I'm bringing down the whammy right now. And I'm loving it!

Sure enough, it's Red. This is the Snakes of a Plane of limited edition trim levels.

Hooray Babelfish!

Creeps Like Me, by Lyle Lovett. Sure, it's not a pump-up song, but at least it's got some ol' fashioned statutory rape.

McLane bought a cake for Oswalt to celebrate the new contract. No word on whether or not it was shaped like a tractor.

"Ooh yeah. Call me a faggot again, big boy."

When I saw the headline and the accompanying picture, I naturally assumed that the girls in the picture were the USC swim team.

Gurkha Durka Durka?

I've had bowel movements that didn't stink that bad.

See? Whitney was right. Cursed, I tell ya.

Somewhere, Bernie Kosar is calling his agent.

Maybe they can start an even more awesome religion based on short-man syndrome. They could call it Flutieism.

At least he cleared the barn.

Awe inspring like "damn, look at the size of the bowl that Ricky just smoked"?

This is what happens when you let women vote.

That had to smell like ass.

Great post. As the Astros continue to implode this year (3 game winning streak against the Pirates notwithstanding), the feeling in my stomach is so familiar it doesn't even bother me all that much. The more the years roll by, the less and less soothing those Hakeem-led championships help.

Looks like Britney has cut back on Kevin's allowance again.

It's all fun and games until Robby Kinevel breaks a pelvis.

I'm just thinking about how emotionally scarring it would be to have a tree projectile vomit on you.