The Worst Things For Sale

The new SimCity came out yesterday. But you have to connect to the publisher’s servers to play it… and they’re not working at all. Read the 300+ hilariously-angry, chest-thumping one-star reviews to see just how mad people get about video games.

Comic Sans is the world’s best font. So it’s great that someone has created templates to use with your router, so that you can make wooden Comic Sans signs. Of course (as you can see above) it includes an apostrophe, for all your extra-apostrophe’s need’s. Engrave you’re sine with Comic San’s.

Is the vagina going insane or is the insanity vaginal? The book “Vagina Insanity” answers the question no one asked. Here’s an excerpt:

My hand reached down her floss and then felt a soft touch of her labia majora while creeping through her pubic symphysis. From the back, I was still able to see her butt crack intoxicating me to have action gagnée. Her entire physic getting crammed up, was enticing me to give her Aussie kiss. She had a rampant drive of sex and her dazzling beauty was giving me the pre-penetrating feel of ecstasy and orgasm.

Someone typed these words (and thousands more – click through to the “Look Inside” if you dare) and then looked at it and thought “Fuck yeah, this is some true vagina insanity. I have to release this beast.”

The punchline to all of this: The author owns a company purporting to teach English.

Parking crooked, or parking in two spaces, or obstructing someone’s driveway when you park are clear violations of the social order. But answering that by maliciously defacing someone’s private property is probably not the best way to prove you have the moral high ground.

Quite possibly the most appalling item I’ve posted here so far. From a company called Solid Gold Bomb.

I got one of these full-body spandex suits once, years ago. I thought it would be funny. But it was horrible. It goes all the way up your asscrack and forms an incredibly detailed contour around your genitals. You start sweating immediately and now you’re trapped in a wet balloon. You’re just a fat wet balloon and everyone can see your hog. I don’t know how humanity made it through the 1980s.

“Hey, I smell bacon… did you have bacon for breakfast?” your boss asks, leaning into your cubicle.

“I suppose you could say that,” you reply, winking.

As your boss turns to leave, you continue. “Haha, no, I was jacking off with Bacon Lube.”