in ottawa about two years ago, there was this pair of weird Puma bizarro half slipon-ed jogging shoes in white which is also a colour which i'd never want, and i didn't get them at first glance cause they were sooooooo random, but then i ended up having a honeymoon stage for about a month straight dreaming of how much i wanted them so i went back and bought them only to never wear them once, ever, to this day.

the other day on the subway there was a halfpint version of me wearing them that looked like my sour mother and i kinda want to vomit in these unworn shoes and then burn them.

i ate walnuts at noon and spent about ten hours vommiting. i'm feeling exceptionally on top of the world today.


idiot. you look like my menstruations.
rick ross, eat your heart out.

apparently the magic of shamwow is a trade off for all the years of your youth.

sometimes life is a rave and im wearing a candy necklace.

literally all day ah ah and night.


thanks tim.

i want to give the most genuine of all high fives to the kid who did this. that or sing Pony to him. ginuwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

no points for cuteness.

it's that time again, where i scour the most angering things at the latest time possible to compile a blog to keep me raged until next time.

welp, there goes my passionately heated love of chicken pot pies.


plush crocheted rock candy?

i don't understand the thrill of knitting food-lookalikes.

okay, so i digress, neither felt nor knit,



an aqua yarmulke, how efficient. is yarn kosher? from a lamb? scoff, you gonna eat a pig in that hat?

and you even bother wondering why i can't sleep at night?

why keep your drink cool and refreshing , when you can keep it fuzzy and stupid.

sure, let your children play with furry finger condoms, don't come crying to me when you can't afford the therapy bills and ponder on your own where you went wrong.

when laundry disappears in your dryer, it accumulates till it can pull off a full frontal assault on your furniture.

made to scale with proportions of inventor.

this is also not cute. adding googly eyes is not a quirky craft idea. its stupid. your tape sees you, AWESOME. which part of it's body are you tearing off and sticking to something else? your Brita has eyes? and you're pouring out a glass full of cummy nyum nom goodness? yeah, get back to me when the first thing you see in the morning when flipping on the light switch is it looking back at you. a turned on light switch, how delectably FUCKING WEIRD.


biggest waste of time ever. imagine the trial and error that went into this mess. don't you have a war to fight in needlemaster5000.

i may be plotting to shove this in which ever entrance to hell it snuck out of, or the smallest driest orifice of whomever had made it.

a fuzzy computer cover??

looks like you're diddling a fembot on the set of Austin Powers.

only burger in history of burgers that i don't like.

only cupcake in history i will not try to devour exclusively in one bite.

only ice cream cone in history i will devote solely to cramming up someones nasal cavity.


this is kinda like seeing a perfectly fine dog , dressed up in an outfit someone who can barely dress themselves chose.

i have a dream where everything is hazy, and i'm smothered on my deathbed by an arch nemesis by this.

why wait this long to scare someone away?

just when i thought i had defined scary, here comes a knitted viking child.
this is officially my suicide note.
i can't wrap my head around what a sexual predator one of my kittens suddenly is.

they're both male and he's mounting him wrong, even I know that.



in life, there are needs and wants,

and veneered sluts who own a windmachine.



granted i don't know anything about the sri lankan tamil population protests recently in toronto, but granted;

they gots the coolest muthafuck'n flag i ever did see.

next year, i'm gonna be a bumblebee in style, china style.


the cuter spectrum of my internet time can be found here.
30 Hula Hoops At Once
30 Hula Hoops At Once

i want to murder this child with my laughter.


i am not myself.

it's three months into the new year and only now i've started to reflect on the past year.

on the walk home i saw a three legged chihuahua in a lime green drug rug and realised sometimes, life isn't so bad.


there's a very angry knit based post approaching in the distance,

don't hold your breath.


knit cake?

go fuck yourself.
i drool over bakerella regularly,
she makes the cutest deserts handsdown.

a pancake cake? i've lurked online for a good picture of this for years.

bitch wins my heart.
am i the only one not visually cumming over Slumdog Millionaire?

maybe if i paid more attention and didn't wake up only to mock the ending bollywood dance scene.

song of the year my asshole.

p.s. i don't know why my blog is so saturated with movie rants, i don't even watch/like movies that much overall.

whats worse than one lindsay lohan?

two gothic lindsay lohans with frostbite shimmer coloured legs.


dear nicolas cage,

please go back in history and don't make movies.
so seth rogen, gods gift to stoner culture.

so , let's take a stroll through your career sir rogen. i did know you got your start in Freaks And Geeks, notable show, loved it from the start, granted, did get stoked when you started appearing in movies and i recognized you from this old fav of a show. went on to think your main costar Linda Cardellini was such an uber babe, and has done nothing but progressed in the field of babeliness throughout her career, grandmas boy? maxim? yowza.

blonde ! you minx !

you though, were neither notable, nor underappreciated playing a lackluster stoner accomplis. donnie darko and dawsons creek? REALLY. how bizarre how bizarre. hell, i can't even recall you in anchorman. knocked up, fine. superbad, hilarious. step brothers? revived my love for will ferrell once more, but really a weak cameo.

pineapple express. wow, youre really diverse and not trying to corner yourself into a sterotype at all. im guilty of having a few cheap laughs, but honestly, once it got past halfway of the movie after that drug dealer talks of the probability of his cat going to cat-hell, i lose interest and usually fall asleep without remorse. i got tricked into zack and miri make a porno, admittedly i liked it. it was a sneaky romantic comedy about nerd-idiot acheives babely idiot girl. cute. lets all fall into that cookiecutter.

fuck me raw in a storage room.

i was actually hoping for something more offensive from all the controversy that such a title had riled up.

the reason this blog was on the tip of my tongue was from a movie preview for Observe and Report that was played prior to the watchmen.


you'd actually want to combine that clusterfuck of generic stupid stoner based movies into one? why not really huh? i mean, i hate stoner culture more than anyone, so its quite the ironic incident having my birthday fall on the glorious birth-of-christ-equivalent to stoners on 420.

so, seth rogen, i hope you roast within the depths of cat hell , in which vivid incarnations within my mind includes a never ending suply of fresh steamy-in-cold weather cat turds not fully covered in odour masking clay pellets. enjoy.


i've been needing to get a new slut to ride.

epileptic? anaphylaxis.

fact, Demetri Martin has a new show on the Comedy Network. consensus? irrelevant.

fact, he has a peanut allergy. consensus? so do i.

fact, "I think it’s interesting that ‘cologne’ rhymes with ‘alone.’" consensus? good point.

fact, "The best way to make someone sound less powerful is to add "DJ" to the beginning of their name. Example; DJ Abraham Lincoln. consensus? welcome to my blog.

along with the warmer weather it brings the revival of the trees, the animals, the animals genitals, the recovery of my knee, and a brigade of useless djs.

i mean, cool. everyone is a dj right? as plagiarized from Mark Vidler, from Go Home Productions, he summarized the benefits of such technology as Acidpro as; "You don't need a distributor, because your distribution is the internet. You don't need a record label, because it's your bedroom, and you don't need a recording studio, because that's your computer. You do it all yourself."

you don't shit in your pillowcase, you don't administer lonesome handjobs at the kitchen table, you don't do handstands on the toilet, or maybe you do, and then bring your laptop to the bar afterwards to pwump the jams.

usually i would continue to rip a new fuckhole for this fine breed, but instead i question; how hard could it be.

most of anyone has known that i've spent far too much time on the internet in my life, so why not diddle around in some programs which are a little less techno-industrial-loserfied than fruity loops - which has ironically changed it's name to FL studios. i too can carry a laptop, double click a mouse, press a couple hotkeys, and drag and drop a couple of settings.

dj jenjen, dj gillenator, dj double mant twaaaanz, dj usa, one vicious part of a tag team with dj hatermolen.

i'm not flappin my gums as per a certain kanye west, i'm just sayin it's bullshit and gonna give it a try. cause fuck me sideways, if i wanna bounce my booty to some reggaetron sean paul yellin out temperature, i'm gonna do it faded into amerie with the faint beat of pip paine pulsating through both pairs of my lips.


i'm actually jealous of her legs. not her butterface.


cutest ziptie rings ever. period.

wickedest untraditional traditional item ever.