this comic is pure greatness… along with the rest of the comics I read
xkcd
penny-arcade
ctrlaltdel-online
spacecowboysoftware’s four panels of fun
PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE FULL REALIZATION OF OUR HORRIFIC VISION!!
– jellybeans
the subject is: Find your seksual partner dont
and the body: Svingers and singIes looking for seeks.
… how’d they know I was looking for seeks? 
http://www.acm.uiuc.edu/conference/2007/video/UIUC-ACM-RP07-Munroe.wmv … video from the MAN … hilarious! .. up from UIUC.. where I lived for awhile
waiting for Andy to go to the lake.. came across this song on his myspace.. it is probably the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.
Screwing You On The Beach At Night Lyrics
- Bloodhound Gang
*Growl*
Nothing heats up my jacuzzi like when
this used thong I found and bedazzled with gems
brushes ever so gently against some boobs.
I guess it’s hard to believe that one man
could have a ponytail this sensitive and
distract an aggressive hawk that’s cornered you.
I know my haiku’s are freaking intense
but even the words I made up to sound French
don’t express my feelings for your toilet parts.
I would show up for our pottery class
dressed like a pirate with John Water’s mustache
On a unicorn that shits your name in stars.
Fuckings cool, but Jimmy’s the romantic type.
Loitering on cliffs, thinking about stuff like,
Screwing you on the beach at night.(x2)
One milkshake, two straws.
Fuckings cool, but Jimmy’s the romantic type.
Loitering on cliffs, thinking about stuff like,
Screwing you on the beach at night.(x2)
Don’t I (Don’t I)
Sound so (Sound so)
Sexy (Sexy)
Echo (Echo.)(x2)
Release the doves!
Al found this for me… oh so true
Back when I was a kid I could never figure out why my stomach hurt, not realizing that it was the jalapeno cheese nachos I had the day before. My attention span just wasn’t developed enough to put those two things together. The peppers didn’t even figure into my thinking–I mean, geez, it was yesterday, that’s like forever ago, and as far as I knew the stomach ache was a brand new, completely separate development, a mysterious phenomenon that sprang spontaneously into being. It had the character of divine intervention, the pain taking on epic proportions, without beginning or end, and accordingly I’d get all moral about it. I thought I was being punished by some higher power for being bad. I’d be on the toilet doubled over in agony, apologizing to God for some unidentified transgression. I’d be there blubbering to myself, “Sorry, I won’t do it again. Whatever it was I’m so sorry…” Now, decades later, having blossomed into a mature and magnificent powerhouse of rationality, when I get stomach aches, I’m like Sherlock Holmes, man. I break the shit down. What did I eat? Was it those falafels? Was the meat bad? Am I allergic to meat? Did the waiter spit in my food? Was he a terrorist unleashing a biological attack on my person? I’m like those forensic fuckers on CSI. Very methodical. Very analytical. Shit, now when I have religious experiences I immediately retrace my steps, try to track down what series of events led me to this euphoric spiritual illumination. I investigate, gather information, and hypothesize, in a cool and detached manner. It was probably those blueberry waffles. They were heavenly.
