Now THAT is a good looking ice cream clown. Maybe I’ll have to hit up Friendly’s for my birthday next month.

In fairness, I think they were SLIGHTLY more legit than this when I was a kid — the scoops were bigger, and he had whipped cream hair (like sides only clown hair) and a red cherry nose (like a red clown nose) and his collar was a paper doily (because everything at Swensen’s came on a doily)

These are like the contemporary grown up version of that fucking Mr. San Francisco clown cone Swensen’s used to give you on your birthday. They had the cone on top to be Mr. San Francisco’s clown hat, and it was delightful and whimsical... but the first thing you had to do was disassemble Mr. San Francisco and put…

Even trying to imagine it is stressful. I do not need that many lanky naked white dudes in my bedroom all at once.

Also, in the interest of fairness I should add that he was a fucking mess himself, and was engaged like 3 times in the two years I worked with him. So... a crazy lid for every dickweed pot and all.

I may’ve said this here before, but: a former colleague was once engaged to a Pink Ranger (I think the original one, b/c he was older than I am, and I am old, but I don’t want to slander anyone). When he broke it off, she went BANANAS — stalked him across state lines, staked out his apartment complex, threatened his…

Second degree burn on my thigh while making potstickers. Solidarity.

yessssss.

Oh, Chris Hemsworth’s career is “in crisis,” and he’s worried he’ll “be stuck in his Thor costume forever.”

Ted Danson is in there with Alan Alda on the list of Dudes I Had Crushes On In Elementary School Who Could Still Get It.

Having read Holly Madison’s memoir (shut up; it was free), and knowing that she thinks Crystal fakes her Disney love to simultaneously mimic and take digs at her adds a whole new weird, SWF-ish level to that already icky tweet.

McConaughey, basically:

“Step aside, peasant! It’s my turn at the counting beads!”

Whoa, it’s like an Alaskan V.C. Andrews novel. Malamutes in the Attic.

(squints) “Paul... is... dead?”

He’s got a weak chin and a shit face tattoo, so both genetics and personal choices are working against him.

You’ve found me out. Stay silent or brace yourself for thrashing.

Giving the peasants what they want is an easy way to bring in the ducats.

‘I expect the feeling at Kensington Palace is that it’s rather naff to sell cheap copies of Diana’s engagement ring.

Yeah, even when I’m in sympathy with the frustration of the person saying “google it your damn self,” it never doesn’t come off as a dick move. And hello then, cousin of infinitesimal degree!