MMM 387: The Temple of Kukulcan

Reminder: Secret santa targets go out tonight after 7pm. If you want in, get in now.

The Werdpuss Editor lost all my content the first time I hit publish and I don’t have time to do it again.  Outer layer built in ~900 AD, 3 layers that we know of, evidence of animal and human sacrifices on site, yada yada go read wikipedia.

Thorsday Substitute Poat

Since Jimbro is off in the mountains receiving a heavy load from some shady contractor, I’ve agreed to put up a poat.  The old one was smelling worse than your mom after Fleet Week.  We haven’t had a rip-roaring, honest-to-God hurt feelings fight on this blog in far too long, so let’s talk about music.

So, I’m about two weeks out from leaving my job, and by the time you read this I will hopefully have an offer for a new job outside of California.  Even if I don’t, I’m still leaving this state.  And that means one thing… ROADTRIP!  For the past nine months I’ve driven 45-75 minutes each way up to Santa Barbara each day for work.  Obviously, spending that much time on the road means listening to the radio a lot.  Thank the gods for Pandora, and Youtube on my phone.  So I thought I’d put together a list of some of my favorite songs to listen to while driving.  I decided to limit it to ten songs, about what I used to burn on a CD before a long road-trip.  Obviously there are others, but if I had to pick ten to listen to for a couple of hours in parts of the country where the only radio stations are messican polka and the baptist station... the mixture below would be my top choice. Yeah, some of them are covers, but they’re better than the originals for keeping me awake and focused while on the road.

In Which Sean Holds Himself Up to Ridicule

You know, I used to absolutely hate poetry.  Hated reading it, hated writing it, just generally hated everything about it.  I was a prose guy, and I thought there was something silly and frivolous about scribbling thoughts into stanzas and trying to get them to scan and rhyme and all that crap.

Then, something changed.  Maybe it was getting sober, though I have no idea why that would have any bearing on this.  But over the past few years, I’ve found that there are certain instances where I can best put my thoughts in order by taking up quill and scroll and just churning out some of the old doggerel.

Before we go any further, let’s just get this out of the way here and now:

 

Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that (yeah), allow me if you will to emote all over you below:

BBF

Hello  brave puppers, and welcome aboard Big Boob Friday.

 

 

 

 

Your model for today is a Cosplayer from Ft. Worth, TX. Please sit back and welcome Miss Bunny Ayumi!

 

Medium Boob Friday

Hello tucklovers. This week, we pause from our admiration of large breasted women (trigger!) and instead, shift our gaze to those C players–the gals in the middle of the bell curve. Today’s model is, er, a model who has mastered the, ‘I’m not sure why I’m here pose.’ Please give a warm welcome to Sarah McDaniel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10/10, would smash.

But before we get to the boobs, please to be enjoying a little music from Car in’s favorite band. I wrote this song whilst deep in the woods hunting for Cyn. I was looking and looking and looking and looking…

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A Tear

 

 

 

 

 

 

BBF

Hello hair-pullers, and welcome to Big Boob Friday.

Did you know this is Rob Schneider’s daughter?  He must be very proud.

Your model is a food writer, journalist and broadcaster known for her popular cooking and lifestyle shows on British television.  She was born January 6th, 1960 into the upper class family of Nigel Lawson (now Baron Lawson of Blaby) a Conservative politician who was Chancellor of the Exchequer under Margaret Thatcher’s cabinet.  She stands 5’7″ tall, sports some 32G sized jumper pads and weighs in around 10.5 stone. Please stop trying to be someone else and say hello to Ms. Nigella Lawson.

Who Dat? Not My Preznit!

As I’m sure you are all aware president Obama is set to make his big comeback to the US and public life after pretending to write his memoirs on a mega yacht with Oprah and Tom Hanks (WILSON!!!!!!!). Here’s an excerpt of his first draft that will be later turned into dramatic prose by a little known college professor and spontaneous combustion enthusiast. 

Chapter 1

Barack’s version: Sat down to watch a rerun of SportCenter at 11 after calling SlowJoe and a quick workout with Mooch. Fell asleep. Woke up during the nooner of SC just in time to see Venus Williams winning some white shit tourney for the third time. Man, what an ass. I’d like to put a Mike Tyson mask on her and lay into them hindquarters. Trump sucks! San Demus High School rules!

Ayers version: Five Nine score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.

Speaking of C**ts

So funny I bust my felt wiiiiiiddddeee open.

Sean’s Delicious Calamari

You people make me sick. We spent an entire day talking about turtlenecks when there are very real and important things going on in the world!

1. Some chick no one has ever heard of was asked not to be rude by the guy whose job is to chastise rude people.

2. Some homeless lady was the butt of a mild joke about her hair which was racist and also anti-domicileless.

3. A cranky alcoholic colicky baby who is running for president in 2020 mentioned the chick no one had ever heard about and the homeless lady.

4. Car in called me twice just to talk.

Ok fine, I made that last one up but the rest are 100% real stories that were covered wall to wall by the very serious gossip columnists we pretend are reporters and journalists. And you trogdilytes trogdelites trogderplites losers decided to make the funneh about foreskin.

Shame!