The Jigglybits

It's Ash Wednesday,

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 00:21:00 +0000

or as I like to call it, "Wednesday."

Updates will follow.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 13

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 08:24:00 +0000

Posting again. Like a boss.

Making you laugh. Like an assistant night manager.

It’s that time of year again.

Time for another Good Idea, Bad Idea.

Good Idea: Checking out the new comic Aram made, MandatoryRollercoaster

Bad Idea: Checking out the new rollercoaster Aram made, Mandatory Ride to the Emergency Room Afterward

Blatant promotion!

Good Idea: College

Bad Idea: English degree

But it did get me hella laid off.

Good Idea: Thinking, “Hey, it might work with this girl”

Bad Idea: Using that thought as justification for not posting any relationship jokes while we were still together (so expect some of this to be contradictory)

Blatant plot exposition!

Good Idea: Swiping a funny bit from a TV show

Bad Idea: Swiping a funny bit from a TV show that always used a sight gag as a punch line

I feel sorry for atheists who were born on Christmas. Atheism is generally a result of spending time with people who believe in a god. And when you’re a kid, having the greater western world conspire to take away your birthday in favor of a coping mechanism must suck ass.

Christmas is a lonely time of the year to get spam from an old friend about how you’d really enjoy Desktop Dating.

I actually do enjoy desktop dating. But only if tabletop dinner and sofatop movie go well.

I’m a gentleman.

I listen to James Brown during Christmas because nothing says “love and togetherness” like hot pants.

My generation learned about lust every year around Christmas time from the Super Nintendo. It was kinda like the iPad2, but with less feminine camaraderie.

I need a gift idea for this girl, something that says, “You bring new light and understanding to my world, and I cherish the moments we share.”

Do bitches actually like the heels in all that Facebook spam? As a dude, I think they look uncomfortable and ugly as fuck.

It’s funny because we broke up.

Free gift idea: http://niswander.com/ihang/

I know. Hang. Not hung. But if you click on the link, you get to play one-player hangman.

Dandle (v) – Tom Lennon playing one player hangman

Free anatomy lesson: The corpus is the vessel in the male what-have-you that makes

dudes pointy.

Corpus Christi (n):

Aw, come on. It’s Christmas. Let’s show a little enthusiasm.

Close.

Now we’re talking.

So, I dated a girl who likes U2.

I think my one goal in life is to not become a vagina. Remember Greg Beherendt? He used to be a shitty comic. Now he has frosted hair and a relationship book.

Just thoughts of cuddling make me have to pee.

Relationship advice: The sooner you apologize for making her mad in her dream, the sooner you can have make-up wet dreams.

To Do:

Clean bathroom floor
Donate to Locks of Love

I’ve grown a mustache. Now to make a porno with the girlfriend.

Seriously, it’s bad. Like I should be wearing a shirt that says “Free Paterno.”

I love it when you call me “Big Paterno.”

Too soon?

For our Spanish-speaking readers, me gusta cuando me llamas “Pepino Grande.”

Pepino Grande (n. Spanish): Big Cucumber

Coincidence?

Aram, they should put us on that Area 51 shit. We’d get results.

Spock-blocking since 2009

This month’s installment of Not a Porn Site: http://www.taylorguitars.com/woodandsteel/

I want someone who thinks of that as a romantic evening.

Don’t think too hard.

Or I’ll have to use the safe word.

She must be ok that I’m into

and BTW.

She must use the correct "your," and she must think this is funny:

Nobody says, “I like my men like I like my coffee,” perhaps because there aren’t as many witty punch lines.

Brown.

Caffeinated.

Frothy, with a hint of hazelnut.

Less Juan Valdez, more his donkey.

With cream and sugar.

Before I go to another baby shower, I need to learn how to make pink tissue paper not look like girlybits.

If anyone of this generation names their daughter Bella or their son (whatever the dude’s name is. Mervin?), said children reserve the right to slap a bitch.

I met someone named Azlan. I’m still waiting to meet a Mufasa.

Step 1:

Step 2:

Dear Facebook,

Please stop posting pictures of your Words with Friends game. Nobody cares about that shit.

Xo,

Bono

My friend: Omg, The Talk is so much better than The View. Lol.

Maybe I need to start deleting people.

People I can do without:

Stoners who sing, “I Love Smoke a Bowl”
Comics who blatantly rip off George Carlin’s bits
Internets who blatantly rip off Aram’s bits

I mean,

Bitch, please.

While I was writing this, I grew and lost a mustache. It was a bad decision. If you didn’t see me during that time, I looked like I should be in an old-school western or a new school prison.

Don’t sprays me, bro.

How quickly we forget 9-11.

As we near the end of 2011 and move into an election year, I can’t help but be disappointed at how Obama has handled the issue of gay rights. While Hilary was finally able to publically realize that being LGBTQ doesn’t mean that you’re any less of a person, the president has yet to take a stand and fight for what is by definition a civil rights issue. Instead, he has given the non-answer that his views on the matter are “evolving.” Although this effectively does nothing, it is much preferable to the discriminatory proposals offered by the ass clowns running as Republicans.

Obama 2012: It’s either him or the browneye of Newt (+2 nerd points)

Obama 2012: meh > fml

Obama 2012: Fruit on the bottom, hope on top

Mentioned on NPR

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 18:27:00 +0000

"The world of the very small is forever a-jiggling."

Wait...what?

Is it bad form to hit on someone on 9/11?

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 01:13:00 +0000

Just asking.

The Jigglybits Magazine

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 19:44:00 +0000

We have a new concept, which means we’ll soon do a lot of coke and split over creative differences. I wanted a National Geographic, but Aram pussied out on getting his boobs gauged with the bones of a porpoise. He wanted a fold cover, but I’d rather buy booze than pay for your broken monitors. I’m already looking forward to our eventual reunion in the form of a supergroup: Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young, Merrill-Lynch, Sacco and Vanzetti. Featuring Aram and Bono. We will wear unlaced ADIDAS and help bring hip hop to the masses. But until then, enjoy The Magazine.

-Bono

To open The Doors, turn to page 65.

To continue feeding Roger Ebert ketamine, turn to page 1.

Shoes, omg. Page 1.

Yes, it’s a shoes your own adventure.

Or for my Spanish speaking friends, un zapatas adventurate.

Because butchering my native tongue is too easy.

If you say “Doug” with a bit more exhale, you have “Dough.”

Restaurant Review - McDonalds: Kinda like if Gattaca was a snuff porn. I give it 2 bits.

Note to self that makes it look like I'm getting more than I am: Give chocolate lovin to Shannon and Heidi.

The word “Candelabra” is proof that even before modern technological advances, people have enjoyed glow in the dark lovin.

I mean, how else are you going to explain the Great Chicago Fire of 1871?

That proves nothing.

Letters from the Editor:

Dear Reader,

Stop it with all the letters already. You're starting to freak me the fuck out.

Xoxo,

Bono

Protip: If you’ve read Super Sad True Love Story, you should befriend the James Beard Foundation on Facebook.

Today’s phonics lesson: LOL

If something happens that irritates you, you might say OMFG. Unless you're an atheist. Then there is no G. Dr. Dre is jobless. Times are tough. But if you're an atheist and something really rubs you the wrong way, you might say OMFS. Oh my fucking science. And if you're an atheist and a scientist, you might say OHMS. Because that's the unit for resistance.

That was inaccurate, I'd like to apologize. If Dr. Dre was jobless, there would be no OG. And then you'd say MF, because new hip hop kinda sucks.

LMFAO (v): to suck at rapping

Autotune sounds like a computer entering puberty.

So, Charlotte Kemp Muhl is like totally dating Sean Lennon, and stuff. Hella dating. Wouldn’t it be fucking adorbs if she dressed up as Han Solo for Halloween?

Good news: This girl says we’re a Beatles song.

Bad news: I think I might be the walrus.

Blow his mind with 100 new red hot napping positions!

Listen, Sonny Jim. Sleeping this way will add 10 years to your divorce. I learned it from Keith Richards when I toured with the Stones.

I'm all for people trying things out. I've kissed a few dudes, never on purpose.

Music can be a powerful thing.

I said crink crank a crinka a crinky dinky crink crink crank ita yo stank bacrankadanka bank sank da Jason Statham crink crank a crinkydinky crank wanksta wicket n cheese.

I wrote the word “love” in an email, and Google

No, no, no.

Filthy.

And Google gave me suggestions for “sad love song lyrics.” Wtf, Page and Brin? I don’t like your automated virtual commentary on my situation.

I’m afraid to type “we should hang,” because it might give me suggestions for “rope.”

Btw, I didn’t know who owned Google, so I had to Google it. If I owned Google, I would make the result Chuck Norris, because I’d have that kind of power.

A friend just asked me what my wrestling name would be.

That's something I've never had to think about. What would I like the announcers, and other wrestlers (not to mention the rabid fans) to yell out? What would I like to have people write on signs with the hopes that they'll be seen on national TV?

First watch this

Then press mute.

Then watch this:

My friend: Jack Benny was always 39, and so am I. :)

If you know who Jack Benny is, you’re not 39.

Rodney Dangerfield moment. Ready?

I know, I know. It’ll only take a moment.

We were so poor growing up, man, we were so poor.

Yeah. And?

No, fuckass. You’re supposed to ask me how poor I was.

Oh. Huh. Well, how poor were you?

That’s right, prick. We were so poor, we didn’t eat Top Ramen. We ate Meh Ramen. Ha!

That isn’t funny.

Why are you still reading this?

Now is the time on Sprockets when I scare the shit out of you: I read someone describing himself as a “Sergeon,” and I am contractually unable to tell you who it is.

Enjoy that.

Printed above the nutritional facts on a can of Coke are the words "Low Sodium." In a related story, Chernobyl has great water pressure.

Bush got Saddam (giggle), Obama got Bin Laden. The next president will be a let down if he doesn’t get Dr. Evil.

But who do we have who could battle an intergalactic superdickhead?

As they say, fight spaceship willie with Spaceship Willie.

I’m usually against nepotism, but George Clinton would make an excellent Secretary of Non-Vehicular Transportation.

I recently got to witness a parking cop giving me a ticket, but I win because I’m not a parking cop.

He drives around in what is essentially this:

I don’t know what’s more amusing, that the back looks like this:

Or that he wears a bicycle helmet.

Regardless, that job is what happens to lower middle class men with small penises.

My neighbor is either vacuuming or very lonely.

My Friend: I’d give my firstborn to be able to fall asleep right now.

Me: If you’re handing out firstborns, I’ll take two.

Our generation needs a Groucho Marx.

One of my friends just had a kid, and another just won an Emmy. This forced me to wipe the Funyuns grease on my boxers so I could click “Like.”

I’m a busy guy, so I don’t always write this out in one sitting. Often enough, I jot down little snippets that I end up revisiting and expanding into entire bits. But occasionally, that leaves me with a random bit of incoherence that doesn’t fit in well with these other random bits of incoherence. If you can decipher my latest Seinfeld moment for me and tell me why it’s funny, I will personally take you out for a romantic evening of 40s on the curb at the Target parking lot. And I’ll even pay for mine:

Bono’s Boners! Look at the dancing monkey!

See, even I don’t have a clue what that means.

Dear girl at the ATM,

You were hot until you let the machine beep forfuckingever before taking your card.

Kisses,

Bono

Natural selection is me tweaking my neck while trying to scratch the inside of my ear with my shoulder. I think it’s better that I don’t breed.

“When I count, it means the whole world can hear me, even in the movies.”

Kids say the dumbest shit.

AF: So, tell me a bit about what makes Bono tick.

BONO: As a rock star, I have two instincts, I want to have fun, and I want to change the world.

AF: Mmm.

BONO: I have a chance to do both.

AF: Yeah.

BONO: In dabut

Today’s Tip for Hella Hotness:

Just the tip. Please? It won’t hurt. Trust me.

The Ladies Mullet: Business up front, party in dabut.

Things to do while in Dabut:

Spelunking

Funny name: Robert Packwood

While baking something for this girl I like, I accidentally burned myself so that it looked like I’m really lonely.

Funny name: Bruce Cockburn

Protip: Don’t be a fool, Bono Isatool.

Look. Advil makes condoms. In case your partner’s a sadist and you’re just a really nice guy.

AF: Be honest. Did you really know a bitch named Eric Wright, or did you just need a rhyme?

That's some real conversation for your ass.

If you find yourself having deez nuts, double deez nuts, or really anything above a B cup, call a Dr. immediately.

I take care of myself, but it tends to lead to injury. It makes me feel a lot older than I am. The other day I was working out and I think I pulled my triceriteps.

Fitness tip: If you find yourself about to pull your triceriteps, remember that every time you do, god kills a velociraptor.

In my line of work, I’m really young. Whenever someone asks what my cell is, I say “stem.”

In Massachusetts, you have to be 5’9” in order to donate sperm. That seems a bit too selective. I know plenty of women who couldn’t do that.

The reasoning behind this is that people don’t want short babies.

Gattaca! Gattaca!

That’s not exactly fair, nor is it necessarily the best decision. The short ones are so much easier to fit in a purse or an overhead bin. They’re convenient. You could keep a few in the glove box or in your back pocket in case you suddenly needed one. You could hand them out as party favors or stuff them in a piñata.

You’re not the first to tell me I’d make a great dad.

But I’ll just settle for a Facebook app that lets me input certain words that will filter out the status updates I see.

My Friend: Ooo how good is the Lord....lol. I just bought my first ever coach purse (on sale of course) :)

Perhaps I just need to start deleting people.

Question: “I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?”

Answer: Religious people are fucking crazy.

And no. You throw like Stephen Hawking.

I hear that publishers are trying to get more money from libraries by only letting their ebooks get checked out 25 times before the library has to buy a new file. As a reader, I think that’s a flawed system. How am I supposed to eat bacon while reading and licking my fingers to turn the pages in case the next person to check out the book happens to be someone who thinks that animal doesn’t belong inside of us?

Technology fucks everything up.

Special Offer: Subscribe today and receive the BonoBox360 Sexbot and iPod Dock v.2.0

Comes with its own fully-adjustable desk mount and cigarette lighter adapter
Space age memory foam technology
Removes unwanted lint
Includes a joystick for playing Space Invaders
Preprogrammed with over 500 inspirational quotes:

“Be yourself!”

“I dare you! I double dare you, motherfucker, say ‘what’ one more goddamn time!”

“It is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for both yourself and others will come!”

Available in faux-stone finish to blend in seamlessly with your lawn décor
3 models to choose from: Classic: $49.95, Touch: $89.95, Classic with ads: $39.95

I often wonder about the vampire equivalent of the BANG! gun. Is it like an inflatable wooden stake? Or maybe one that leaves a smudge, like that gum that turns your mouth black.

“Mmmm. Blood. Fucking nom.”

*stab*

“Aaaaah! You dick! What’d you do that for?”

“It was funny.”

“Oh, right. Funny. Now, how am I supposed to get that out?”

“Well, you know. Do you have one of those little…”

“What, like a Clorox pen? I’m wearing a cape. Do you think I have fucking pockets? You’re lucky this thing is black. It doesn’t really show dirt.”

“Well, maybe you should get one of those satchels.”

“What, like a man purse?”

“No, man. I mean like a satchel. Indiana Jones has one.”

“I’m already in negative man points for dressing like this. You want me to add a strappy strap bag thing?”

“It’s practical.”

“Really.”

“What, are you not secure about yourself?”

“Secure? I’m fucking Dracula, bitch. Read a book. I have issues.”

Yeah, that’s pretty much how it would go down.

Fitness tip (n): Arnold Schwarzenegger’s what-have-you

To see what that’s like, turn to page 1.

To experience it firsthand, vote Republican.

Hello?

Um, hello?

Anyone there?

Oh, I’m sorry. Which one of you ordered extra Assange?

It is ok. I am expert.

Yeah. You read this for the articles.

George Carlin said that most of the people who are against abortion are people you wouldn’t want to fuck in the first place. Though I’m straight, I feel the same way about homophobes. And I don’t think I’m alone. I doubt the lesbian collective just looked at Michele Bachmann and said, “Balls.”

Though I am a bit surprised we haven’t seen any bad “Bachmann: Turn Her Over, Drive” jokes yet.

Surprised narcoleptics say, “Ohh, nap!”

I’m sorry. But you can’t pick up a tomato and expect The Onion.

Area Man Will Turn Car Around If You Don’t Stop It Right Now

Twitter Ponders Increase to 160 characters. Internet Changes Its Pants.

Betty Ford Dead at 93 of Massive Heroin Overdose

Fall Out Boy Seeks Speech Therapy After Thousands Show Up To Concert Wearing Mullets

Oxford Style Guide drops the Oxford Comma. Andre 3000 Decides Smart Girls Just Aren’t That Hot

Inflatable Shark Among 300 Species Discovered in Philippines

No joke. That’s just fucking rad. And likely the future cause of human extinction.

In lieu of making a will, I think I’ll make a scavenger hunt. I don’t promise everything will be easy to reach.

The PT Cruiser is like a hearse for short people.

Free T-shirt idea: Save the drama for your Oxford comma.

Please, someone make that so we can distinguish the nerds from the douchey nerds.

Don’t get me wrong, I love nerds in several different positions.

Unfortunate acronyms:

MUSTE
NARD

Hey, that looks like a porn site: http://nard.us.com

It’s not.

I have so many of those that I could almost start a second site of just filthy URLs.

URL sounds like a sexual preference, BTW.

But what would I call it?

www.facebook.com

(n): man mouth on girlybits

If I ran Facebook, I would include a “relatively indifferent” button for us not to click.

Alternate names for Google+:

Google Your Friends

The Googleybits

Google Yes! Oh God, Yes! WAKA WAKA WAKA!

If you happened to get the Dishwalla reference in that joke, let me know so we can both awkwardly deny having ever listened to that band.

Album Review: Shit sandwich.

Kokomo

Adjacent to Aruba, Jamaica and at least one frigid, but still kinda hot biochem student with several children and alcoholic tendencies, this tropical destination is known for its vast steel reserves, no longer relevant psychedelia and wild, untamed reverb on the snare drum. The local population consists of mostly immigrants, astronauts, and narcoleptics. National pastimes include alliteration and pretending alliteration will get you laid.

That song is like the creepy old man anthem. I’m sure even Prince thought, “Um, bitches, I think you’ve crossed the line.”

Dear Facebook,

The 30-Day Song Challenge is not a challenge. It’s like saying “Bet you can’t masturbate every day this month.”

Kisses,

Bono

I think that might be the first time I’ve used the word “masturbate” in this blog. Sorry.

Hokay, kids. Has everyone ready for making the English?

A belief or philosophy must have one to bring it about. If there is no one to think it, it can not be. Linguistically speaking, where there’s an ism, there’s an ist.

You get the gist? No?

Bob Marley was a firm believer in the practice of smoking a good J. He was a Jist. He practiced Jism.

Bob Marley and Dr. Seuss! And Dr. Dre! And Dr. Phil! Secret love child!

Pac Man Dead

Pac Man was found dead today in the depths of a blue maze, but only for about a second before he withered away into nothingness. The cause of death for the 31 year old infinite-sided polygon is believed to be accidental. An analysis of his stomach contents revealed 63,834,678,902,345,423 pills, several pieces of fruit and one ghost. When reached for comment, longtime lover and professional talking carpet, Fozzie Bear, appeared devastated, but not at all surprised. “That was just the lifestyle they had, him and the Ms. I think we always knew he couldn’t go on like that forever. Often times, he would seek escape, but just end up right back in the same place he was before.” Bear, 35, cited the irony of one of their more prominent exchanges. “I was in pretty bad shape, too. I mean, it was the 80s. It got so bad that he and the Ms., they tried to make me go to rehab. I said, ‘Yes! Oh god yes! WAKA WAKA WAKA!’ Which is probably why I’m here talking to you today.” According to Bear, the deceased was a spiritual being. “He always believed in reincarnation,” said Bear. “And I personally don’t think it’ll be long before we see him again.”

That will be $3.95, please. Seriously. I’m out of Jameson.

Everything's under control. Situation normal.

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Wed, 18 May 2011 07:23:00 +0000

So, for a solid 7 months, this one post had a coding error that I just couldn't figure out. As a result, it cut off everything after the first sound file, which was roughly the bottom 2/3. As is often the case, that's the region that houses the most interesting bits.

In writing #11, I used a few references to the long-doomed #7, and in doing so, figured out how to fix it.

So, here it is in its entirety:

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 7

Nards.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 11

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 09 May 2011 02:18:00 +0000

Say everybody, have you seen my balls, they’re big and salty and beige?

I wrap mine in bacon.

Sometimes this blog makes me feel a bit like the man standing in a pickle suit next to a sandwich shop and a gay bar.

At the risk of destroying my credibility by using an actual definition,

Gimcrack (n): a gewgaw

Unfortunately for most orthodox flamboyants, Gewgaw on gimcrack is still illegal.

But seriously, the second definition is

Gimcrack (adj): tasteless

Aram’s laundry day Twitter: I would like to extend to you an invitation to the pants party.

I realize that, because of this blog, Aram no longer needs to tweet.

And neither do any of you. Twitter is like Sarah Palin. If you stop paying attention, it will go away.

April fool!

It’s not really April.

Ha!

I’m disappointed in Good Friday as a writer. Is “good” the best you could come up with? “Good” doesn’t mean best, or really all that great. This essentially leaves us with “Meh Friday.” I’m not sensing a lot of enthusiasm for the impending rescue of humanity via bloody execution. Like the Buddy Christ, I think the Vatican should consider an update of terms. Something like “Gargantuan Friday,” “Woooooot! Friday!” (punctuation helps, too) or “Yeah, Motherfuckin Friday, Motherfuckers.” That is the kind of enthusiasm over the impending weekend that I could get behind. And it is catchy enough that someone might end up making a movie about it.

So, what did you do for 4/20?

I worked. It was a Wednesday.

It’s been a busy week. I had my morning coffee at 9.

The other one.

But when I do have free time, I like to volunteer and teach children useful life skills, like how to write an effective business letter.

Dear Bitches,

Give me the money.

Kisses,

Bono

There are maybe 4 different kinds of car alarms in the world, so it’s tough to determine whether or not you should care. So,

Free million dollar idea: Car alarm ringtones.

It won’t take two seconds of head bobbing before “Oh, shit!” and breaking out into a dead run.

In theory, of course.

“Dude, that’s yours.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you gonna get it?”

“Nah. This is my jam.”

I love it when people buy sports jerseys. In another year or two, they’re going to look even more like douchebags.

Except for him. He gets a pass.

If a college bar has 80s night, do the patrons dress as sperm?

Amazeballs (n): Rapid Onset Beer Nuts (ROBN)

ROBN Hood (n): Occurs in non-Jewish patients

ROBN Williams (n): Sasquatch

Tweet of the month: “Getting new hair next Friday. Yay.”

O_o

Back in the days of burlesque, when male actors wanted to portray women, they would wear pubic hair wigs called merkins.

A merkin sounds like a furry woodland creature. Well, it is. Lives in the bush. Eats nuts.

Because of its appearance, it is often called a “map of Tasmania.”

Or Chile or South America, depending upon how you're equipped.

I think it's a good thing. They can provide some much-needed assistance to those less fortunate. I for one plan on growing it out and donating to Locks of Lovin.

Mercantile (n): One option for vajazzling

Vajuggling (v): you sick fuck.

This month’s installment of Not a Porn Site: http://blogs.forbes.com/lisaarthur/2011/02/22/seth-godin-pokes-the-box/

Times are tough if Forbes is slutting it up.

I like going on Facebook and befriending old people who never use Facebook. That way, when the hackers come, I get to see this on a regular basis.

For our parents, “hashtag” was how you kept your crops in order.

And #tigerblood was probably a Vietnamese blend.

Too soon? Any veterans in the house? Mah-bad.

Throughout the speculation regarding who will now star in Two and a Half Men, one obvious choice has been overlooked.

Then ABC was like, “Emilioooooo!”

It makes perfect sense.

Lynx blood
Parties with phone sex operators
Was on an epic jog that made Clinton look like Taft
Only bangs 6 gram rocks
Doesn’t really bang them. Makes sweet love to them in a morally supportive manner so that they are content with their feelings of self-worth and if only just for a moment no longer resentful of their fathers for being cold and distant to their mothers ever since they were born, ruining that perfectly freaky arrangement of Thursday night leather, bicycle pumps and thin apartment walls
D3 = Poetry.

I like libraries, like more than a friend.

Excuse me, miss? Where in the Dewey Decimal System do I find “Skeet?”

My hard drive froze in the computer I use to edit sound.

So, just press play.

Actually, one of the most effective uses for medical pot is for the treatment of epilepsy. So if you think you might be at risk, ask your doctor to see if a fatty of chronic is right for you.

I just heard someone described as “a younger Justin Beiber.” Seeing how this is obviously the next big thing, I’ll save everyone time and create the slang now:

Sperm.

GZ One is:

a) The latest incarnation of a former Wu-Tang clansman
b) Bill Clinton’s post-presidential private jet
c) Something that stays in your pocket until you’re ready to reach out and touch someone

That’s an official promotional photo. I can’t make that shit up.

For your convenience, Casio has made this device:

[x] Waterproof
[x] Shockproof
[x] Dustproof

This will fit your needs, no matter how much you’re used to getting.

I’m keeping mine on vibrate.

Latest Facebook annoyance: People who check in at “my bed.” Unless your bed is a place of business, leave that shit off the internet. It’s the equivalent of a gay man (or a lucky straight man) checking in at “my sweetie’s butthole.”

Freudian fingerslip: Don’t want to meet your comma.

Life gave me melons.

I dated a dancer, and she was a fucking idiot. Actually, she was a fucking genius, but an idiot at everything else, so it didn't last long.

Basically, I want a gymnast who can spell.

I also saw this stoner who would get high and then not want to fool around. I kept telling her, "First take care of head," but she wouldn't listen.

If you don't get the reference, I'll wait. You're already online; you could just Excite it or Yahoo it or Alta Vista it, which is the kinkiest of them all.

Kinkier than Google is the kind of thing I'd like on my tombstone.

And yes, I'm aware of the irony of writing this on a blog site made by Google using a phone made by Google that I bought from a man made by Google.

Yes, they've branched out into cloning. It's their new division, Doppelgoogle.

Actually, that's a lie. I have a Brickberry.

To all Apple users: My laptop has two right click buttons and a right click function button on the keyboard. #suckit

Freudian fingerslip: When responding to someone named Narda, you know.

They’re right next to each other. Sue me.

Best. Dialogue. Ever:

“Where’s Macak?”

I love speaking and writing in other languages, but I know English is where I belong, simply because they saw it fit to make “meatball” one word.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you don’t like the taste of balls, you can fix that:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/3121465/Cooking-With-Balls-Worlds-first-testicle-recipe-book.html

Dear The Vatican,

You turn people into saints because they did some good things. What about he/she who invented pasta? That move was aces.

Kisses,

Bono

Note to self: If you find yourself in a city that starts with “The,” run.

The King James Version

From the upcoming album, Crunky Monks.

I need a new grill. I wonder how effectively platinum conducts heat.

When Snoop calls himself “D O Double Gizzle,” I D O Double Giggle.

Sorry. I’ll never do that again.

I wonder if Vanilla Ice knew what “word to your mother” meant. I can imagine him finding out now and being like, “Oh, mercy me.”

To those of you expecting me to tell jokes, I’m sorry. I’ll try to accommodate.

If you’ve ever brushed your arm hair in anticipation of female companionship…

Yeah, this doesn’t work well for me.

Do you ever get really excited when you're going to see someone and you start rehearsing things to say and you come up with one that's really good, sure to get a response and then when you get there you start to say it and they interrupt you with something completely off topic and it makes you hate that person? That's why I don't talk to people.

Things I can do without: old people who smell like cigarettes

Thingies I can do without: fake ones

How buoyant are fake boobs? Is it like if she floats she's a witch?

I like a woman who takes care of herself but still has three dimensions. Hips are sexy as hell, but tempting scholiosis with your walk isn't. Who decided that was hot? That doesn't tell me that you can move sideways in bed. It tells me that even when you walk you're trying too hard and you’re obviously insecure. If you go to great lengths to draw attention to certain body parts and away from others, it's clear that you don't love your entire self. And then, when I try to, you'll get all weird and defensive and don’t let me. I don't need that kind of crazy.

Also, I fly a lot, and if you try to walk like that on an airplane, you could end up taking out the entire population of aisle seat passengers one by one.

Still, I like it when a woman walks like that, wears makeup, bleaches her hair and wears designer clothes. It weeds out the people I don't ever need to talk to.

Well, there's one less fish.

I generally don't have celebrity crushes, but Charlotte Kemp Muhl is fucking gorgeous.

A. She has a rapist wit

B. She is artistically inclined

C. Star Wars shirt under a leather jacket.

D. She is open to dating Wookees

Her face kinda weirds me out, but I can look past that.

My love life is usually like this

And this

http://lizprincepower.com/comics/alone-forever-19-barred-for-life

And crazy hot sex with random supermodels.

I just need to make sure my mother would be proud if she ever found out I wrote this.

Shakespeare is credited with inventing upwards of 1,500 words. I aspire to have that kind of long-lasting impact on society (+3 old fuck points), so I like to take two completely unrelated words and combine them to make a new term that nobody will ever use.

Massochist (n):

Could you use it in a sentence?

Sure.

She likes to get spanked.

Chandruff (n): When Jackie Chan runs out of shampoo

Chindruff (n): When Osama Bin Laden runs out of shampoo

Fuck. We’re going to have to find someone new for the beard jokes.

Maodruff (n): When your cat runs out of shampoo

Vitalitarrhea (n): a popular activity among massochists

Shakespeare is also credited with inventing the knock knock joke. I would like to be remembered as the inventor of the ding dong joke.

A blond walks into a bar.

But only after she rang the doorbell and was invited in. I know it's a place of business, but blondes have manners, too.

In fact, she was so polite, the bartender let her ring the last call bell with her dildo.

I overheard an old couple complaining about kids with baggy pants, because apparently they still exist. As a twentysomething old fuck, I can't wait until the emo youngs stop showing off their bulges.

The airport has a device called a Bag Sizer, which is essentially the female version of The Penis Mightier.

Flying American Airlines is a step up from my usual Southwest. Their flight attendant call buttons actually make that noise. I'm used to them having to bring Jay and Silent Bob over to my seat.

I don't freak out about flying. The safety measures they take are incredible. They brought this dog into the airport, and he went right past the unbaithed bearded guy and went right to the garbage can outside of the barbecue joint.

Free million dollar idea: a Facebook app that blocks when people update their statuses with bible verses.

I mean, jesus fuck already.

The past tense of dick is duck. He gave hot dickings. He hot duck.

I know someone who is responsible for making a duck stamp. I just have one question: noun or verb?

It's a group effort.

And a public contest.

So, I was on this girl's couch at her place in the woods with ten cats, and one of them came up and wanted to get comfortable. I was ok with that. I have nothing against cats, other than them being little motherfuckers. But the cat started getting more than what is normally deemed friendly for a cat. She (or maybe he. That shouldn't make this any weirder) crawled up to my armpit, dug in and started licking my right boob. Not like a curious lick or a "you spilled something there" lick. This cat started mining for buried whatever using that nice little oral pickaxe they all have. I didn't know what to do, so I watched, feeling slightly violated and hoping she would stop. But she didn't let up. I wanted to tell her, "Hello. That's mine. And as long as I've had it, nothing has come out of it." Besides the cat being a total skeezbag, rubbing herself wherever she could on me, she appeared to be trying to get milk from the teat of a completely different species. I mean, how fucked up is that?

And did I just inadvertently participate in some form of bestiality? Am I going to hell now?

Current latest thing that blew my mind: A friend of mine brought her pug to a chiropractor for treatment.

Free shirt idea: I Meh NJ

When a hipster grows up, does he/she get a fixie car?

So, it’s National Poetry Month.

Shut up. Act like it’s April.

So, it’s National Poetry Month.

Here I sit
All broken hearted
Why are you laughing
That shit really hurts
Dickhole

Poets are sensitive.

I just discovered that they’re considering making a Crank 3. Finally. A film that answers all of the unanswered questions of Crank 2: High Voltage.

But considering that this would now be considered a series, we can all expect several additional films, or perhaps a series of prequels released on the momentous 22nd anniversary of the original.

I make it my goal to by then secure that job in Hollywood where one sits in a dank basement and emerges with titles.

Crank 3: The Crankening

Crank 4: Release the Cranken

Crank 5: Enter the Cranken

Crank 6: Rocky 3

Or perhaps it will follow the Indiana Jones model and wait just long enough for nobody to care about an unnecessary sequel.

Crank 4: The One in which We Find Out that Jason Statham is not Vin Diesel

But considering that times are tough, I may end up having to forgo Hollywood for the San Fernando Valley.

Crankshaft

Enter the Cranken

Rocky 5

I’m getting in shape. I have a four pack. I’m not going to say how many of those are ribs.

The following story is now illegal in China, because it transports you back to before April 18th.

Though it’s been a while since I have filed and paid for the service, Turbotax keeps sending me notices, saying “It’s not too late to file.” This from the gatekeeper between my ass and the government.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66ZtDML36zY

Another year of successfully completing my taxes without pressing the Ottoman Turkish Empire Settlement Payment button.

Look! A falling government. Make a wish.

With all of the recent unrest in the world, there has been a sharp increase in the posting of this video on Facebook

I think we’re doing ourselves a disservice by not also posting this

Dare I say, the next John Lennon.

“I’ve never heard rhymes like that.” – A. Cronauer

If you say “amazeballs” to a Spanish speaker, it’s like you’re saying

I think I’m going to start saying “nards” again. It’s time.

Awww

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 08 May 2011 06:40:00 +0000

Love,

Bono

Today always feels like an anniversary,

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 27 Mar 2011 18:02:00 +0000

even though that was back in November.

I want to have your jigglies.

Was that out loud?

I love this time of year,

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 22:06:00 +0000

if only for the increasing popularity of the word

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 10

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 04:52:00 +0000

It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. It’s a new life x40.

And I’m feeling jiggly.

Hey, everyone. Look at Aram.

Twitter is fucking stupid. But I admit, I’m on there. I kinda want to follow Mitch Hedberg, but I’m a little scared.

I also want to follow an amnesiac.

Oh, look. I ate corn last night.

Or an alcoholic vegetarian.

That’s called a dangling modifier, kids.

Friday was National Grammar Day. But that’s over. And today is actually National Write Whateverthefuck You’d Like With No Chance Of Repercussion Because Your Eighth Grade English Teacher No Longer Rules Your Life And Can Go Suck A Bag Of Dicks Day.

We should have a parade. But we’ll have to keep it short enough to fit on Twitter.

This post is conveniently in 140,000 characters. That way Aram doesn’t have to tweet.

I think that’s what being a Power User gets you.

Dear Jeff Dunham,

Please go away. You have funny voices, but your jokes are crap. I’d rank you in between Frank Caliendo and Sport Coat Willie out at the J Street rail station.

Kisses,

Bono

Dancing Dan has a Facebook page. Congratulations, Mark Zuckerberg. You have created The Information Superstreetcorner.

I think that site exists to make me look like a douche.

My friend: There are no words to truly capture how I feel. The mental and physical exhaustion is all worth it when your patient smiles and is genuinely grateful for your presence. There is so much to be learned from their honesty, resilience, compassion, and wisdom.

Me: I still haven’t showered, but damn this fudge is tasty.

My friend: ‎"i was a heavy heart to carry, but he never let me down. when he held me in his arms, my feet never touched the ground"

Me: (Arrested Development reference)

My friend: ‎"In the United States, for every two men who receive college degrees, three women will do the same. This past year, for the first time, there were more women than men in the workplace." Read the Atlantic article, too.

Me: Look at this picture of my dinner.

My friend: ‎"No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others." ~ Martha Graham

Me: I made a turd that looks like a little man doing The Carlton.

My friend: Look at this picture of my cat.

Me: Douche.

(n): swampass

I like taking care of myself, but I also like Lebanese food.

I appreciate their honesty.

Why are the drawers for cheese and butter much smaller than the drawers for everything else? This does not reflect my diet.

I’m skinny as fuck, but my inner fat kid is far superior to yours.

I recently
1. Made chocolate chip cookies
2. out of chocolate cake
3. and candy
4. which I then ground up and used as a crust
5. for a cheesecake
6. which I then dunked in milk.

If you are lactose intolerant, I am sorry for how awesome my life is.

I have a fork that is shaped like a raptor claw. +2 man points. It only has 3 prongs, and it’s pointy as fuck, perfect for stabbing and ripping at whatever kind of meat I happen to be eating because I’m a man and I’m totally always eating a lot of meat and stuff, hella. But as with every perfect weapon, there’s a weakness. My kryptonite is rice. I tried to use my fork to get the last rouse on my plate, and I probably ended up burning more calories than I achieved in the end. It sucked. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened to the dinosaurs. Shut up, you weren’t there.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Bono.

I did a Google Image search for Mohammed. Am I going to hell?

God’s brown and curlies.

I quit studying biology because several years and thousands of dollars later I still didn’t know whether or not fire ants had fire crotches. They should each have three of them, if my calculations are correct. They would be the United Nations Fire Crotch Ambassadors, provided that fire centipedes don’t exist.

Three word story: Itchiest mistake ever.

I am the #1 Google result for Hemingway’s Jigglybits.

Lesbianism (n): The Vagina Dialogues

Jonathan Knight from New Kids on the Block announced that he is gay, which elicited the response from young females everywhere, “What What on the What?”

Which happens to be the title of his latest single.

http://www.vajazzling.com/content/what-vajazzling

Dance Hall (n): hehe

I probably should be upset that I didn’t invent the term, but I’m ok, considering I don't want to be with someone who does this. It’s not that it’s disgusting or unnatural. I just have no desire to be with someone who feels the need to do this to be happy.

I’d give it about 3 years until it gets popular with rappers.

Va-Jay-Jay-Z.

But what would we call the male equivalent of this?

Gluing shit to your cock.

We’re simple creatures. Straight shooters. We get right to it. No dicking around.

Third base (n): Va-Jazz Hands

I think a mindfuck is like a ground rule double.

http://www.aolnews.com/2011/01/06/chemical-in-womens-tears-turns-men-off-study-finds/

This makes sense, given the theory that tears are an indication of vulnerability, rather than sadness. I like a strong woman. Nothing turns me off more than one who makes herself helpless in the face of easily conquered adversity. And yet, there are men who prefer when the stripper is crying.

That means that if you aren’t right for me, don’t worry. There are plenty of fish in the pants.

I prefer a woman of good melon-quality who makes me pay attention to her upstairs. And if she also has nice boobs, that’s a plus.

I live above a cute girl around the same age as me. She has this aura of an indie rock listening slightly awkward because she’s not wearing her glasses today hating human contact and always on guard in case some fucktard gives her reason to verbally pimp slap them but she’ll be civil to me because I’m probably a douchebag not worth her breath and if she doesn’t contribute to the forward motion of the rapidly dying conversation than I should leave soon yes please soon get the fuck out of my doorway at 5:00 in the fucking afternoon so I can go back to doing or not doing anything else kind of personality.

Yes, please.

The only time we’ve really talked was right after I moved in when I made her cookies to introduce myself and offer the obligatory “I’m here if you need anything.” She then gave me this look like my unsolicited act of neighborly kindness totally skeezed her the fuck out, which I’m pretty sure is why I’m attracted to her.

I doubt anything is going to happen because:

I’m not really a looker.

I’m almost positive she can hear me fart but she can’t hear me work out.

And if she did, she’d probably think I’m attached.

She probably also thinks I’m gay (and not a very good partner) with how often I say, “Goddammit, Kyle!”
Perhaps the only thing I have going for me is that she doesn’t know I write this. I’m a nice guy, but this shit is about as endearing as herpes.
She moved away about a month ago. This is what happens when I skip posting in an effort to freak online daters the fuck out. Everything you’re reading is old news and should be ignored.

And now, this month’s installment of Not A Porn Site: www.kjzz.org

I don’t see all the fuss. It’s just a jzz org.

Remember those comics where you had to find each thing that was wrong?

Find each thing that is wrong. Answers printed upside down at the end.

I realized when I was about 10 years old that Garfield is not funny. I’m not sure if what changed was my mental development or if his best years are simply behind him.

That strip should be renamed “I can has been.”

I like standup comedy, but I don’t watch it because I don’t have cable, and the only network show that features standup comedians is Comics Unleashed.

Their guest list, which changes every night, more often than not consists of D-list comedians.

Will you please welcome…Denny Smith!

Nobody knows who the fuck Denny Smith is. And there’s a reason he is on network. He’s not funny. But sometimes, they’ll spice things up by having forgotten celebrities on the show who are now stand up comedians because they have bills and nobody wants them to act anymore.

Ladies and gentlemen…Pauly Shore!

That helps in that you know before they start talking that you aren’t going to care, and you can go back to concentrating on the person you share a bed with being a frigid bitch.

The show itself is set up like a conversation, but it’s one of those awkward setups where the host only speaks in phrases meant to spark one of the guest’s routines. Fuck lobbing them softballs. They should break into the hard-hitting questions.

So Pauly, what’s the deal with the conflict in Libya?

I’m glad you asked me that, Spanky, because it’s an issue that we’ve been wrestling with for weeks now at the Shore compound. Though my children are convinced that Gaddafi is a menace to the livelihood of the Lybian people at large, they remain in their younger and more vulnerable years while I hold out the possibility that we might be victims of a slightly jingoistic domestic media amalgam who can’t help but serve as a vector for their corporate benefactors and the Neo-Smithian system of late-market capital which maintains their prominence. And regardless, my own independent judgment is skewed by the inherent viewpoints brought unto me by my being a member of the privileged, Caucasian upper class in a traditionally isolationist (when not imperialist) Western society, not to mention my apparent reliance on foreign petroleum and the global financial consequences resulting from conflicting sociopolitical philosophies and the recent unrest and upheaval in the region. And I am the fucking weasel.

Funny

The daughter of Lotz Jansen and Shit Ton Jansen.

Words that are not Yiddish: www.hypertufa.net

Oof. She got me right in the hypertufa.

I wanted to hear some good piano pop and I made the mistake of putting on Billy Joel. It’s no contest. He’s an ass clown compared to Elton John.

She’s a robo-babe. In Latin, she would be called “Babia Majora.” If she was a president, she’d be “Baberaham Lincoln.”

Robust (n): mechanical boobs

http://puddlegum.net/radiohead-01-and-10/

I get it.

My friend: iPhones are trying to make the world seem dummer.

I think this is a good time to tell you that anything you say on Facebook may eventually end up here.

My friend: So this guy in my history class looks like one of the ss Nazis from Indiana jones kinda weird

I know what you mean. Screenwriters today just don’t have the creativity that they used to.

I want to go to North Korea just for the protests.

“What’s the time?”

“IT’S TIME TO GET IL!”

It's on like Kim Jong.

Does your phone have a Geiger counter app?

I kinda hope I drop my phone in the toilet. As far as smartphones go, the Brickberry is a bit of a waterhead.

Someone gave me an individually wrapped piece of candy with 8 words of instructions on how to open it. Is this their sly way of telling me I’m an idiot? Not only are they giving me something that is usually consumed by children, but they’re including an operations manual. This is clearly intended for me because kids don’t read what they eat. If you ask a kid,
“What did you eat?”
“Candy.”
“What kind of candy?”
*fidgets*
“It was good.”
If 8 words of instruction on the package are necessary, they should read “Open it or your ass gets no candy.” Don’t insult me with procedures. But truth be told, I don’t really mind the instructions as much as the associated drawing showing me the exact mechanics I need to employ to achieve the desired outcome. Is this where natural selection has led us? It’s really rather insulting. I’d show you a picture, but I got frustrated after 10 minutes of tugging on the wrapper and I threw it away.

PBJ = peanut butter, beer and jelly. Have you ever eaten something with peanut butter and not had something to drink with it?

Why is “Redneck” not a derogatory term for a Native American? Or a communist? Why must it imply someone who tends to hate those two groups?

Dictionary.com has a word of the day in English and Spanish. But they’re not the same word, which is frustrating. No joke, I would use the Spanish word for “autoschediastical.”

No. Not how David Carradine died.

I can’t be the only one who hopes Dick Cheney dies in an autoerotic waterboarding accident.

When aliens discover the internet, I hope they go here before whitehouse.gov. It always helps to have some context.

I’m a nonfiction writer, so it’s my job to bring people reality. I’m a realitor.

Politicians and pundits getting mad at Jon Stewart is like musicians getting mad at Weird Al or Beavis and Butthead. Nobody made a fuss over “Eat It” or “Total Eclipse of My Bunghole.”

I don’t know if that last one actually happened, but it should have.

My neighbor hung a bedsheet out of her window with all sorts of writing condemning human trafficking within the US. I share her viewpoint, but because I live to the left of her, I can not effectively express my agreement via bedsheet. Most people in this country were taught to read left to right, removing all context from my message. They would look at my sheet first and not know what I refer to when I say, “Hella.”

I’m trying out this super intuitive new browser, but it never assumes what I want it to.

And it’s clearly trying to make me pick a fight with my friends.

My friend: I hate reposts. I also vow to stop retweeting people I follow on twitter. That is all.

Me: I hate reposts. I also vow to stop retweeting people I follow on twitter. That is all.

Facebook has a new game for me to not play, called Cityville. It appears they have run out of ideas. After Farmville, Fishville and all the rest, they have resorted to what is essentially Villeville.

I am going to play the fuck out of Tunafish.

Buss (v): A playful kiss, a smack

Short Buss (v): You sick fuck.

If any of you happen to be working in IT, I know computers are meant to be multitasking devices, but mine keeps spitting Ritalin at me from its disk drive. What does that mean?

You know who was awesome? George Burns.

I just saw the AT&T man pull up, set cones on either side of his van, spend 20 minutes talking on his phone in the driver's seat, pick up the cones and drive away. In a related story, my internet had been spazzing all day and is now working just fine. There is only one explanation for this:

My computer is cheating on me with the AT&T guy.

Yes, right in front of my eyes, he sat out there, cooing on the phone to my moody little Thinkpad, getting it to act like it was several years younger, working in ways that I could only wish for maybe once a year on my birthday.

It’s not like I neglect the thing. I mean, I keep it turned on more often than not. My hands are constantly running across it, pressing buttons, fingers swiping across the heat-sensitive multitouch pad. I even swapped out the hard drive once with the help of another man. But perhaps the part that gets the most attention from me is the trackstick. I always have my finger directly on that little red spot that doesn’t take much pressure to really make things move.

But obviously, that wasn’t enough. It required a whole different type of interaction. And I blame myself for not taking the time to set up, much less use the voice command function. That could’ve really made things kinky.

TCP/IP (v): 1) the act of giving a silicon shower. 2) 01110010-Kelly’s latest single.

+2 nerd points

Dabut Rock (n):

Most people don’t know that film was actually a remake.

He’s lurking. In the shadows. Of your couch. For fucking weeks. He’s 35 years old. And he works at Old Navy. He has a cat. Named Dorito. This summer. Just like last summer. And probably the next. An inaction hero. For us white guys with dreads. Colin. Firth. Is.

Definition from the ‘70s :
Stash box (n): a place to keep your weed because your parents will never think to look in the one box you own that also just happens to reek of weed

Not to be confused with

Stache box (v): man mouth on girlybits

Ladies and Gentlemen: St. Michael of Ahehe!

No reason for this. Just wanted to.

Young George Harrison looks much more like a vampire than the dude from Twilight.

And that sparkle? It’s sweat. From being a fucking god.

I wish more people traveled by yak.

“How’d you get here so quickly?”

“Yakback.”

Why are you still reading this?

Funny city name:

Hehe. Lemonwood.

I grew up in a small town, where the local government is referred to as “The Itty Bitty City Committee.”

Today’s reason why my hometown sucks: They sold out a Boz Scaggs show.

I am continuously amazed by the witness protection program. They managed to take John Belushi and reposition him in a much safer role where nobody will pay attention to him:

Aram’s is drawing.

He’s not quadriplegic. He’s quadriplwinning.

Dear World,

See how annoying that shit is? Let’s knock it the fuck off.

Kisses,

Bono

Aren't we at war?

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 02:04:00 +0000

#Oscars

Lyrical math

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 02:43:00 +0000

Valen * ≥ 2 =

:)

Happy Anna Howard Shaw Day.

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 09:48:00 +0000

I refuse to be another douchebag who says, "Happy V.D." and then proceeds to giggle like he isn't a total douchebag.

So instead, I have become another douchebag on Strikingly Average Cupid.

This little social experiment will go on roughly until I get kicked off of the site. It's been live for about an hour now, and I already have people contacting me. I see it going down a bit like this:

Updates will follow as I feel like posting them.

-Bono

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 9

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 06:21:00 +0000

Congratulations to Natalie Portman and Aram Fresh.

It’s widely known in Hollywood that when you marry your choreographer, you’re just covering up who the real daddy is. The truth is, she took one look at this

and BAM. Pregnant.

Number nine.

Number nine.

Number NEIN!

If you send me your hate mail, I’ll be a little less lonely.

On the plus side, I think I just gained a whole blitzkrieg of Glenn Beck fans.

Chapter 29:

“I’m a bit jiggler. I jiggle bits.”

I know this shit can seem a tad random, and I feel you. I’ll give you a tip to help you enjoy the rest of this post:

“Please? Can I? Just a tip?”

That was from Chapter 34.

When something happens that irritates me, I tend to say, “Balls.” If you agree, you can then say, “Totes scrotes.”

I’m bringing back the turtleneck. But only in places where no one will notice. Like here.

Sometimes I’ll make a bad decision just so I can use the word “cockamamie.”

Funny name: Tip Blewitt

What's better is that Tip is a dude.

People I can do without:

Anyone who posts pictures of their cat on their keyboard.
Anyone who begins a Facebook post with "Dear Los Angeles."
Or “Deer Beer.”

Pharmacy (adj) - displaying the characteristics of an Iowa whore

Or a cow.

“Next thing I knew…she was all up on me…screaming ‘Yeah!’”

“It’s ok, Mr. Usher. Show us on the doll.”

Do girls spend all day playing with their boobs? Because I do.

Seriously. I think I touch my upstairs junk way more than the average dude.

Ninjas don't have old stomping grounds. When they return to their former homes, they go back to their old sneaking in undetected and snapping everyone's necks like they're fucking twigs, but really they're only wussy little samurai fucktards grounds.

I spent the holidays hanging around the town I grew up in. It was kinda like browsing the new releases section at The Bible Store.

So, is like, the cross his peep?

Locust (n): past tense oral

I’m a twenty-something old fuck:

I got a little excited when I heard Wynton Marsalis wrote a symphony. +2 points
I had a “This crap all sounds the same” moment with autotuned fem-pop. +5 points

Mathematically speaking, yes. It does all sound the same. That’s the point of the program.

I liked my friend's FB status: Bach has the sickest bass lines. +7 points

I saw a windmill-shaped ad for a restaurant. This may not be the optimal shape for your message. When read clockwise, left to right, it said: "Its food at best."

I like sandwiches.

That's not a joke. They're fucking tasty.

Free million dollar idea for charity: Pink strap-ons for prostate cancer.

Because we have to do something for the dudes.

Some Americans are worried about how we would pay for universal health care. They say it would never work. It works elsewhere. Japan has universal health care. They also have used panty vending machines. In statistics, we call that a direct correlation.

Once you do the numbers, it's a bulletproof system. I think we should adopt it. You know how many sick fucks we have? We'd cover health care costs no problem. We may even have enough money left over for a war or two.

But wait a minute. Do the used panties come with an expiration date? Are they regulated by the USDA as a meat product? We need to work out the logistics.

Fellow nerds: "Working out the logistics" is our new euphemism.

It's also very accurate, considering that's probably what we'd end up doing instead of banging.

But if we did, there would be a lot of screaming “A:\Enter Insert.”

Or “An unexpected I/O error has occurred.”

Funny book name: Dixie Reckoning

People laugh when I say “I’m trying to maintain my girlish figure.” But I’m serious. If I don’t maintain my figure, I won’t be getting any girl ish.

Funny book sequel name: Dixie Wrecked

The main character dies in the end.

But really, all I want is someone who won’t get mad if I just happened to have eaten a tuna sandwich beforehand.

Breakfast nook (n): You sick fuck.

I like my coffee like I like my coffee.

When someone says “I love you,” I want to say “I love you back,” but I’m usually too afraid that they’re used to people not enunciating. I don’t want them to think I mean it like

Because I really do.

When you progress further into suburbia, the “speed humps” signs change to “speed Bumps,” because the housewives don’t want word to get out that they have vaginas. But I now live in the hood, where the signs simply read “undulations.” We don’t even try to hide it.

Even in the most romantic of situations, “Wanna undulate?” will usually get a negative reaction.

But if they then jump your bones, you know you have a keeper.

I live in an apartment and my neighbor has a girlfriend. But he’s a bit older, so every night I have to try to sleep while hearing them make really serious, in depth conversation.

And all grunting and moaning is followed by a muffled *sploosh*

You’ll have to excuse me. I just got out of the shower. Or as the French call it, “Le quoi?”

It’s ok. I actually have a friend going to school in France, so I have an unprejudiced, appreciative view of their culture.

Dude,

French people are fucking dirty. And I’ve been trying to go to that big museum they have, the Loo, but every time I ask, I end up getting shown the fucking toilet.

-E

That one actually goes out to my friends in the UK.

I miss you.

Come home.

The war is over.

Chapter d:

Biggest regrets:

Kanye West. I should’ve waterboarded him when I had the chance.
Not having the foresight in the fight against terrorism to have an inspirational theme song composed by Antoine Dodson
Not following in Clinton’s footsteps. I mean, Laura’s a total leather freak and all, but shit gets boring after a while, you know?

Look at her

That’s the face of someone who will make you do bad things.

“
me.”

“
me.”

“
me.”

“
me.”

“until I
.”

Unlike her husband, she looks just like her parents. She has Thom Yorke's eye and Chris Rock's neck.

A recent excerpt from my travel dairy:

Dear Dairy,

That gallon was sour. Please replace.

Kisses,

Bono

11-30-10
Went to Canada. Ate regular bacon. Feel cheated.

Though I was in a foreign country, the cars were just like the ones in America: Japanese. I was at least hoping for an occasional Canuckrolet.

I’m beyond apologizing. You’ve read this far, you know what you’re getting into.

I was given a ride by a Canadian who wasn't polite enough to use soap. Or maybe he was, but just couldn't reach all the little nooks and hiding places. For those who don't know what fat people smell is like, it's as if you're finding baked beans that have been trapped under a boob for a week and a half.

Apparently, the city I stayed in is a joke around Canada for having a lot of valley girl types.

Some friends wanted me to bring them back something. But then they got all pissed and wouldn’t accept their syphilis.

It appears that the stereotype is true. Canadians are polite to the point of psychosis. When honoring people, they will clap for someone who isn't there because they aren't there.

Maybe it isn’t courtesy. Maybe Canadians are like passive-aggressive Jedi.

And you don’t want to oh that’s ok not really anger a people armed with yaks.

They are a secure nation. Their airport has a white picket fence, sells gas cans on site and is just down the road from Ammo Coffee.

In a town named Bamf.

But despite their squeaky clean exterior, I’m sure there exists a seedy and probably quite hairy underbelly. Where else would they place “Pho Cuang,” “Lube World” and “Meat Market” right next to each other?

20th and J.

But I was a good ambassador. I did my best to educate my hosts on their neighbor’s culture.

“What is the current American slang?”
“Well, we say ‘Bootsy’ a lot. In fact, this isn't to get out, but that's soon going to be Diddy's next name.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I have the inside information, because I'm from California.”

As fun as CA was, I’m glad to be back in CA. Yes, they have the world’s largest wooden spoon shop (now featuring internet), but you have to come to the good ol’ you ess of eh to experience “Your Car is Your Cage Bear Tours.”

Because it worked so well in Jurassic Park.

I heard Rob Thomas the other day and thought, “…still?”

Hey. A pop culture reference. Like a real, grown-up blogger.

I think The Rocker should’ve been called Rock Tease. Like Shaq before him, I’m pining for Rainn Wilson’s foray into music.

Bearz, Beatz and Battlestar Galactica.

Have you ever had one of those really productive mornings where you think, “Ok. I’m done with wearing pants for the day.” I’ve done that before even putting them on.

Efficiency is environmentally friendly. So is sloth.

All of the pages on Wikipedia now have a banner at the top, which reads: “Please read: A thank you from the founder of Wikipedia.” I’ll save you the trouble of ignoring it and just tell you what it says:

Deer Wurld,

Thnx fore nou iye kan aford teh cheezburgers.

Luv,

Guye hoo gott ritch frum evryone else’z wurk

Burger (n): Wikisteak

I have to applaud the man’s balls.

I’ll pause for that image to sink in.

It took some serious co-goneus to have the world get involved in something that they didn’t ask for without being compensated for their efforts and then ask them to pay millions of dollars just because it exists.

Chapter

:

“I like sandwiches.”

I'm canceling my Comcast, which means I'll be without TV entirely. Ugly Betty, it's your fault. You make me want to stick my dick in my eye.

For your convenience, I made that one 140 characters.

I’m glad they finally changed the zodiac signs. That shit hasn’t been accurate for my entire life.

But still, you want to be careful how you disclose that information on Facebook.

My friend: Still a Sag.

Me: Yeah.

Untapped prequel potential:

To be followed by:

Max With A Hangnail

Max Finally Decides To Use The DMV's Website Instead Of Standing In Line Forever Only To Find That The One Function He Needs Is Down Until Further Notice. Fuck.

Because unsolicited prequels work best in trilogies.

Or perhaps, it could go the route of Indiana Jones, with a long-awaited sequel which answers all of those burning, unanswered questions:

Max On Prozac

The perfect Shia LeBeouf vehicle.

A personal appeal from Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg:

I’m rich, bitch!

I went to a café and the lady asked me if I wanted a hot Panini. I said, “Slow down. At least buy me dinner first.”

Oh, comedy.

I once dated a girl who used to talk all the time about her hope chest.

Hope chest (n): Bob Hope’s pectorals

Btw, that one isn’t mine. If you can tell me who said that, I’ll love you long time forever.

I really fucking hate when people try to say touching or profound things on a holiday because it’s a holiday.

In 2011, I want little more than to live with the knowledge of someone I lost in 2010.

And thank Jebus the Christmas music has stopped. That shit is good for only one thing: sneaking into the DJ booth at a rave and getting a couple thousand high teenagers to simultaneously freak the fuck out.

It’s Grammy season, so grab your senior citizen rifle.

These aren’t your grandma’s old people. Senior citizens today are quick. The generation that grew up with muscle cars now has muscle electric wheelchairs. And the little old lady from Pasadena now has a brand new, shiny, red, super stock Segway.

Antoine Dodson should get a Grammy for best inadvertent pop song about a rape and/or molestation by some idiot in the projects.

But it’ll probably lose to this:

Because after having read this, that’s probably how you feel.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 8

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 02:17:00 +0000

Aram’s laundry day Twitter: Underthings tumbling.

Sorry if this isn't good for you. I'm recovering from total hard drive failure.

Um.

Wait.

No. It’s not like that.

Ok, fuck. I admit it.

It’s ok, though.

http://www.news.com.au/technology/tablets/seven-inches-is-enough-rim-tells-jobs/story-fn5knrwy-1225941209049

RIM/Jobs is getting pretty nasty.

And not to go overboard with the excuses, but I was also poisoned.

No, fuck. I mean an angry midget slipped something into my drink that made me violently ill.

When does that ever happen? My life isn't a James Bond movie.

It's a James Brown movie.

I’m on the scene.

Ah, winter. I for one can’t wait for the cold weather because it makes the women wear all sorts of practical clothing. Don’t get me wrong. I like boobs. But when the jackets come out, talk of bikini season and insecurity over having multiple dimensions disappears. Insecurity isn’t sexy, nor is tangible bone definition. Sexy is me knowing I can throw you around a little without worrying about breaking you. Sexy is a woman chin deep in a turkey leg, not because poultry is less fattening than beef, but because it’s fucking delicious. And shared body heat is perhaps the best side effect of tryptophan and cold weather.

I also like being able to open beer with my nipples.

It’s hoodie weather.

Glee < That episode of Futurama where Fry makes a deal with the robot devil to get robot hands so he can write a symphony to win over Leila

More robots. Less autotune.

“Michael likes The Book Beaver on Facebook and suggests you like it too.”

That’s like a triple redundancy for a given.

I’d like to think these two towns are eternally locked in bitter, violent war.

Happy Valley (n): The female what-have-you

If you don’t know how to get there, follow the trail.

Do you spit or swallow when you throw up a little in your mouth?

This month’s installment of Not a Porn Site: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sergeant_Stubby

It's ok. It's a dog.

But look at the dog’s smile. Then look at the bulge in his uniform.

All of the pages on Wikipedia now have a banner at the top, which reads: “Please read: A personal appeal from the founder of Wikipedia.” I’ll save you the trouble of ignoring it and just tell you what it says:

Deer Wurld,

Plz mak uh movee abowt mee.

Kthnx,

Guye hoo gott ritch frum evryone else’z wurk

Apparently, the founder of Wikipedia is a cat.

With the fire he’s come under lately, he needs one hell of a witness protection program. His new name will be Julienned Sausage.

No one will ever know.

Unfortunately, his new name will put a damper on his otherwise promising career in Greasy French Information Superpirate Porn.

"Who ordered the Assange?" had a much nicer ring to it.

Here’s a new monthly segment, tentatively called: Note to self that makes it look like I’m getting a lot more than I really am.

Wed. 5:30 – Meet Jen for a taco downstairs.

Wed. 6:30 – Giggity.

Sorry, Diddy. But I’m not ready for that kind of long-term relationship.

Cause it’s Bad Boy for the length of my contract unless either party deems the relationship to be less than beneficial over the next several years. Bitches.

I love being in shape, but I don't think I'll ever join a gym. Pjs > spandex.

I lead a very introspective life. Perhaps the question I most ask myself is "Why am I still wearing pants?"

Those who know me know this is true. Pants are for pussys. Or dicks, depending upon what your jigglyquipment is.

I like making up words.

Bushlit.

Fairlegh Dickinson University in New Jersey offers a master’s degree in Homeland Security: 36 credits, 12 courses, teaching Weapons of Mass Destruction/Terrorism Awareness in a predominantly online setting.

Kermit: How did you learn to drive?
Fozzie: I took a correspondence course.

“Wocka wocka wocka” is the official sound effect for what that department is doing to us.

Dear Speaker John Boehner,

I learned in first grade that when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking.

Kisses,

Bono

You know what we need to combat that dickhead?

We need Lance Armstrong to donate a lot of blood.

No.

America, meat A. Weiner.

Codpiece (n): Prosthetic available from The Hair Club for Fish

It also sounds like a traditional Christmas decoration. So, next time you’re at a friend or relative’s house and they have a tree set up, point in its general direction and ask them if they put the codpiece on.

I’m taking a poll. You can email me their responses. Proceeds go toward hiring Julian Assange to find and bring to the internet a high-res image of Brendan Fraser from Encino Man.

I like Christmas because it makes people abandon their morals.

Now be a good little boy and/or girl, and I'll go throw some elbows to get you that expensive hunk of plastic and lead paint made for pennies by a child.

I sure hope Patty Larceny turned her life around. I mean, it can’t be easy breaking away from the expectations of that kind of family name, but she shouldn’t have gone hanging around some German lady named after a whale’s vagina.

That woman sure did get around.

If I ever get an anal polyp, I’ll name it Carmen Sandiego, just so I can ask the doctor that question.

I don’t own a microwave. I just make everything fresh. Or depending upon the day, funky fresh.

Don’t judge me.

Check out my new place:

People ask me if living by myself is lonely as fuck. It’s not. It’s lonely as making love.

Wow. That was like Mitch Hedberg without the Prozac.

It’s ok, though. I get out. In fact, I recently went up north and spent a weekend with two women in a little shack in the middle of the woods. We shared some laughs, had a lot to drink, and then we all huddled together and I introduced them to Battlestar Galactica.

No, that is not what I call my man piece. But I think I may need to adopt that.

Chess in the Castro: Queen takes man piece.

And everyone wins at least once.

What what

In the Batcave.

Btw, that removed image was an undoctored screenshot from Batman and Robin.

That was Mr. Popeye and Southside Johnny covering The Swallows.

I can’t make that shit up.

Some URLs tell a story: http://plans.boostmobile.com/shrinkage.aspx

It’s ok. It happens to a lot of cell users.

College basketball season always gets me a little excited. I don’t ever plan on watching it, but part of me always holds out hope for this:

Wheezing the Jews = Pauly Shore + Matisyahu 4 ever.

Those two need to wake up and realize that they were made for each other. And that it’s a sin to date outside of your religion.

Back when that film came out, I’m pretty sure Weezer were still playing Bar Mitzvahs.

Btw, the number one Google image result for “Pauly Shore Jew” is this:
http://image63.webshots.com/163/7/50/82/2286750820078724846nwnHAS_fs.jpg

Every year around Hanukkah, I get a mild case of German guilt. I don't have a lot of German in me, but I have enough that if it came down to it, I'd have to go to a camp.

But then I think of this and I feel much better:

The pancake recipe I like to use suggests that you pair it with a Harvey Wallbanger or maybe some coffee.

I have one thing to say to Harvey: Go around. I cannot open the wall. I don’t know if you have a doorknob on the other side, but over here there’s nothing. It's just flat. Like pancakes.

I briefly looked into writing web content as a way to make some extra whiskey money.

Btw, plz sendd sum. Rite meyow.

Kthnx.

They wanted me to write little how-to bits on subjects I’m generally not good at, and if each post didn’t have to be approved before it went up (and I got paid), I would’ve been all over that shit.

Q: How do I keep my windows from fogging up in the winter?

A: Stop fucking.

You can imagine my disappointment when that scene did not mark the beginning of a zombie apocalypse.

That would've made the film actually kinda watchable.

Q: How do I keep warm in the winter?

A: That’s what we call “natural selection.”

I kinda like bitter single Bono. I feel like I’m writing better. It’s like, you know how when the guy from Staind had a daughter and stopped taking all those drugs and it made me realize how shitty their music is?

Raise your hand if you’ve heard me say that joke before.

Ah, the internet.

AT&T stands for Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhh! Motherfucker!

And Telegraph, Inc.

Telegraph? Thank jebus. My TSP has been down for the longest time.

I don’t mind so much having a machine talk to me when I call tech support, it’s when it pretends to type and does the sound effect.

It’s not even a good sound effect. It sounds a bit like a computer masturbating.

I went to a tech high school, so I know that’s true.

Q: How do you bring the rate of population expansion under control?

A: Instead of a rattle and a pacifier, give each child a tricorder and a 7 sided die.

Guess who’s going to hell?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timbits

Apparently, Lou Gehrig isn’t the only one to have his own disease.

Q: Timbits are to doughnut balls as Lou Gehrig’s Disease is to…?

A: I’m going to hell.

When I die, I want to ask Jesus one thing:

Q: What’s wrong with being sexy?

To those of you who are offended at the notion of a sexy Jesus: The new testament is all about free love and the old testament makes repeated mention of bondage.

I learned about S&M from church when I was 6. And I recently found out that shit is real. I was cced on an email to “God Almighty.” His address is: almightygodxxx@(website).com

Give me your finger. My god. He’s like this.

I’ve done my job if I get at least one person to think “Now, Borat was funny. But Jesus fuck.”

Actually, it’s ok. God isn’t really like that. With all of the religions and prophets out there, he’s a bit of a deitywhore.

Christmas music sucks balls. Especially when it pretends to be pop.

It’s ok, NPR. I liked you when you weren’t trying to be cool. You don’t have to play The Kurt Elling Quartet featuring John McClaine.

Instead, I leave you with this:

Merry Christmas, bitches.

Love,

Team Aramrod

Novembeard update

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 06:19:00 +0000

30 days later

We're smooth.

Hold onto your butts.

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 19:34:00 +0000

Mine is the blog that says "Bad Motherfucker" on it.

Man. That is some real fucked up shit.

Bitch, be cool.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did I break your concentration?

If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.

I have had enough of these motherfuckin snakes on this motherfuckin plane.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 7

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 08:59:00 +0000

Featuring the best illustrator this side of reality.

Aram, if you were a woman, I'd stutter something that would make you lose interest.

http://blogs.amd.com/home/2010/09/22/getageek/

If only you knew the amount of work I do before I put pants on.

I was just invited to apply for a pre-med internship at UCD. Tempting, but I'll stay all up out those guts for now.

Haiku:

Theater gf.
She really liked to role play.
We never had sex.

She used to do my
eyebrows, until she left me
for greener pastures.

Sometimes, size does matter.

Don’t pity me. I’m doing alright.

+5 nerd king points

or +4 player points

The exchange rate can be a real bitch.

I'm a rather meek individual. I've been told to be more authoritative, and I am. In baby steps.

Who's in charge, Number Two?

Doctor I couldn’t be: Proctologist. Because that shit is hard.

Twice in 2 days, I ordered a sandwich that included pickles, which was then accompanied by a pickle. It should be illegal to serve sandwich toppings as sandwich sides. You wouldn’t order a sandwich with a side of bread. That’s way too desperate of a “fuck you” to Adkins dieters.

Sorry. I had a bit of a Seinfeld moment there.

I want a gazebo, just so I could say gazebo.

Gazebo.

Maybe all we need to get out of this economic funk is to rename all the shit people aren’t buying.

I can’t afford frozen yogurt, so I buy regular yogurt and keep my fridge on zero.

Frogyo (n): 1. Frozen Greek yogurt, 2. retro 90’s French rapper

Bonjo-yo-yo. It’s

Frog Strangler (n): Jaques the Ripper.

Watch yourself. He’ll pop a cork in dat ass.

Obviously.

I thought about making an animated gf,

but I think the Youtube format is much more fun. It allows for everyone’s favorite activity (and my new favorite euphemism, if you do it correctly): repetitive button pressing.

*Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle* *Poke* *Giggle*

Which is kinda what he was trying to do before Antoine busted in and laid the smack down.

Which is kinda what he was trying to do before Antoine busted in and...whoa. An endless loop of rape jokes. I’m going to the special hell.

Happy belated 70th, John Lennon. Truly one of the greats taken before his time. It leaves us to wonder: what would he be doing if he was still alive? Would he be realizing he married a nutjob, like Paul? Would he be doing whatever the hell Ringo is doing? Would he continue breeding wookees?

Would he still be on the forefront of musical evolution?

Ah, speculation. Fortunately for us, the apple doesn’t fall far.

We gonna find you.

I think I should click Action.

Funny name: Hugh Winkie

It sounds like the man has a very large Ackman.

According to the commercial, Pizza Hut is how you guarantee a second date. I’m never cooking for a woman again.

Someone recently got close to me and said I smelled like fresh band aid. That’s my new scent:

Doctor I couldn’t be: Otolaryngologist. Because it’s commonly referred to as an ENT, and there is no fucking E in that word.

Srsly.

Free writing advice: Learn how to fucking write.

“The victim came too” presents an entirely different situation that you’d intended.

The reader, however, had to wait until the book fell asleep before sneaking off by himself to quietly read his own writing in the bathroom.

I’m the number one Google result for “Suck it, Hemingway.”

Mama would be proud.

The recent tearjerker Brad Pitt film, Benjamin Button, was an adaptation of an old F. Scott Fitzgerald short story. Not to be outdone by his literary rival, Hemingway has a new short story to film adaptation:

Bring the Kleenex.

And the booze.

And the gender ambiguity.

That joke could totally backfire on me if that turns out to be true.

I mean, remember Ricky Martin?

Anyone?

If there’s one thing I like about pop music these days (+2 old fuck points), it’s that artists are really taking risks and pushing boundaries. Like this new single by Lil John Cage featuring Schrödinger’s Cat:

Wasn’t that awesome? Personally, I prefer the remix:

That’s baby makin’ music.

And now, this month’s installment of Not a Porn Site:
http://www.visitcrestedbutte.com/

Open the website, scroll down, look at the tabs and try not to giggle in public.

I wonder if Crested Butte is home to the Crested Black Macaque.

A bagel is just a socially-acceptable vehicle for eating cream cheese. As much as I’d like to open a package, jam a stick into it and carry it around like an ice cream bar, people would not look kindly upon that. And I don’t want to ruin my chances of maybe running for president one day.

I’m still waiting for string cream cheese.

Get on it, scientists. It’s time to validate your existence.

Maybe you can help solve this one:

Do cheerleaders actually like Chumbawamba?

And how is that a job?

Funny name: Bonar Menninger

Technology is a wonderful thing. We may not have flying cars or string cream cheese, but my boss has email on his cellphone. That allows for typos, such as “we have hopes” becoming “we have hoes” in a marketing context.

An icon from the '30s that hung around women with big bootys.

Because, like, women were bigger back then, what with the lack of dietary knowledge and the popular consensus that hips are sexy.

We should bring that back back.

Lower Slobbovia (n): 1) A fictional land near Antarctica invented by Al Capp, creator of Lil Abner. 2) Messy oral.

Lesbian (n) - Vagitarian

The Beef Curtain (n) – Iowa

I saw a sign waver that wasn’t advertizing a pizza place or a new housing development.

First of all, when did housing become an impulse buy?

For those of you playing the jigglybits home game,

If you said “2006,” you’re correct.

The sign waver I saw was advertising an urgent care center. That seems to be a much more appropriate and useful advertisement. If you happen to be leaking blood right now, this way.

It borders on a PSA. Whomever owns that sidewalk should be required to host such sign wavers for a small portion of the day.

I passed a Halliburton truck on the highway and slowed down so I wouldn’t get pulled over.

Halliburton is in my MS Word spell check dictionary and Funkadelic is not.

Things really were better during the Clinton administration.

Hoboken (n): 1. A fractured homeless man, 2. The latest, post-housing crash Ken doll

Fun for the whole family.

Dear Taggers,

Spraying graffiti on a train does not demonstrate how hardcore you are. If you want to impress me, use a roller. One long stripe covering an entire side as it passes.

Kisses,
Bono

A friend called me “the BOMB.” Help me. Is that still a compliment?

When our parents were kids (and yes, this is a recycled joke from last time), “the bomb” was a source of mortal danger. But by the ‘90s, we had gotten so complacent as a nation that such vernacular was able to creep into prominence. That shit became uncool shortly before 9-11, further solidifying the clairvoyance of rap.

I mean, how many of you have gotten all up in dat ass since 2001?

At that point, when our nation lost its collective terrorism cherry, bombs were once again regarded as sources of fear. Or if you’re George W., a means of not quite paying the bills.

I don’t get it. I mean, a war economy worked for Germany.

A black man named Arian just set Houston’s single game rushing record.

We will solve our nation’s energy crisis by hooking up a generator to the spinning graves of racists everywhere. They spin faster than the average dead people, due to their aerodynamic heads. As a result, we will have an energy surplus, which we will then sell to Saudi Arabia to reduce their dependence on foreign oil.

Due to this technological breakthrough, Arian will be the only football player with an Energy Star rating, and the wealthy owners of the Texans will get a tax cut for employing him.

Clean and renewable energy displacing oil and giving tax cuts to rich Texans. I’ve found a solution to our energy problem that absolutely no one can get mad over. Houston doesn’t even have a rival football team, they suck so bad.

Am I the only one who thinks commercials for 5 Hour Energy = 1950s ads for Mother’s Little Helpers?

Beaver Cleaver (n):

I had to use it twice. I totally dropped the ball last time.

Frogyo (v): 1. Bouncing an amphibian up and down from his tongue wrapped around your finger, you sick fuck. 2. Yo-yoing while attempting to cross the street.

FroG-Unit (n): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_units_of_measurement

FroG-Unit (trans. French): Oui-Tang Clan

Putuis don’t need no words.

Doctor I couldn’t be: Dre.

I can’t wait for his new record: AARNWA.

I want to age like Bill Cosby. He looks old as fuck, but he also looks like a reptile.

A friend of mine just got into a car crash. No one was hurt, thank physics.

But wait. Who invented physics?

Thank Newton.

I was hungry, and now I’m not hungry anymore, thank Newton.

Perhaps the best thing about being thin is that I don’t concern myself with 100 calorie snack packs. You’re still eating a pink Twinkie. It’s just smaller.

Last year, I was lucky enough to not get the swine flu.

Sorry. H1N1.

Miss!

Diseases tend to be more entertaining, not to mention more real, when they’re named after animals or board games. It makes sense that we’d be naturally inclined to personify invisible forces that we don’t fully understand and are therefore scared shitless of.

I wonder if they did the same thing in 1912, when the flu first broke. But that was a while ago, and it wasn’t as mutated as the swine flu or even the bird flu. They may have called it the protozoa flu.

+ 2 nerd points.

I know. It was a long way to go for not much reward. But you should be used to that by now.

On the bright side, this post now has at least one joke representing every decade for the past 100 years.

+7 nerd points.

History buff (n): Geriatric oral.

Add it to the list of things you can angrily call me.

Huh?

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 00:37:00 +0000

Wait. What?

Don't tell me.

...

Shit.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 6

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 20:12:00 +0000

Hello. My name is Bono. Aram likes to do drawrings.

I like to do drawlings.

If you’re looking for this to make sense, you’ve come to the wrong place.

“The highest purpose is to have no purpose at all. This puts one in accord with nature, in her manner of operation and all up in dat ass.”

Happy Holiday.

To those of you currently giving birth,

sometimes you can hate me before I even finish the joke.

September 19th is National Talk like a Pirate Day. For those who don’t speak the language, relax. I’m here to help.

Harpoon (n): Pirate girlybits

That’s all you need to know.

Putting a telescoping cylinder up against your face should be much hotter than it is.

I’ve been doing a lot of travelling and schmoozing with some big names in various VIP lounges.

Schmooze (v, Yiddish): To ooze schmutz.

You will never look at that word the same again.

I just returned from Washington. As much as I love it there, California has a great deal more pants-optional months.

If this isn’t really coherent, sorry. I’m still adjusting to the time change.

I could live in Seattle. I’d get a place with a skylight so I wouldn’t need electricity to experience irony.

The Skymall at the Salt Lake City airport sells a Swiss Army Book of Mormon.

I had an aisle seat and got a lot of ass.

Taken in Denver.

Mile High Club achieved.

Best thing heard over the airport PA: “Now paging passengers Porter and DefJam.”

Heir to the Def Jam fortune.

Or the Smuckers fortune.

I hope Def Jam broadcasts their specials in closed captioning.

I kinda want to carry on a bag that contains all of the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies, just to see what TSA does.

Current favorite Karaism: “I like when you dip things in chocolate.”

“Karaism” is a great word, because it simultaneously looks like a religion and a sexual event that lands you in the hospital. Few words can claim that.

I just had a Judaism.

“And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him…and clave the wood and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him.”

How can you tell me god doesn’t love gay people?

Funny-because-it-isn’t-a-stage name: Emily Hardoon

I’m the atheist who listens to Journey.

Just kidding. They fucking suck.

Sean Lennon look-alike contest:

Plastics secrete estrogen simulators. John Lennon knew something the rest of us didn’t.

I’m still waiting for Jay Z to collaborate with Christopher Lloyd

Is my Linkin Park shirt vintage yet?

I met an old lady with the last name Kronick. She isn't a Dre fan.

But she does smoke a lot. It is California, after all.

I found a gray hair, and I’m keeping it.

+2 Old Fuck points

I’m prone to making bad decisions. One of them involved dating someone who used to pluck out my gray hairs. She would also do my eyebrows.

No. She would pluck them.

I've been informed that a group of people wearing wheelchairs is suing Chipotle because the work station counter is too high. They can't see the people make their burritos, therefore denying them the complete Chipotle experience.

They should also sue boobs.

Or just wait a while.

Funny street name: Cougar Gap

I took a pen into Staples to ask the clerk why I couldn’t get it to work.

+8 Old Fuck points

I saw an oil painting of the ocean. Or it may have been a photograph.

I set my computer up in front of a window and set my desktop background as the view from that window so I won’t miss anything by looking down.

My feng shui is performance art. And my audience is me.

I call it, “Windows.”

That shit’s my jam. I have it as my ringtone.

Wheel of Fortune, Before and After: Cockringtone.

Free million dollar idea, btw.

This one will be in more of a traditional joke format to make it easier for you to steal:

What's the female equivalent of a cock ring?

Boxing ring.

I think I have a pigeon living above my window. Trying to analyze the turd.

Words that look similar in your peripheral vision (or unsuccessful business names):

Baptist Rapist
Dysentary Dentistry
Typo Lypo

K, so that last one didn’t quite work. But I think I have the right to the word “Lypo” as long as serious writers are using the word “lite.”

And “k.”

I read a lot of shitty books, but even they have their bright moments:

“Being the older sister of 5 brothers, I am an expert on boy-stink.”

“…in the form of God, Jesus, Santa Claus and country.”

“It began to cause a lot of serious injuries by falling cows.”

All three are non-fiction, btw.

They also have their shitty moments, like a chapter entitled “Cats and more cats.”

The title is efficient, though. I’ll give it that. In 4 words, I know both what it’s all about and that I don’t want to read it.

Hemingway was famous for his 6 word flash fiction, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Perhaps I’ll be famous for my 2 word flash fiction, “Total sideboob.”

This is a scholarly blog, so let’s analyze the mechanics. Those two words provide or imply: a well-drawn character with age, voice, desires and perhaps gender (at least sexual orientation). There is action (when you’re that age, that’s action), tension and release (but that comes later. I go one step further to imply a sequel story with no words, but maybe a moan at the end). Even the sentence that orients us to the exercise itself ends up adding to the story and redefining the genre. I may have just found the two most powerful words in the English language.

Suck it, Hemingway.

Funny name: Tony Locoboni

I could write a book: Names That Will Get Your Kid’s Ass Kicked. But no one would publish that kind of thing. I’d end up having to self-publish, and the only one who would buy it would be my mother.

Current mood: Thunderstruck.

Remember Myspace?

Remember your Myspace password?

“Blogosphere” is misleading. Mine is a rectangle.

Real news story:

12:00 AM

100 percent chance of showers

Avery Willett uses an umbrella to protect herself from her brother, Hunter, who was armed with a garden hose while playing Tuesday with friend Jackson Lee in a kiddie pool at their home in Waterville.

Aren’t we at war?

Yes, we still are. Pay attention.

Debriefing (v): A precursor to what the army does to you

Our generation is much different from that of our parents. To them, “Nom” represents something dangerous. To us, it represents something delicious.

I love a good language barrier. Here are a few recent cases:

We’ve been having a 24 day relationship for 2 years by now.
I pretend to make money. A lot of it.

People should give me money so I could become a philanthropist. My charities would include

Casiotones for Ice Cream Truck Drivers
Cookie Monster Eyes for the Blind

And no, I won’t be one of those douchebag comics who would list

Bluetooths for the homeless

They’d be happy just to have regular teeth.

Perhaps the other end of the tooth fairy transaction is some kind of government subsidized bio recycling program. As noble as that would be, it wouldn’t help the homeless to better assimilate into society. People with large gums and small teeth weird me the fuck out.

I’m sorry kids, but times are tough, and I just don’t see the tooth family having a place in Obamacare.

With the economy in shambles and people not buying anything, we just need to find something that’ll sell like hotcakes. Like hotcakes. Unfortunately, the monopoly on that lies in the hands of IHOP, an international company. We need to take that shit back. Start the National House of Pancakes. Inside, we will serve one type of pancakes: blueberries in one corner and strawberries and whipped cream on the rest. Fucking American pancakes. We will have Prince as our spokesman, but he will change his name to Vice President, or maybe even Congressman. He will make pancakes sexy and we will buy even more of them. The downward spiral is no more, because an upward spiral is how you stack pancakes.

That, or the bankers could just stop stealing from us.

Pay attention.

You may wonder how I can sleep at night after writing stuff like this. It’s quite easy, actually. I remain comforted knowing that somewhere there exists a porno named Sandra’s Bullocks.

I’d like to be superstitious. It sounds like fun. But whenever I try to be superstitious, it never turns out like I want. As a result, I am superstitiously not superstitious.

Superstitious.

Beatlejuice Beatlejuice Beatlejuice.

I took up religion just for the sects.

Hug the devil.

I went to a tiki bar and got lei’d. It was nice. I hadn’t been lei’d in a while. I think it was before the last time I got fucked.

And now, this month’s installment of Not a Porn Site:
http://www.wjzm.com/localprograms/theboneshow.php

You can’t make this stiff up.

(Freudian typo)

To all of my loyal botanical bromatologist readers: I need help.

Is a gherkin pickle veal? I need to know whether or not to feel offended.

The Toadies have a new album.

You know how when you’re taking a pee,

which is an erroneous term. You’re really leaving pee behind. If you were taking pee, I wouldn’t want to associate with you. Or I’d be paying you a lot of money because my ass doesn’t have medical insurance.

and you’re getting to the end, almost when you have to squeeze, and it starts to sound like R2D2?

I’m proposing that we all start calling that “robot pee.”

Remind me never to see a shrink. This shit is too much fun to fix.

G-20

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 06:05:00 +0000

Bajingo!

This jigglybit is a bit shorter. I don’t want any of you women getting a false sense of reality.

Or you men.

Dartmouth (n): 1) The condition of having a pointed tongue. 2) The condition of having herpes

It also sounds like a paranormal medical condition in which your jaw takes off running. Kinda like in Victorian times when strong, independent women were diagnosed with a wandering va jay jay. I believe the cure was to burn them.

History is sexy.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 5

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:26:00 +0000

vs. Aram Fresh

In an effort to continue the idea of having continuity in posts that appear upwards of a month apart:

Poking fun at clergy is not the main reason I’m going to hell. But clergy poking for fun is why they’re going to hell.

I’m getting enough mileage out of that comparison that I decided to make things easier for us and consolidate.

Funny name: Mrs. Slutzki

An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but a

a day means you have to get a quick shot.

If apples keep away doctors, what brings the nurses?

Disease. They are medical professionals, after all.

Cheesestick (n): the result of too many Pink Ladies.

Ah, Kanye.

Cheese sandwich (n): The female cheesestick

(n):

In an attempt to have a real relationship with this girl I was banging, I set aside a night for us to play Scrabble, drink tea and just enjoy each other’s company. She set up the board and I pulled my 7 pieces, careful not to let her see what I could lay down: AVAGINA.

Brown chicken, brown cow.

It’s funny how implied bestiality is more socially acceptable than the word fuck.

Those who pay attention to punctuation may notice that what they’re reading is textual intercourse.

Go back and look. I’ll wait.

Or perhaps, considering that I’m the only one writing (unsolicited, I might add), you’re really witnessing word self-gratification.

My technique is refined.

As an active nerd, I want an animated gf.

I’m a sentimental guy, one who appreciates a moment of real connection with someone special, usually with good background music that helps us openly express our feelings.

Hold me.

Whoa. I thought a bird just ran into my window, but it really just delivered the largest avian crap I’ve ever seen.

I have to tweet this.

Follow Aram’s Twitter so you can keep up to date on his laundry:

Laundromat. It’s a pants party, and if you’re not downstairs, you’re not invited.
It’s true what they say. The penis mightier.
Though my diet hasn’t changed, I’ve been passing gas authoritatively over the past four days. Should I call the doctor?

I’d like to post a door on my Facebook wall @thinking-how-the-hell-I’m-going-to-get-outside-the-box

Gay men think outside the box.

I think it’s necessary to capitalize “Facebook.” Otherwise, it becomes real.

facebook (n): Colonel Angus

Colonel Angus (translation: Spanish): Papi Chow

How many of you are on facebook right now?

@multitasking

Cockroaches (n): The final stage of crabs.

It’s no coincidence “exterminators” so closely follows “escort services” in the phone book.

Wait. The phone what? You’re not making sense.
Wait. You’re saying…that Mexican song I used to sing as a kid…

Regina (v) – Female sex change reversal

I eat a lot of rice, and if you eat rice, so do you. No one eats just one rouse. You have to eat a lot of them for anything to happen. It’s the most inefficient food ever. But fucking delicious.

A mamosa would be champagne and milk.

Milk is an excellent appetite suppressant. And quite better for you than cigarettes. Next time you’re at the bar, skip the middleman and have a Caucasian.

Again, shit I’m not getting paid to think of.

And thankfully, shit Aram isn’t getting paid to draw.

I went from a miserable 9-5 to a glorious 7(EST)-5(PST) that makes very little money. Living the dream.

Pizza and beer for breakfast in bed in my underwear, working.

There’s a triathlon on. Which mean’s there’s a quadrathlon.

I sure hope they’re able to athlon. They’re trying awful hard.

The perfect quadrathlon would be like a triathlon, but they have to play badminton afterward. By itself, that game doesn’t require much coordination or strength. But after all that swimming and whatnot, it would be a true test of human endurance.

Sean Taro Ono Lennon Belushi

What does everyone say when Marilyn Monroe walks into a bar?

“Holy crap! It’s Marilyn Monroe! Isn’t she dead? Am I freaking out, man?”

Wrong. The correct answer is:

“NORMA!”

If heaven exists, it’s a bar with Marilyn Monroe, Cliff Burton and Sam Malone (the DJ on KHMX Houston Radio, but he has to die first).

Once you record a laugh track, that shit is forever. It can be used over and over again, which is why I have never tried out to be on one. I wouldn’t like to contribute to people thinking that The King of Queens is funny.

I like Cheers, because they tell you right in the beginning that it is filmed in front of a live, studio audience that has been bribed with free cokes and maybe even beverages.

It was the 80’s, after all.

I wonder if some of those old school fuckheads who refused to laugh at Ellen know that the chuckles they did give are now being used in any sitcom on network TV.

Free million dollar idea: microwave ringtones.

Or at least a microwave with a volume control, because jesus fuck.

Dairy products are almost reason enough to believe in a god. I have therefore determined that the lagging number of teens and young adults attending church is directly attributed to a lack of sufficient snack food. That is the period in your life in which you are usually growing the most and eating in a correlated amount. That is also the period in your life in which you are growing the most and smoking in a correlated amount. And if you’ve had enough hits that you start to see Jesus, then you’re going to want some cheese and crackers. Or nachos, depending upon your denomination.

I knew a pothead who is now a Christian minister, which makes no sense. Don’t potheads usually love themselves?

Rastafarian preachers are men of the hemp.

I think Christians’ decision to name their clergy “Pastor” is a big middle finger toward the Jews who cannot enjoy proper Mexican food.

That’s fucked up, people. You aren’t practicing your message of peace, love and pork products.

Pork products (n): Children

Funny name: George R Weiner

Funnier name: George, R Weiner

Just want to make you comma.

One picture I failed to take was of: G Spot Dog Kennel for trucks.

Animal husbandry (v):

I just googled Freud.

No, no, no. Barry Dick.

Barry! Barry! Barry!

It’s July, my roommate works for mosquito control, and if I really wanted to, I could scare the fuck out of you right now.

Just make sure you cover up, stay inside around dusk and spray yourselves with plenty of

Heidi. What’s your hetero life mate’s name?

Describe the female cast of Baywatch.

I had to straight up move before I found matches to some of my socks. Only some, though. The rest are in Narnia. And even though I usually wear pants, I can't mis-match my socks. No one else would notice, but it would be like lying to myself. That problem stems from my childhood, when all of my tube socks matched, except for the stripes at the top. And I didn’t have duplicates of any of the colors, partly because my parents didn’t stick to any one brand. So, if I had two pair of dark blues, they would be different shades. Once or twice, I actually did have two pair where the color matched, but one had two stripes while the other had three. Or the width of the stripes varied.

Parents take note: You can fuck up your kid with your choice of socks.

I want to kidnap my dad and take him skydiving, just to see what sorts of words he comes up with.

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 07:22:00 +0000

You won't find that on Shit My Dad Says.

Happy Father's Day.

I’m sorry if you don’t get that one, but I refuse to use footnotes. The joke is so far inside, you’d better hope it’s wearing a rubber.

It is, btw. I don’t bare-nyuck.

I'm not quite sure what that means, but I think I need to go take a shower.

I saw an ad that said, “Give your dad a Droid for Father’s Day.” Um, no. Bad idea. He isn’t comfortable with texting, let alone all of the various what-have-you. And if he did get a Droid, he’d probably name it R2. No. Fuck that. I get to name mine R2.

It would certainly help for when I lose the thing.

+4 Nerd Points. And if you got that, you can have 3 of them.

The Jigglybits Illustrated vol. 4

noreply@blogger.com (The Jigglybits) — Sun, 09 May 2010 08:26:00 +0000

Includes Aram Fresh. Never Aram Frozen.

Sorry for leaving off on a cliffhanger last time. Contrary to popular belief, your family was not started when Uncle Fester farted. Uncle Fester had been secretly banging Morticia the entire time (it’s no coincidence Pugsley looks just like him). But seeing how Fester comes from her side of the family, they all in fact came out retarded.

Those wacky Adamses.

Adams. Adams. 5’7” weighed about 200.

I heard that, motherfucker couldn’t see his dick.

Someone called me “a sarcastic scatter-brained asshole.”

!

@:D

(_!_)

:>()<

(That one's a penguin).

I appreciate back-handed compliments almost as much as front-handed insults.

A friend asked me what she should wear for going on the radio.

Wait a minute.

WTF do you wear to go on the radio?

Saliva has a greatest hits cd. It’s a single.

I love sneezing at the resonant frequency of my guitar. It’s amusing. Like farting on a snare drum.

One of my band mates is a girl I call “Puffy,” for obvious reasons. She then felt charged to come up with a nickname for me and asked for suggestions.

“How about Bono?”

She totally said yes.

How come a rapper hasn’t used this as a euphemism yet?

It recently came to my attention that death needn’t get in the way of collaboration.

Lil John Lennon says, “End the war, bitches.”

Although I’m bummed at having to add “Funkadelic” to my spell check dictionary, I’m thrilled that it still offers the correction “star bucks.”

A grown ass woman – “What makes the water hot?”

I don’t like the Starbucks cup because when the java jacket

which is a stupid term. I think we should adopt something else, like coffee muff.

when the muff starts to slip off, which will inevitably happen, no matter how hard I jam it up in there, I’m not quite sure for a split second whether it’s the muff slipping down or the lid popping off.

Coffee is so fucking dirty. Ask those who pick it.

So, I try to avoid getting my coffee “to go” because most often I don’t go far. It seems like a waste. I may walk a few paces and then sit down to enjoy my coffee while it’s still hot. At that point, I am not going anywhere. And then I start to feel like a failure, one more useless prick with an English degree sitting in a coffee shop with a paper cup in my hand like I’m fucking Magellan, when the only “to going” I’m about to do involves carrying the cup to join its brethren in the trash can on my way out.

Yet, it’s not the gluttony of our natural resources or the acceleration of global warming that keeps me from using a paper cup, it’s the feeling of impending doom in the form of scalding my pinky when I experience muff slippage. I don’t like that uncertainty. When I put something in a cup, I want to make sure the motherfucker will stay in there until I am ready to tip it up between my lips and let gravity work its magic. I do not take caffeine through my hand.

I very much prefer drinking from a ceramic cup. In fact, I may be the only straight man under 30 on the planet who has a collection of antique teacups from around the world. And because refusing to put liquid in a vessel is like slapping it in the face, I make it a point to use them fairly regularly. Those cups have traveled thousands of miles, survived revolutions and changed hands too many times to sit unused. And just like how vinyl sounds better and real books smell better, coffee and tea from an antique cup tastes much better. Kind of like opium money. And quite possibly lead paint.

I like drinking white tea, even though green tea tastes better. White tea is the tea equivalent of veal, and I like the idea of maybe getting someone pissed off at a leaf.

Tea and toast are quite good together. Whomever invented that combination should find the genius who first paired potatoes and tomatoes and do battle. Tasty, tasty battle.

Tea and toast would win because although potatoes would bruise pretty badly, tea would scald the fuck out of you. Tomatoes would just be annoying. And toast delicious.

This is the kind of shit I don’t get paid to think of.

Rooibos is delicious, but unfortunately named.

“Hey, Phil. You remember Chastity from history class?”
“You kidding? Bitch left me with a raging case of Rooibos.”

This is where I openly give the finger to every douchebag who has ever used the “I like my women like I like my coffee” line.

Immediately after handing over my phone to the repairman, I saw what may be the world’s best license plate:

+

=

“JZNTIME.”

That’s when “mashup” doesn’t refer to mixing songs together.

Having euphemisms for sex is really fucking stupid, considering it is one of the most common compulsory actions among life forms, plants included.

Still, it sure is fun. The euphemisms, too. Here’s a new one for you:

What did the brown chicken say to the brown cow?
Let’s fuck.

I bought some generic brand raisins, and the box has a drawing of some black raisins in front of some green grapes. I guess the 39 cents I saved was in botanical accuracy.

It’s tax time.

Right?

…

And while everyone is giggling over “Are you blind” or whether or not you expect to be a widower next year, I’m contemplating checking the “Ottoman Turkish Empire Settlement Payment” box.

Investing in clothing means letting people laugh at your acid-wash wearing ass for about 20 years.

Yes, I’m still bringing back on old jokes you’ve probably forgotten about.

A sharpie is the manliest possible highlighter.

“What’s that intoxicating scent you’re wearing?”
“Chorizo.”
“Come to Papi.”

The smell of a bright summer day always makes me nostalgic for fabric softener.

Perhaps boogers have one of the strongest odors ever, but we’re just used to it.

For those of you who don’t think our humor is intelligent:

It's not high-brow or low-brow. It's manic-depressive-brow.

The name, “Tiff,” sounds like a speech impediment. Or an uncompressed image file.

First Kierkegaard, then Nordenbrock. Friends, don’t make me wait till your funeral to learn your embarrassing middle names.

One recently deceased friend shows up on facebook every time I log on. Today, under his photo read “Reconnect with him.” My peripheral vision read “Resurrect him.”

I do. Whenever I cook with chevre, I sing “The Love Goat,” if only in my head.

I miss you, buddy.

Funny ninja name: Mitsu Miyagi

I made ninja salsa. It starts out smooth and rather refreshing, but then it bites when it goes down.

Sometimes I don’t even have to finish the joke.

FEEED MYYYYYYYYYYY

GERTRUDE STEIIIIIIIN!

Gertrude Stein – “This Alice Cooper you speak of. Is she hot?”

HUNGRY FOR LOVE AND IT’S READING TIME!

If you haven’t gathered, the aim of this blog is to provide a service to the female population. I’m reducing your sea by one fish. You’re welcome.

And if you’re the kind who gets the slightest bit turned on when someone says “put the punctuation inside the quotation,” then you’ve found your fish.

Dear Katy Perry,

I too use cherry Chapstick. And no, you may not have any.

Kisses,
Bono

A Scottish radical feminist burns other people’s bras.

You know. Because they cost money, and stuff. And we’re cheap.

Look! Shiny object!

Team Player

Though it’s not exactly nerdxcore material, you have to admit, that shit is perfect for a T-Shirt.

I like the Blackberry because it comes with a holster that easily clips to my pajamas.

Working from home is fucking great. Especially now, because it’s gearing up to be summer, and I’m saving a ton of money on deodorant.

How do people in Mississippi keep time?

“One us. Fuck. Too short. This clock’s gonna be fast.”

It’s that famous Southern punctuality.

This has become a bit of a tradition every year since I first jiggled:

Happy Mother’s Day, Shaft.

I’ll translate the rest of the blog for my Spanish-speaking readers:

Juevos Benedict.

Every once in a while, something from a blog long past will become relevant in international media:

=

Cuando Benedict y amigos estan tocando los juevos de niños, the Lutheran Church just abolished all anti-gay policies.

Oh, yeah.

You know what that means.

Two girls.

One chalice.

Seriously, though. Bravo. It took you motherfuckers long enough.

For those of you playing The Jigglybits home game

Lutheran clergymen are allowed to marry and have families, making them honest to God motherfuckers.

That kind of comment is not the biggest reason why I’m going to hell.

Few bumper stickers are as effective as the Make A Wish star on a slow-moving vehicle.

You laughed. I’ll keep a seat warm for you.