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I think I'm going to die laughing.

Avoid The Pad Vortex: Bathroom.

I can't make up my mind what the expression on that lady's face means: is it embarrassment that the photographer caught her naked? Or caught her in this hideous f***ing bathroom?

"Just A Little Remembrance, Pastor..."

"...For that magical evening neither of us will ever soon forget."

Marrying off the love of his life to...to that BEARD! was the most difficult thing Pastor Wilson would ever have to do in his many years of tending the flock. That magical night, indeed...the night they proclaimed their undying love for each other after the Pet Shop Boys concert in the park.

"What have...I done...to deserve this?" he sobbed into his cassock later that evening.

Three.

They approached the trio with trepidation. They'd been warned by many of their bewitching siren songs, that coven of harpies with their wide-brimmed hats and exposed shins, shod in t-straps; clad in crêpe. Which would speak first? Medusa of the wire-rimmed glasses? Macbeth's mater of the marcel? They shook in awe and terror, mere shadows of their souls.

Apple Of Her Eye.

Clarissa held the apple, a half in each hand. One...perfectly harmless. Delicious. The other, the one she would feed Mother - would be the last thing Mother ever put in her mouth, alive. That would teach her for giving Clarissa only butter knives to cut vegetables, the bitch.

Coyly Smiling.

"Why don't you come over here and twenty-three skiddoo me right there on the bearskin rug? WINK."

Footballer.

Things at the game were spiffing, until Ralph had a few too many Mad Dogs and mistook his daughter for the ol' pigskin, and punted her right over the 50-yard line.

Briefed.

"Do you ever think about getting old, Gary?"
"Sometimes."
"I don't ever want to get to a point in my life where...you know..."
"I do know, Ann...I can't bring myself to wear pants, either."

Respite.

"At last...a quiet place where we can have our NAMBLA meetings in peace, Timmy."

Politically Correct.

The Polaroid Sun commercial is not the true star of this gem. Wait for the first NBC promo.

Disco Baybeeeee

Thanks to Suzanne!

Costume Ideas

Charcoal and greasepaint: minstrel show star!
Blonde wig and red arm band: Hitler Youth costume!

Terror Of The Night

"...And on Halloween night, if you don't eat all of your candy, the Autumn Witch will come out of her hiding place and terrify you with her faceless cronies. The Autumn Witch is faceless, a terrible woman, with a merkin for a head."

Hellfire and Stolichnaya!

I Ate It.

The Joys of Locksmithing.

He thoroughly enjoys being is own boss, alright. Way better than his time in the trenches fightin' them there gerrys who had cut off his fingers for looting Teutonic castles.

Gallery Of Men In Sweater Vests.

You know what they say about men in sweatervests...

Greywaterloo.

Mrs. Fetters thought she had at last outwitted her laundry, but she'd later find out it had exacted its revenge with static cling problems and a greywater incident.

Fences.

"You know, Don, last night I had the weirdest dream about being able to move my own body on my own terms...in my Maidenform bra. Can you shift my right leg over, please?"

Oh, You Really Shouldn't Have: Gallery of Shitty Handmade Accessories.

Inside.

The only refuge they had; their only shelter, was the comforting surroundings of yarn bricks and a window into their like-minded souls.

Beckoning.

"Why don't you come on over here, fellas, and smell the strategic dabs of My Sin that I put on just for you?"

Avalanche.

Because this still cracks me the hell up.

Sometimes A Parrot Talks.

Who knew an angry old WWI vet and a parrot could be such inseparable chums? Someone did, that's for sure. After their jaunts in the park they'd go home, share some bird seed, chortle, and teach each other swear words.

The Racer.

Drag it out, baby!
(Wait, that is another kind of party entirely....)

Caution, Children.

Lest little Junior have the stark realization that he is, in fact, planing off his own epidermis.

Sass With Ass.

"You must be this wide to ride my train, fellas."

Yarrrrn.

He's so damn sophisticated he's decided to ingest the damn thing.

I'll Show You A Chicken Catch A Tory.

We are saddened by the passing of one of the greatest comedians of the 20th century, Soupy Sales. We are smashing our faces with pies in mourning.

Watch Out, Pixar...?

"Someone got paid to make this video."

"Someone thought this was a good idea."

"Someone thought a polar bear with a jetpack hitting a satellite with a hockey stick was a cool visual."