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No, he’s not worth $0.50, you tool. He IS 50 Cent. Can you guess which is which?
And in case you missed it, Fabricio Oberto = Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. But in his case, he doesn’t just look like him, he’s also a cross-dressing psychotic assclown.
Despite the fact that I discovered the magic wonders of Xtranormal.com and am personally responsible for starting a revolution at my office, I was the third of four circle-jerk of lunacy bloggers (where you at [B]utterfuly [S]uicide?) to create my own video. And by “my own” I mean taking the script to one of the greatest movies ever and applying it to weird, cat-bear Hello-Kitty-like creatures…
Now, while my video is a total movie rip-off, these ungrateful cocksmokers who didn’t thank me for leading them towards the path of enlightenment (aka xtranormal.com) have created their own original masterpieces:
holySmith – Conversations with a 2-year-old
Chicken Effed Bacon – Chicken effed Bacon’s Bacon of the Month Club Monthly Bacon Review and Report
Still waiting on my fruit basket… or whatever the hell is the customary “thank you” gift from honkeys.
Lately my precious, incredibly beautiful and dangerously intelligent daughter and I have been testing out the pool on warmer days to check if the water has thawed enough for us to enjoy a good swim. This process involves me dipping one of my limbs into the water to determine whether my entire body would be able to withstand the blistering temperature.
Ultimately, the decision comes down to this: can my balls take it?
Now, my balls are as tough as the next man’s, but if there is one thing I totally wuss out on is chilling my grapefruits like if they were warm beers in desperate need of a cooldown. I can wet my feet and legs up to my knees, or I can splash icy cold water on my head, arms, and upper torso – but just as my balls retract as deep as they can into my scrotum, I completely shy away from the absolute terror that is the sensation of cold water surrounding my nutsack.
There is only one way I have managed to overcome the dread of exposing my beloved testicles to the harsh conditions of the frozen tundra – and that is by combining the shock of cold balls with the rest of my body by diving in entirely so as to spread the impact and divert attention away from my coinpurse. I’ve done this in the freezing fucking waters of mountain-side caves in Hawaii, the gonad-shattering waterfall pool somewhere in the upper Salt River and the occasional cold pools here and there.
I wasn’t able to do that, however, at an awesome little lake in the otherwise forsaken desolate wasteland that is Yuma this past weekend, as I made the careless mistake of taking a couple steps into the beach. That was enough to frighten the piss out of my balls (almost literally). I had past the point of no return. There would be no shock-absorbing plunge. For the rest of the day I sat my ass on a chair placed right on the edge of the tide, drinking beer, eating barbecued chicken and pork, only wetting up to my ankles at any point.
Although I would’ve liked to go for a swim in an all-natural, man-made lake, I couldn’t help but to do the Tiger fist-pump knowing that I had protected the family jewels from the elements once more. Fuck cold balls.
Fun Comment Challenge: Can you count how many different terms I used to describe my hairy twins (including that one)?
Whoever said white people have it easy clearly haven’t seen this video. If anyone can truly claim “it’s a hard-knock life,” it’s dudes like these (with names like Cody, Dillon, Cameron and Tucker):
On a serious note: I would drink the blood of 17 virgins while chanting “I’m a Little Teacup” in Latin for the chance of trading just 30% of these white people problems with mine.
