Exactly. I’m fine with that. I’m not cool with all the regurgitation of What Bill Did. Are we next going to have to talk about Bill’s policies as a president? Because he is NOT RUNNING.

And coke. Don’t forget the coke.

Turning on a blacklight in that place would be like:

That’s going to be a hell of an exterminator bill.

It looks pretty shabby and run-down on the inside. My source is myself from 8 years ago, shame-watching Girls Next Door.

$40 million would be just enough down payment for a $200 million house (and you know he won’t talk Hef down). And he’d have $5 million of his net worth left over to spend on tea. And Hugh Hefner would probably flee after a month of Martin playing his guitar. Too bad.

I would never be able to shake the feeling that every surface in that place would be coated in a fine layer of lube and gonorrhoea.

Whoever buys this place better have an amazon dash button for lysol wipes.

Yeah, the solution of, “Do half an hour of work at home so you can have half an hour of work later,” is one that makes life better for some people. For other people, that half hour is one that’s better devoted to something other than food prep. Others don’t even half that half hour.

Your life is not everyone’s life. This is not a universal solution.

Oh wow, a sex painting! It’s like, the very apex of avant garde! So deep and totally world-changing and also featured in a Big Bang Theory episode. You can’t get any cleverer than that, y’know?

The Armpit Faith: Nearer My Axe Body Spray to Thee.

I’m hoping he ages out of his entitled toddler phase sometime before he’s 35. He does have talent, but it’s constantly overshadowed by behaving like the world is his McDonald’s PlayPlace. He’s the kid that was proud to pee in the ball pit and down the slide.

Every time I hear Justin Bieber’s mother moan about how abortion should be illegal because “Look at who my son turned out to be”, I shoot out a hard snort. Lady, your son is a ringing endorsement for why abortion should be legal, cheap and readily available.

Her tweet made me roll my eyes so hard that I briefly passed out.

Dammit. And there I was, all these years, making love on a bed FOR WAR.

The term “made love” makes me want to puke so hard. Such a lame euphemism.

so artsy fartsy

Omg. I thought I was the only one forced to have that horrendous mirror plug plate. (Gaga)

It looks sort of like they were poorly photoshopped into Monte Carlo.