.

Elevation Bed, LLC is the parent company of the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed. Someone found and read my blog searching for a bed meant solely for older folks, invalids, and those laid up for a considerable amount of time so as to prevent bed sores.

I hope I brightened your day.

8. Wearing a C-String on the Beach

I think we all know how well this would actually turn out.

9. Razzle Dazzle Noa

This sounds as though Mattel thought it appropriate to make a Barbie of a woman who was awkward in public so that when you pulled a string on her back when others were around she would say shit like:

  • “Do you wonder if Noah left the unicorn off the boat on purpose?”
  • “I bet your Grandma looks good in that bandage dress.”
  • “Ma’am, your Vagina. Address it.”

But in private would say things reflecting of a crippling social anxiety disorder:

  • “No one thinks I’m funny but me.”
  • “Your friends only want you there.”
  • “I shouldn’t have picked a fight with that Drag Queen.”

Then, the Barbie would throw confetti in your face. Give it a Whiskey and Coke and some limp-ass red hair.

That would be a Razzle Dazzle Noa Doll.

(I have said all of those things.)

And my favorite:

10. Cat your gonna get raped


Not only is this a fucked up statement in and of itself, but it’s not even grammatically correct. This sentence is stating something about a Cat’s ‘gonna get raped’ as though it was a thing a cat could possess.

This is not ok. Cats cannot possess Gonna Get Raped. No one should possess Gonna Get Raped.

I felt dirty even making this one, y’all.

Cat’s don’t even have opposable thumbs, so why would they even need a can of Gonna Get Raped?

Baffled. Fucking Baffled.

Glass Houses.

29 Sep

Stephen Colbert recently testified before Congress about the plight of the migrant farm worker, to much uproar from both sides.

Clearly a threat greater than Bears.

Some common complaints being:

  • Colbert isn’t taking this seriously.
  • He was ‘in character’ and therefore not acting under oath.
  • He’s not qualified to testify.

Alright, folks, let’s get down and dirty in all the ways arguing about Colbert make absolutely no sense towards the greater goal of change.

As so many other news publications have pointed out, Congress has a great history of pairing with inconsequential celebrities, including Elmo, from Sesame Street. Call me crazy, but that seems like a character to me. Yet, his testimony was met with coos of delight.

He's Legit. It's Bono in Congress that worries me.

No one argues or complains when the members of Congress meet with cable news or celebrities outside of their offices to gain credibility for re-election.

The very reason that shows like the Colbert Report and the Daily Show with Jon Stewart exist because many Young Americans have lost faith in both news media and the government. A long history of extreme partisanship and inactivity in the government has left a bad taste.

These shows and these characters strive to stir up activism—the same reason that Zoe Lofgren asked Colbert to testify. Why, oh why, would Congress have a problem with Americans being further involved in their government? Colbert alike was there to help bring publicity to a long ignored and rug-swept topic.

The members of Congress probably disliked being satirized right in front of them, but Colbert used his biting satire to bring to light the fact that in the times we face today, Congress needs to come together for real change and real progress—instead of arguing about which celebrity is well-qualified to testify.

Pictured: Qualified.

A Great Love and a Golden Girl.

25 Sep

There is little in life that can make me happier than good Stand-Up Comedy. A good comedian is often scientific without letting you in on the secret.They go beyond the basic lead-pause-punchline into a complex series of sentences designed to draw you one way to stun you the next.

The segue, the lead, story, the hook, the punchline, the pause, and the Bea Arthur.

Never Saw Her Coming.

Bea Arthur is the best part.

Bea Arthur is only ever seen executed in really excellent comedy, after said comedian has told a truly amazing joke, paused for your laughter, and then…BEA ARTHUR! He just blew your mind with one little sentence that changes his whole story, just like Bea Arthur always changed the game in Golden Girls. Blanche was always a whore, Rose was always stupid, Sofia was always crotchety, but Bea Arthur (Dorothy)–you never knew what to expect.

Thank You For Being A Friend.

Maybe you find out the comedian was making out with his cousin all along, or that the goat he woke up next to is now his father’s widow. Who knows! It’s like the Pre-The-Village M. Night Shymalan of jokes–you don’t know what it’s going to be when it comes, but it’s mind-blowing every time. The comedy-gasm.

I live for the Bea Arthur.

But Bea lives to dance.

Now that I feel you have an accurate depiction of my love for truly good comedy, I want to tell you a story.

Friday Night it was a friend’s birthday, and he chose to spend time at a well-known comedy club in Dallas. It’s an awkward place filled with long tables, forcing you to sit with people you don’t know. I think it’s obvious I’m pretty terrible at social interaction, and typically say some really inappropriate things, so I was worried from the get-go. Let me draw you a picture of our table set up.

Fig. 1

Note the large booze disparity.

It was only after the Emcee and the Warm-Up that we figured out we’d been seated with…THE JOKE EXPLAINER.

Bea knows where this is going.

Comedian: “Man, what’s with these hipster bitches?  Those are some dirty bitches. I went out with this girl the other day that looked like the Salvation Army tried to donate her to the homeless.”

Here is where everyone laughs a little.


SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Comedian: “So we go meet at Ikea for coffee and fucking Scattergories in one of Ikea’s Swedish Dioramas, because she just couldn’t fit enough of looking fucking stupid in her day, and Ikea is the master of packing big shit in little boxes.”

Everyone kind of giggles. Not the best joke.


Bea gonna choke a bitch.

Comedian: “So she scattegorizes some shit about Kafka, and all I’m thinking is, I’m gonna bang this girl who looks like an old lumberjack, just to tick off an extra square on HoBingo.”

Everyone in the audience realizes this is his hook–we’re about to find out the punchline, and we’re all excited.


Bea's so excited.

Comedian: “So I get this bitch home, and she’s all, I want to live-blog your apartment. And I say, you can do a plaster cast of my ass and sell it to the Museum of Modern Art as long as I’m going to get something more out of tonight than 99 cent meatballs. I thought she was just messing around, but there she was, typing away while I’m thrusting. She even held a poll about what she should shout at the end to drive up her blog traffic.”

Not a great punchline, but it’s there.


Bitch, Please.

Comedian: “Please, girl, my YouTube video of the donkey-punch got a lot more hits than her ass will.”


There’s the Bea! BAM!

Here I am.

And even though everyone is laughing, and everyone seems to follow…


Motherfucking Joke Explainers.

P.S.: Here’s another reason Bea Arthur is all things awesome, just in time for Raptor Awareness Month.

That's Bea Arthur taking down a Raptor.

September is Velociraptor Awareness Month. BE AWARE.

17 Sep

This is it. I’ve had it. I’m done with her shenanigans, I’m done sitting back and watching her casually take over the world.

Lady Gaga is a fucking velociraptor.

We can’t live with this kind of terror in our everyday lives. She’s out there, in her Buffalo-Bill People Clothes, doing her best to trick your asses into being eaten.

“The message of Gaga is one of loving yourself,” Says Gaga.

Of course it is, Gaga, because when the fans flock to your arena, you have them trapped and worked into a frenzy. DON’T LOVE YOURSELF. RUN.

I recently took my life into my own hands and did some field research at the GaGa Monster’s Ball, and for fuck’s sake, how did we not harpoon her before?

  1. People arrive to the Monster’s Ball in costume. A clear indoctrination tactic.
  2. Gaga says, “I don’t know if you heard, but I’ve got a pretty big dick,” at the start of her concert. This is a ploy to be funny about the rumors that she is a hermaphrodite after the up-skirt shot of her, depicting a bulge. That is not a penis. That is a tail.
  3. Gaga implores you to, “Put your paws up,” meaning your hands in a claw like fashion. Gaga thinks its funny that you believe you can defend yourself from her pre-historic jaws with this feeble gesture.
  4. All you gotta do is follow the glitter way!” Right into her lair. BEWARE.

People, she’s not even trying to hide her true nature anymore.

She’s wearing meat.

Gaga would like this dress to be made of people.

She exhibits the typical Velociraptor ‘stalking stance’ in almost all of her videos.

Lady Gaga will come out of that pool and kill you with a Poker Face on.

She exhibits all the signs of having poor camouflage techniques.

I'm on to you. I see past your "friendly open-hand gesture."

And she keeps getting more and more outrageous.

Gaga's next outfit.

The American Society for Velociraptor Attack Prevention states that, “Velociraptor attack is the 3rd leading cause of death for men age 27-29. However, everyone must think about the implications of velociraptors: young and old, men, women and transgendered persons.”


Coincidence? I think not.


Slow Down, Speed Kills! (Or, it’s hilariously awesome)

9 Sep

Read This.

YES. This is amazing.

Canada, in all it’s glory, decided that it was a much better idea to slow drivers down with the image of you, “blasting into a child,” (which was a great word choice, Yahoo!News) than it was for drivers to eff up a killer suspension.

Some basic issues associated with this:

Image Credit: Yahoo!News

  1. What happens to the poor people who drive those roads often and are then conditioned to the response of, “child in road with ball is fake?” Forget the old argument that media breeds violence–Canada’s roads are conditioning sociopaths.
  2. People who can’t process optical illusions will be scarred for life. Or, as Canada’s expert says, “they shouldn’t be driving in the first place.” Whoa, sir, that’s a bit extreme. That’s like saying, “those who are colorblind may not buy clothing.” A big ‘ol Fuck Off to slightly disabled people.
  3. Can you imagine the accidents this thing could cause, with people halting to a sudden stop , and immediately exiting their cars to check on the welfare of the child?
  4. Canada hopes people will laugh off the image before passing right over her. Canada, death isn’t funny. What’s wrong with you?
  5. PAVEMENT PATTY, CANADA? I realize that you’re trying to give her a female name, but PATTY? As in, ROADKILL PATTY? It’s a double entendre of awesome.

But, Canada needs to get more creative. Drivers are going to be conditioned to Patty. They’ll need something more, something–unexpected. Of course, seeing as how I can solve all of Canada’s problems, I have the following suggestions.

Now, here’s how Canada hopes people react to the suggested speed bumps, “Haha, silly Canada! I’ll be slowing down, eh?”

In reality, it’s going to go something like this:

Image Credit: Julian Beever


Image Credit: Julian Beever

“Who puts a pool on I-40? Jesus Christ TXDOT.”

Image Credit: Julian Beever


And, my personal favorite…

Image Credit: Kurt Wenner

“OH MY GOD HELL HAS OPENED UP ON 635! Swerve, Martha, swerve! We’re all gonna die!”

I think people would slow down, versus being plunged into the depths of hell. But hey, if you want to imitate killing children, Canada, that’s up to you.

RV To Hell

8 Jul

The summer of my 7th grade year, my Ma and Stepdad decided to fuck up a vacation by going round trip from South Dakota to New Mexico with all four of us and my Ma’s terrier.

To make it even better, we went in a 4 bedroom, one bath, 400 square foot hellhole dubbed The Widowmaker.

South Dakota is like God’s little joke on America, with it’s vast plains of WHERE THE HELL ARE WE. The Big SD does feature Rushmore, which, if you’ve never been, is a rock–that’s all. You go, you snap a picture of you and your dog as presidents on the mountain. However, since it was Monday, and we were leaving for New Mexico only on FRIDAY, we had some time to kill.

So, we made time for:

1) Crazy Horse–another rock, but unfinished. Well thank God I saw that before I died.

2) The Rootin’ Tootin’ Cowboy Salootin’ Dinner Show–Oh, how I wish I were just dicking around about this one. We chose the RTCSDS based on their claims of being the set of the movie Dances with Wolves, Grace’s favorite movie. Upon arrival found a sticky note taped to the floor with the words “Kevn Costnar stood here,” on the way to the food line, where they handed you a metal plate and metal cup and filled your plate first with SEARING HOT BEANS, invited you to sing on stage and crush your soul.

That was all we did. 5 days, folks, 5 days.

So then, to really round out the fuckery, we moseyed on down to The Land of Enchantment–New Mexico (henceforth The Land of Broken Dreams).

Northern New Mexico=Mountains and Ski Areas=pretty.
Southern New Mexico=Desolation=Our chosen destination!

I got chased through a thornbush thicket by a band of rogue deer while wearing a wetsuit carrying flippers and a Sonic Size Dr. Pepper in Roswell.

Mark of a terrible vacation? When the IHOP Brain Teasers are your highlight.

British Petroleum Shops at Acme

28 May

Every time I turn on the news and hear anything about how much BP is raping the ocean, I feel as though Wile E. Coyote should be walking out of frame, smashed like an accordion, holding a white flag.

Do they buy cleanup plans at Acme?

I mean, jeez, I’m no engineer, but are we really throwing tires and mud at a gigantic pipeline? It almost sounds like they put someone’s redneck uncle in charge of pluggin’ up the cluster.

The Associated Press reported the other day that BP, “didn’t plan for major oil spill.” Is it really a thought in anyone’s brains at this point that they have any idea what they’re doing?

I’ll be honest with you, when I heard that they were wanting to place a giant shipping container over the end of that pipeline, I was waiting with bated breath for several months down the road when (if it had worked) that bitch rocketed off into the atmosphere, buzzing a cruise ship as it entered orbit. “Grab your Hefty, Hank, BP effed everything up again.”

I suppose what I love more is that it never seemed to enter anyone’s mind at BP that hey, something really bad could happen with oil in the ocean one day, and they should, mayyyyybeeee, have a contingency for it. I had a job once that had contingency plans for losing sticky notes (ironically, at an oil company), but BP has no idea what they’ll do now, short of sending FEMA down to potato cannon squirrels with wetsuits and ShamWows into the pipeline in a constant stream.

“See, squirrels are pretty small, and can hold five or six ShamWows. If we shoot 6,000 of ’em at the leak at the force of 500 Nascar engines, then they should be able to soak of most of the world’s fuel in a couple hours. Them ShamWows can really soak a bitch up. I mean, they’re German, and you know the Germans always make good stuff.”

Indeed, Backwoods BP Emergency Management, indeed.