A Day in Pictures

So today I'm not writing a blog post. I'm painting a strange mosaic with unrelated and ridiculous pictures. Some are funny, some are just sick. Enjoy.

This walrus is ashamed. Clearly he's overweight.

My only friend.

This makes more sense than you know.

A good friend of mine

I never saw it coming. Came out of nowhere.

G.I. Joe!

I did.

Oh Silly Hans, you're so silly. 

This is what the Yankees do to people

Sick.

He's an erudite ape.

Drunken pony rider

Drunken bulldog who happens to wear Calvin Klein

Bizarre.

This is how to walk a dog. Not lazy at all.

This is definitely not lazy.

Normal.

Augh!

What a handsome face

A real man's man.

HA.

Reminds me of a buddy of mine.

George Clinton, your hair is awesome. And, your awesome is hair.

Delicious.

If you don't get this watch Dune. This is friggin' hilarious.

I hope my children make podcasts.

Aww. Corn dogs are so cute.

He's having so much fun.

Living the Emo life

I am trying to limit my posting to 3-4 times a week, but sometimes I just really need to do it out of schedule. And, it helps when I think I have a good topic. Some of you might like it anyway. I'd like to delve into women's fashion for a moment. Wait, it's not what you think. I'm talking about women's fashion for men. That's right. I'm sure you've seen them, strutting their stuff down the street in women's country club shoes (keds and other canvas loafers) and sporting women's pants. So as not to appear straight up transvestite, the term to describe the pants is "skinny pants." That sounds so much better. I mean isn't that what all real men are really concerned with? Their skinniness?

To be honest and frank, as is my custom, I must attest to the fact that I have not yet experienced the supposed feminine joy of wearing skinny pants. They just look way to comfortable. And for me, with my svelt girlish figure it would just make me another piece of eye candy for those who prescribe to the emaciated Ethiopian refugee Abercrombie and J Crew models' look. And, I'm sure the pants would make my butt look big.

But as for the black nail polish, eye shadow and whiney music; I'm all for it. I look sexy in dark hues and tears. And, so does anyone with a lot of emotional baggage, or feigned baggage. In fact, you can feign baggage so much easier when you look like a cross between scarecrow, Edwards Scissorhands and Marilyn Manson.

I prefer Charles. But that is neither here nor there. And then you can scream your heart out to Fall Out Boy and lurk behind graffiti plastered back alley walls waiting for your friends to come hang out so you can talk about how horrible your day was. It's a dream life really. Ah, to live the Emo dream.