…but if he really said this, I think we’ve forgotten that “everyone” means “everyone” and not “half of everyone.”
…but if he really said this, I think we’ve forgotten that “everyone” means “everyone” and not “half of everyone.”
The Sun: Great Grannie Joan Lloyd has found love with a toyboy 38 years her junior, after fulfilling her dead husband’s last wish that she get a boob job. The 66-year-old has moved Phil Absolom, 28, into the home she used to share with late hubby David. After he died in 2010, the former model spent £4,250 of her life-savings on breast implants, taking her from an A to an F cup.
Unemployed Phil came across her photos on Facebook and got in touch with Joan. Following weeks of messages and phone calls, Joan finally agreed to meet the former photographer and the chemistry was instant.
Former model, former photographer (lol). One’s minus a husband, the other’s minus a career. Truly, a match made in chemistry heaven. God bless you, Dow Chemical!
Examiner: “Last week, the Obama Administration took its first major step in a long-range plan to ban firearms in the United States. The Obama Administration intends to force gun control and a complete ban on all weapons for US citizens through the signing of international treaties with foreign nations.”
By signing international treaties on gun control, the Obama administration can use the U.S. State Department to bypass the normal legislative process in Congress. Once the U.S. government signs these international treaties, all US citizens will be subject to those gun laws created by foreign governments, according to political consultant and attorney Michael S. Baker.
“The laws are designed and intended to lead to the complete ban and confiscation of all firearms,” according to Joan Sharon.
I don’t even know how to load a gun and even I know that giving foreign nations a list of US gun owners is a bad idea. Everybody who grew up during the
pre cell phone era cold war knows that this is the first step to the annihilation of the United States. Actually it’s probably the fourth or fifth step. It goes like this:
Classic authoritarian maneuver, and presto, you’ve got yourself a firm grip on the neck of the
In late April, Pilaro was banned from participating in the fall 2012 season because school officials determined he was too dominant a player. His mother, Fairley Pilaro argued ”He is not a physical dominating presence on the field by any stretch. In fact, he’s far below the girl’s varsity height and weight.” The youngster is 4-foot-8 and weighs 82 pounds. He’s the team’s leading scorer.
I think maybe the argument might be this: If a student wants to play a sport that is only offered for the opposite gender, that student should get to play it. Well let me go on record and say that this argument is bullsh1t. If a girl wants to play a boys’ sports, and she can make the team, then she should get to play. The same doesn’t apply in the opposite direction. Why? Because [SPOILER ALERT FOR SOME OUT THERE] boys and girls are different*. This doesn’t apply to the early years, and sure there may be some gray area, maybe somewhere around 5th grade, but by middle school, it’s over. Is this equal treatment? Nope! Is this fair treatment? Yes.
**nsp, but thank someone or something
KCTV5: A North Carolina father taught his teen a lesson in tough love when he unloaded his pistol into the girl’s laptop after she posted a lengthy critique of her parents on Facebook. To top it off, he videotaped the shooting and put the video on her Facebook page. In the expletive-filled post, the daughter rails against her parents for making her do chores, accusing them of treating her like a “slave” and demanding she be paid for all the work she does around the house.
“I don’t know how to say how disappointed I am in you, and how disrespectful you were to every single adult in your life,” Jordan said. “I’m gonna put a stop to it, I’m gonna put a stop to it right now.” Just after the 7-minute mark the camera shifts to show the girl’s laptop on the ground, and the father fires nine shots into the computer with his pistol. “Your responsibilities include waking up on time and getting on the bus,” he said.
It’s too bad more of the Occupy Protesters didn’t have parents that loved them like Mr. Jordan loves his daughter. It might have gone a little differently if I was in his shoes, though, because I would probably have plaxicoed myself if I went the shoot-em-up route.
It’s no wonder no one wants to take credit for this gem. I don’t want to be a spoilsport but, in the end, aren’t you dead? I’d rather everything be okay in the middle. And maybe for most of the start and “near” end for that matter.
Daily Mail: We usually identify hipster types by their vintage-inspired fashion sense and cooler-than-cool attitude. But it seems there’s more to it than jaunty headwear or a pair of (often fake) dark-framed glasses. A new study from Harvard University has revealed that setting yourself apart from your peers is the answer to eternal hipness.
Whether it comes to your taste in fashion, music, books or movies, what you do is hip – as long as no one else is doing it at the same time. The team found that when your friends start getting into something you really rate – say an indie band – the hipper you are, the more likely you are to stop liking it. Of course, this cat-and-mouse game of standing out from the crowd might leave you with some pretty esoteric tastes – and not a whole lot of friends. But when you’re that cool, do you really care?
This is a Harvard study. Harvard University. A gd Harvard PhD candidate surfed Facebook for four years, and this is what he came up with. You’re going to have to call him “Doctor” in about four months. Well you listen to Dr. Red. Hipsters are an annoying, mastabatory irony. They spend all their time and what money they have (often a sh1tload) trying to be “different.” There are two things wrong with this.
First, nothing is original, therefore all they’re really doing is running on the same treadmill as the rest of us, they’re just on a differnt cycle. Second, they judge themselves not by what they’re wearing or what they’re eating or what they’re listening to, but instead by how all of those things are different from the rest of humanity. That’s the opposite of original – instead of acting on their own, their reacting to someone else’s choice. They’re not free from the rigid bonds of society, they’re slaves to them!
Do they care that they’re finding a hip “new” sound or a cool “new” fashion sense? Nope. If they really cared about any of that sh1t, they wouldn’t dump it as “old news” (old news!) the second their neighbor discovers it, which, as Dr. Crimsoncock up there points out, is exactly what you do if you’re particularly hip. Instead all they care about is that they are the singular force standing against conformity. But the problem is, this means that they cannot exist without conformity. They eschew popular culture and thought, and yet they unknowingly base their whole being on those things! It’s a whole yin/yang thing.
Boston, MA – There must be a place, somewhere in the bowels of Massachusetts (ranked 50th out of a possible 50 on the “States you can have fun in” list), where a gentleman can go for a massage that ends with a fairly priced handjob, right? Well, there is. While we can’t tell you the name of the establishment, or its’ location, we can tell you that the mysterious Rub n’ Tugs do exist. And, as your friends, we can tell you how to make it happen.
Like you, I used to look at the glass of handjobs as half empty. I used to think that the day I went in for the ultimate massage would be the same day the State Police were running a sting operation. “But Martin, didn’t the State Police recently catch other State Police in their own sting operation?” Touche. Of course, the big difference between them getting caught and you getting caught is you’re the only one going to jail without paid leave. Anyway, my whole life philosophy has changed. Now I look at the world through “hands going up and down on my shaft” colored glasses.
Now, let’s get back to how you get your HJ. During the massage, say one of the following:
1. “That feels amazing. I wish there was something you could do that would justify a $50 tip.”
2. “You probably get this a lot, but, do guys ever ask you to put your professional license and career on the line by asking for a happy ending? That is so inappropriate and gross. But, how did you answer them?”
3. “This reminds me of something I saw on Pornhub. Only, the woman playing your role was Asian, and the guy playing my role was completely shaved and ended up getting a blajoejay for $25. That’s not a realistic price. Is it?”
I would be surprised if none of those worked for you. Sometimes you have to send one up the flagpole to see if it flies. The good news is, if you can’t get your happy ending, once they leave the room you can wrangle one out into their laundry hamper. Cover it with a few more towels so they can’t pinpoint who’s responsible. This same option applies at tanning salons.
No “thank you” necessary,
I can quit any time I want. But not today.
First, let me start by saying WickedImproper.com does not condone racism. We will not tolerate it. Of course, we’ve all heard jokes like “Did you hear that Tyler Perry is remaking a particular kids’ classic, and he’s calling it ‘The Nuppets’?” All we can do, as one of your many resources for daily news and tightly bound awesome boobers, is to post things as they become available and hope you click the shit out of our Facebook “Like” button.
No ads, no product placement, no pop-ups, no spam. We are, Wicked Improper. (.com)
(Coming soon: spam, ads, and product placements where you least expect them)
The Post Game: Most of the Tennessee Titans likely wanted to forget every second of their visit to Pittsburgh. The team got beat up by the Steelers on Sunday, 38-17, and surely hurried through the airport without a look back. But for one rookie, a defensive back named Tommie Campbell, there was a good reason to sneak a glance around. Campbell used to work at the Pittsburgh airport. As a janitor. Campbell played two seasons for Pitt [but] poor grades ended his time as a Panther. After losing his scholarship at Pitt, Campbell squandered a second chance by lasting just one season at Edinboro, a Division II school. Once again, poor grades did him in. He had few options left. He started hanging out at the bars, smoking cigarettes.
Campbell got a shot at another Division II school in Pennsylvania. Defensive coordinator Mike Conway was skeptical to say the least. The skill was there — he was first-team all-state in high school as a wide receiver and safety. “I just worked with every opportunity God had given me and just pushed forward,” Campbell says. Conway gave Campbell a chance to play. The Titans took Campbell in the seventh round (251st overall) of the 2011 NFL Draft and gave him a chance to play his way onto an NFL roster.
If I’m reading this right (and I am), the lesson for all you kids out there is, if you’ve got all-state talent at two positions, you’re going to find a college out there that could not give two sh1ts about whether you can spell your name. “You can’t play for us, son. You’ve already been run out of two programs which, excuse me, really aren’t that strict about grades to begin with, and - oh my good christ, is this 40 time correct?! Welcome! May god bless you and deliver you to the NFL one way or the other!” (And next time cover the spread fcs.)
ps – “I just worked with every opportunity God had given me and just pushed forward…” I’m not sure he has a firm grasp on the meaning of the word “every.”
The Telegraph: Happiness is U-shaped … which explains why the middle-aged are grumpy. Happiness follows a U-shaped curve during a person’s lifetime, according to research showing that middle-aged people are the unhappiest.
Everyone knows that scientific studies are hilarious excuses for PhDs to rationalize their desires to get stoned and hit on co-eds. And this one is a doozy. Face it, this guy took a smiley face and made up an ironic study about unhappiness with it, and you can bet he’s the envy of his bookworm friends. “You’re going to ‘prove’ that middle aged people aren’t as happy as 25 year olds? And they’re going to pay you for it?!”
Regarding the conclusion, no sh1t, your middle ages suck. But U-shaped happiness curves don’t explain why middle agers are unhappy. Mortgages explain that. Dealing with management. Eating your d1ck on a huge work presentation. Getting fat. Waking up early. Figuring out that you’re going to die in your cubicle some day. Hearing “Huh…” from the doctor during a rectal exam. All of those things.
When you finally come to terms with the fact that college-aged girls do not find you attractive in the least, that you’ll never retire, and that you’re more than halfway to death, you start back on the upswing. You become resigned. But until then, pucker up, because it’s going to be a long ride. All downhill.
Pictured [above] running out of the sea on Bondi Beach in Sydney last week, actor Hugh Jackman displayed an enviably taut upper body after a daily 90-minute exercise regime of weights and aerobic activities. TRY THIS: The ‘triangle’ push-up is one of the most effective arm exercises for toning and strengthening. Repeat six to eight times, gradually increasing the number you do.
Folks, if you’re reading this,
there must be some mistake and you’re thinking “Wow, that sounds great – I’ve often wondered how to get such chiseled arms and pecs and shoulders like Hugh Jackman,” then let me start by saying “don’t be a d1ck.” Six gd pushups are not going to rid you of your grotesque physique. Instead, consider key words from the article above, and how those words relate to your life:
1. “A-list“: You’re not on that list.
2. “Bondi Beach“: You live nowhere near a beach, and if you do, it’s the Atlantic, and that f-ing water is freezing right now, and probably teeming with great white sharks.
3. “Daily 90-minute exercise regime“: First off, he probably works out 180 minutes a day, but doesn’t want to crush your spirit. Luckily, you have me give it to you straight (not a g@y pun) (no judgement). You don’t have 90 daily minutes to work out, and that doesn’t include the commute to Bondi Beach, which, for you, is very, very long.
4. “Hugh Jackman“: You’re not Hugh Jackman. This is kind of a big impediment.
Stay tuned for legitimate diet and exercise tips from Red and Martin, guaranteed to
make you feel bad about yourself give you some reasonable goals and doable recipes that will help you pull your fat ass off the couch.
(Editors note: People in image not related to this story)
I hope this letter finds you doing well. I heard that another member of the gym walked into the steam room to find you stroking your meat. That’s a weird place for that. I’m glad you were caught in time because it would be much worse if you were able to finish. I really don’t want to have to start wearing mocassins in the steam room. I know that sometimes the urge can be overwhelming, so it’s commonplace to slip into the mens room at Dunkin’ Donuts and have at it, or pretend to try on seven pairs of pants when you’re shopping at Kohl’s and blast one into the pocket of a pair of Dockers. That I get. But the steam room is a place I like to go to relax after a workout, and the last thing I need guiding me through the fog is your raging helmet. Also, something else to keep in mind is that there’s a drain that keeps the water cycling through the filtration system. Now, I’m not saying you were going to cum in there, but if you did, your jism would most likely make its’ way to that drain and into the filter system to be recycled into the steam room atmosphere where everyone would be covered with millions of tiny little particles of your load. Not cool.
And then Jesus said something like, “Sure, I could turn water into wine, but I really want to make sure every woman has awesome cleavage.” If there’s one thing you can take from church and listening to the same story ad nauseum, it’s that Jesus knew how to get his freak on. He would say things like “Rub my abs and a magic genie will come out of my pants” and “If you want to meet god, thee must bloweth the hosteth with the mosteth.” He didn’t have a lisp, he just liked to rhyme. Of course, one drawback of being somewhat of a celebrity while you’re nailed to a cross is that you can’t sign autographs. Dude was an “okay” carpenter, and at the time of his death he was under investigation for agreeing to build a hut and taking the deposit but never starting the project, as well as having three OSHA violations. Nobody’s perfect, not even Jesus, but this chick below is pretty close.
Ocean, Mother Earth – Look no further than our oceans as a wonderful place to dispose of trash and refuse of all kinds. Ranging from household garbage to hazardous waste, the best place to dump all of this shit has been under our nose the whole time. Why should we use landfills and junkyards when that acreage could be put to good use with something important, like golf courses and Staples? Years ago, when people still thought we actually landed on the moon, the idea was presented to “fill the craters on the moon with our garbage.” Taking the easy way out is usually the calling card of America, but in fact, there were many nations lining up for the “I don’t care where you dump it as long as it’s not our backyard” option. Like every entitled American, there’s a mild feeling of euphoria knowing that on a specified day of the week, a dumptruck filled with ex-convicts will swing by to pick up our garbage and hopefully not go through our mail. Where does that magic truck go with all of that shit? Answer: Who cares, but probably New Jersey. Spoiler alert: Predictable “all garbage ends up in New Jersey” joke coming soon to a sentence near you.
As we continue overpopulating the planet and destroying our farms, we should be focusing on sustainable locations to put our refuse, and what better place than the world’s largest garbage disposal, the ocean.
Daily Mail: He might have left the nightclub with two girls on his arm but while he was inside Prince Harry was surrounded by a bevy of babes. Following his dance session and subsequent dip in the pool the 26-year-old wasn’t short of admirers as he parties at a table in the Croatian nightclub. At one point the prince had the full attention of no less than four blonde girls and he didn’t seem to mind the company. One girl had her hand on his upper arm listening intently to what Harry was saying while the other girls were seen smiling broadly. And in return Harry was happy to offer hugs to the girl group and was seen giving one lady in a backless top a warm embrace. As he moved from the table area to the bar the blondes were quick to follow him and the group shared jokes as they awaited more drinks.
If you’re looking for proof that “Backup Quarterback” is the best gig in the land, look no further. Your team needs you, should – god forbid - anything happen to the starter, but really, let’s face it, nothing’s going to happen.* So what’s left to do but brush up with the great unwashed and let them embrace you and broadly smile themselves all over you. It’s sickening for the rest of us, but we’ve all got a job to do.
*One exception of course was the stutterer who married Ed Norton’s girlfriend from Fight Club, who’s brother decided to marry the hermaphrodite (crossdresser?) American with the gangly bony hands and giant adam’s apple named “Wallis.” Wallis? Come on.
Boston, MA – Summer is officially over now that we’ve had some leaves and sticks fall down in the yard. It’s getting colder in the morning, and it’s time to buy some leaf bags from Home Depot and get ready for Fall clean-ups. After maybe 8 nice Summer weekends out of a possible 16, it’s time to get back to what we New Englanders are best at: Misery
Remember last Winter? Mmmmm! Six foot high snowbanks, steering “into the skid”, listening to every fucking idiot say “I’d shovel, but where am I gonna put it?”, downed power lines, making love to a female snowman, and the constant threat from the State House that we would deplete the imaginary snow removal budget. In my entire half-thawed, half-frozen awful existence in this douche of a region, we have NEVER ran out of money for plowing. What are they going to do, not plow? In the event that day comes, fine with me, I’ll be in the fap den.
My favorite part of Winter is shoveling for one and a half hours, then coming in and having this conversation with my wife, who is wearing pajamas, sipping coffee, and probably still damp from watching “Under the Tuscan Sun”, starring Diane Lane’s two perfect cans.
Her: “Is it heavy or light snow? Is it the heavy stuff?”
Me: “You know, after seventeen hundred shovelfuckingfuls, light, heavy, what’s the fucking difference?”
Not this Winter. All hands on deck. I know the theme for our second anniversary is supposed to be “cotton”, but I’m going to give her “a shovel.”
A friend of mine recently lamented over the fact that during a recent family visit, he was forced to sleep outside in a tent because there weren’t enough beds inside. He came to the inaccurate conclusion that he can’t rough it. But the truth is that camping isn’t for nice people. Please to let me explain.
People who camp are fine and nice, right? Wrong. They’re judging you all the time. Brace yourselves – god* forbid you try to whip out your ipod (not capped) to chill with some Zac Brown. They’re not satisfied unless your miserable listening to some band you never heard of (because they’re horrible). Besides, forget electronics, they’d rather read Dante’s Inferno in their tent than play WordFeud on a lazy afternoon.
These guys take showers under a Hormel chili can with holes poked in it.
These people are up your a$$ if you use more than three squares of TP after a bm. Three? With three squares I can’t even form a protective barrier around my hand for ONE wipe, and you obviously need more than one, for feedback purposes alone. Hell I typically use 10-12 squares to lay down a courtesy protective landing zone in order to avoid leaving behind a Jackson Pollack knock-off for the cleaning crew.
Bottom line, these are not normal behaviors, so don’t feel bad if at first you think sleeping outside isn’t for you. It’s just that it’s not for anyone who isn’t probably running from the law.
1. Attorneys. You know the old bit: Q: What do you call a busload of lawyers at the bottom of the ocean? A: A good start. Right now, there is a guy whistling Dixie becuse Casey Anthony is strutting her
huge cans ass all over town and selling the book rights to how he got her out. Another dude is, right now as you read this, trying to collect on a $1.5 million life insurance policy that his client took out on his girlfriend moments before taking her down to Aruba where he threw her overboard to the sharks watched her drown. Armies – ARMIES – of these bastards also spend their time telling us that our kids are too fragile to play dodgeball, or that we’re too fat to decide on our own to stop eating 14 Big Macs for breakfast.
2. Paparazzi. On one hand, these guys would have no compunction (“compunction!”) with hiding out in Lindsay Lohan’s prison-issue toilet bowl for the chance to get a shot of her cooter fresh after a prison orgy with guards. On the other hand, we’d have a shot of Lindsay Lohan’s cooter fresh after a prison orgy with the guards. Along with a pretty nice shot of her underboob, I bet. j/k, that’s filthy. But they would take the shot, and they would sell the shot, without question. Yep, they tend to make their subjects more famous, but their subjects include the famous-for-being-famous Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, (Kim yes, Paris, no) and Andy Dick, so they all pretty much deserve what they get.
3. Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m not going to wave the flag all over the place, but when you’re a kid of two rich & famous people who made their fortunes from hardworking Americans, and you go and make another fortune from those same commoners, and THEN you turn around and say that the US is (paraphrase alert) “for sh1t,” well, you’re a rotten person. “But wait,” you say? “She left the country to raise her fruit overseas,” you say? Ok, fine, I can smell her pretentious snobbery all the way across the Atlantic, but she has the cash (that she got from this country), she’s not a prisoner, she can go where she wants. But what’s this? When she got
desperate for attention a call from Glee, she came back to feed on the masses again, complete with the old “Oh no, I was misquoted when I said that Americans are all fat ugly lazy greedy uneducated scum” excuse. What? The EU wasn’t big enough for her? F. O.
Honorable Mentions: All other famous people, morning DJ’s who laugh at their own jokes, morning DJ’s, myself
Stay tuned for “People I Love”