two german ladies try to bring their dead husband/father on board on a plane to Berlin by sticking him in a wheelchair and putting sunglasses on him. They then act surprised when he doesn’t wake up to actually walk through security.

“They would think that for 24 hours we would carry a dead person? This is ridiculous. He was moving, he was breathing. Eight people saw him…A dead person you cannot carry to Germany, there are too many people checking and security. How can you bring a dead person to Germany?”

read the full story here.

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you know how it’s impossible to carry a food tray and still look cool? well, today i discovered that it’s also impossible to carry a plastic gas can on the street and not look like a complete loser and failure.

what’s more embarrassing is that when my car wouldn’t start this morning, i immediately thought it must be the fact that i’m 500 miles overdue for an oil change. the fact that i haven’t put gas in my car in over a week didn’t even occur to me.

granted, my gas gauge is a little wonky so i have to estimate a bit, but nonetheless, a person who lets their gas dwindle to fumes and then acts puzzled when their car doesn’t start is to me just as much of a failure as someone who goes into work and forgets that they left their child in the car all day.

ok, ok, so being a loser or a complete failure is one thing, hopefully a private thing. but when you’re at a gas station and inserting a gas nozzle into a red plastic can instead of a gas tank, when you’re standing there carless in a spot where a car should be, you have learned a very public shame. and then, when you’ve dispensed your two gallons and you’re walking to your car past a bunch of people in their responsibly-fueled cars and you’re holding the bright red proof of your failure and negligence, there is absolutely no way to make yourself seem even the slightest bit less of the raging loser you so obviously, irrefutably are.

this is what i learned today on an otherwise gorgeous day in LA: gas tanks have a limit, but humiliation can be bottomless.

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this was filmed in the bizarro parallel world where i killed myself at age 5:

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: japan, you are so fucked up sometimes.

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some of you may not know that i LOVE sarah haskins and the work she did with “Target Women” on Current TV’s Infomania, so let me just make it really clear:

I LOVE SARAH HASKINS. she’s smart, funny, and she looks great in bike shorts. she’s also now just released a new short film called DILF, written by and starring Haskins and Emily Halpern whose roommate relationship sours when Haskins starts sleeping with Halpern’s dad.

and if you haven’t seen them already, check out Target Women episodes on cleaning supplies, yogurt, and feeding your fucking family. but don’t stop there, watch them all!!

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tell him he’s not a single lady. watch emotional scars develop before your eyes. post them on youtube.

via thedailywhat

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what better way to thumb your nose at the economy than by buying this Balmain “stylishly disheveled” t-shirt for $1,625? alternately, what better way to thumb your nose at Balmain than by buying one of my t-shirts that i’ve owned since high school for $16.25?

the fact that this is not a joke makes me think that the economy is quite possibly improving. either that or balmain is just flagrantly out of touch. either way, i think i’ll stick to shredding my own $15 t-shirts, for now.

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this site is transfixing. make and then upload your own animated gif to contribute.

via swissmiss

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prayer prank

haha! it’s the old dig-a-hole-behind-the-prostrate prank! oh, rahim and ahmed, you incorrigible so-and-so’s!

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last night i made the most awesome cocktails for my most awesome friends: lavender orange sparklers!

it’s super easy: just a glass of prosecco with a ‘lil bit of lavender orange syrup. the syrup part is easy; the not drinking 30 glasses is the hard part.

lavender orange syrup:

1/2 cup fresh lavender

1 cup lavender water

1.5 cups sugar

2 tablespoons honey

1 teaspoon orange zest

first, make the lavender water by steeping 1/4 cup of lavender in boiled water. let sit for 10 minutes then pour through sieve to remove lavender buds. in a pan, combine the lavender water with sugar, honey, remaining lavender, and orange zest and let simmer til sugar is dissolved, about five minutes. remove from heat and pour through sieve to remove lavender. after it’s cooled, mix about 1 tsp with a dry sparkling wine, such as prosecco. drink until you cannot resist urge to dance naked to hoobastank.

also, when you run out of prosecco, try mixing the syrup with a vodka soda with an orange twist. let me know how it goes!

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bush pretty much sums up his foreign and domestic policies in one telling wipe:




despite his sanitation efforts, this video has gone viral. and there’s no one you can wipe yourself on this time to stop it, bush.

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hospitality!

get this shirt for $10, today only at shirt.woot. every other day, $872. you do the math!

designed by david soames and gavin james.

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while some teenagers simultaneously practiced their math, balancing and spatial reasoning skills, i was more interested in practicing my french kissing skills on doorknobs.

i always say, it’s good for youth to have hobbies.

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“Struggling with its immortality, a discarded plastic bag (voiced by Werner Herzog) ventures through the environmentally barren remains of America as it searches for its maker.” Video by Ramin Bahrani.

There really is little more calming than watching a plastic bag flutter in the wind.

In my dreams, i never completely fly; instead i just glide like this plastic bag, never really getting terribly high above the ground. So whenever i see a plastic bag gliding on the street it always feels vaguely surreal, like i’m seeing myself in a dream.

U 2? or TMI?

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according to their hard data and my shitty answers, it appears that every other woman on okcupid is a hell of a lot more awesome than me. compared to the preferences and answers of users just like me, i’m just a used up, frigid, co-dependent bitch who’s been around the block far too many times. and they remind me of this every time i log in.

thanks for the vote of confidence, ok cupid! i guess i’ll go back to reading Cat Fancy and sucking diet pepsi out of the cuff of my cardigan on a saturday night.





first of all, “more desiring of sex??” how do they know that? yeah, ok, maybe if they put me and her in a room with an effeminate poetry editor, she might wet her floral Hanes a drop more, but that doesn’t make me a prude; that makes me sentient!




and “more independent??” what?? man, i’m so independent sometimes my date doesn’t even know i exist! i’m so independent that i’ve had boyfriends who i hadn’t even met or contacted. you can’t get more independent than me! if you tried, you’d die cold and alone wearing a filthy cardigan inexplicably soaked in diet pepsi.




and “more pure?” Please. i wish i could unsee half of the horror and degradation i’ve seen in my life, but since i can’t, i do what any enterprising sexpot would do—i sublimate it in the bedroom. where i am constantly desiring of sex.


so who wants to take this clingy prude out on a date this weekend? anyone? anyone?? has anybody not blocked me??

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a conversation tip

please don’t ever say “had a blast” around me. that’s a one-way ticket to me hating you.

also, don’t ever say “so-and-so passed away” around me either. just say “so-and-so fucking died.” otherwise, life sentence on hate row; no parole, no conjugal visits.

don't end up like this guy who said to me last fall, "yeah, dude, we had a blast when greg passed away!" i made him eat those words—for his last meal.

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