The Littlest Winslow

April Fool’s Day ha-has are kind of playing themselves out, but boy, did this make me chuckle a time or two. What if there was a Family Matters movie and what if it was a sequel to Taken?

Wow. Let that sit in your dutch oven for a while.

The Littlest Winslow would BACK IT!

Totally stole this from Funny or Die.

From the makers of Bacon Salt and Baconnaise comes a product that you never knew you wanted. Until now. Maybe. But probably not.

J&D’s now has bacon condoms, but don’t worry: they don’t have the texture of bacon (because that would be…uncomfortable). The condoms do taste and smell like bacon though, so if you like some snackin’ with your sexin’, you’re in luck!

These meaty playthings are latex and are coated with the company’s special brand of water-based lube. Well, praise Jesus!

My experience with J&D’s products is a mixed bag: I loved the Bacon Salt, but almost vomited up the Baconnaise. (For real. There was gagging. Avoid). As enticing as this novelty is, I just wouldn’t be able to force it upon my lady. In fact, I’m not sure if any woman would want bacon scent all up inside her. But hey – if you’ve tried ‘em out, you should definitely hit me up and report back on your experience. Actually, that sounds freaky. I mean about the smell and taste. That also sounds totally effed. Get your mind out of the gutter perv.

If curiosity has gotten the better of you, you can pick these up for $10 per 3-pack at the J&D’s site. They’re currently sold out, but you can be put on a waiting list and be one of the first weirdos bacon enthusiasts in line.

This doesn’t really need much of an introduction, but if you need an apartment in Boston, perhaps this craigslist post can help you out:

$900 Fenway Apartment (Fenway)

Hey there. You look like the type of person that wants to live with us. Are you a person? Do you like apartments? Do you like living with three dudes with great hair? You’re fucking right you do. This apartment is big as tits. Its got two floors….”wait did he just say?”…yeah TWO FUCKING FLOORS. Big ass kitchen if you’re into that stuff. I got a question you should ask yourself, do you like pooping? Well good thing you do because we have 2.5 goddamn baths bitch! that means 3 toilets, in the words of Lil Wayne you can “shit all daaayyyy”. Speaking of Lil Wayne, the two bedrooms are huge! Unfortunately, you won’t have a bedroom to yourself! I know! It sucks! Kind of! But not really because you get to live in the same room as one of us and we fucking ROCK. You like couches? We got two, eat it. You like futons? We got two of those motherfuckeerrrrrrr. Futons like you read about. Let me guess, you cross me as the type of person that has a lot of clothes and shoes. Well good thing we have closets all over the place. You like walking into things? These are WALK IN CLOSETS. One in each bedroom baby! Ain’t no thang. Just a couple of O.G.’s trying to find a roommate who wants to hang out with some awesome looking men, thats right we’re men, well at least I am, not much of a man, but a man. You like sloths? SO DO WE. We can’t own one, nobody can, but we can imagine how awesome it would be to have A FUCKING SLOTH IN THIS AWESOME FUCKING APARTMENT. Yeah its sweet. No pets though. There’s a communal rooftop deck which means if we have a semi hot neighbor we can watch her over the four foot fence that separates us from normal people. You like Perrier water? That sucks, we piss in perrier, perrier in the toilets, champagne in the faucets. We ball. Groceries are fun, good thing there is shaw’s supermarket less than 500 yards away thats 5 football fields if you’re into math. We have a Nintendo 64, wanna Mario Kart? I’ll see you on Rainbow Road bitch. See we lead pretty simple lives. We eat steak, we drink whiskey, we enjoy the occasional cigar. One of those is a lie, actually two, maybe three I’m not really sure. I can’t smoke, it makes me cough, my friend can’t eat steak I think he caught the gay, and the last kid doesn’t drink because we are “underage” (*finger quotes) but rules were made to be broken, just like bones. You know what they say, when in Kiev, do as the Kievans do. Or something along those lines. We appreciate your time and we’re glad you read this because we need a roommate really bad and whatnot.

About a year ago, I wrote a diatribe against everyone’s favorite social-networking website, Facebook. It wasn’t the site itself that I had a gripe over, but rather, the usage of its power in the wrong hands. My sentiments continued taking up brainspace throughout the year and yet again resurfaced after reading Roger Cohen’s New York Times piece about oversharing back in December. Being an original Facebook launch user and considering the site’s progression and our social evolution because of it, I’ve come to this conclusion: Society is beyond screwed.

I came to this conclusion while perusing the Book of Faces one day, having witnessed one of the most repulsive posts I have ever seen. A Facebook friend was tagged in a photo of a potty training little boy who was finally pooping in his toy training potty. (I don’t even know what to call those fake toilet things because I don’t have kids and that is gross.) Now, because this Mother of the Year tagged my friend, strangers (myself included) were now watching her son shit.

This lady must be off her meds or having a psychotic break because I can’t figure out WHY someone would put their child, half-naked and pooping, on the Internet. I even considered posting that picture here to further press my point, but got too sketched out. But dammit, I should’ve, because that’s what happens when you’re an idiot and post your idiocy on the Internet without the proper privacy controls. Anyone can view your business (uhh, literally in this case) and do with it as they please.

Oversharing on the Web has become an epidemic and there appears to be no cure. I don’t really care what you had for lunch and you can save your photos for Instagram. I definitely don’t care that you’re tired, cranky and haven’t had your coffee yet. And I couldn’t give any less of a fuck that you’re getting married in six months, found a photographer, sent your invites or found pretty decorations, because bitch, you’re crazy and I feel bad for your husband to be.

Can’t anything just be private anymore? Have we learned nothing from Jodie Foster? The flood gates have opened and there doesn’t seem to be any way to dam them back up. Perhaps sanity-cursed individuals like myself will simply get sick of tiresome, inane posts and branch off, reconnecting with the world around us, meeting for brunches and happy hours while keeping our SmartPhones securely in our pockets or purses. Maybe it’s time to shed ourselves of these open book social media users, who simultaneously complain about the weather, their jobs, and the flu they can’t kick, all while taking duck-faced self portraits of themselves. And don’t get me wrong – I love social media. But maybe it’s time to rejoin and reconnect with society as it was before, or at least have some semblance of boundaries.

I probably sound like a curmudgeon, and surely there will be some who will not agree. This is clearly the opinion of one, and you know what they say: Opinions are like assholes. It’s just that if you’re posting photos of your child’s latest bowel movement on Facebook for the whole world to see, well, you are the asshole.

Pope, the floor is not a hamper!

Dry Koala:

Wet Koala:

Don’t fuck with a wet koala, man.

Thanks to LB for sending this in! Send me your weird shit on Facebook or Twitter!

Last night’s fairly stellar Golden Globes ceremony, hosted by SNL vets Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, was filled with Tarantino creepiness, smoking hot stars (those Homeland ladies!), and jabs on James Cameran, Ricky Gervais and James Franco. Girls and Lena Dunham had a moment winning Best Actress and Best Comedy or Musical, Les Misérables won shit, Homeland won shit too, and Ben Affleck gave a huge middle finger to his ol’ pal Oscar (well, he didn’t…but his victory sure did). This is all fine and great, but Jodie Foster! And that speech! 

In case you missed it, it’s a must:

Foster was accepting the award for the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement-type Award Thingie for her excellence in film over the course of her 47 years in the business. And man did she have stuff to say.

I applaud her, I do. Granted, she came off as a bit manic and rambling, but you could also pin that on her passion. She clearly felt a need for expression and she knew she was going to have the stage, so there you have it. It’s a shame that people dock her for her association with Mel Gibson, but if your closest friend and ally had a bad year or two, most likely you wouldn’t abandon them. Or maybe you would, you asshole. Loyalty. I dig.

I respect her stance on privacy, too, and on Hollywood and the media’s perverse affair. Our whole TMZ/Perez Hilton-led, gossip fueled society is bullshit, and didn’t Fiona Apple tell us that years ago? Looks like we still haven’t learned. Is Foster gay? Probably. But who the hell are we to speculate on something that has absolutely nothing to do with her work?

Jodie Foster is a living legend and her speech was legendary. Plain and simple.

I’m gonna duck out of this blog before I start Foster-rambling myself, but RESPECT, Jod’. I sure hope this isn’t your swan song.

THIS. Just….this:

That is all.

Good evening, America. It has recently come to my attention that some of you may not have met Chloe yet. Sevigny, that is. But this “woman” might not be the same one you recall.

Drew Droege stars as Sevigny in his damn spiffy YouTube series. He dresses up as the hip and ever-fashion-forward Sevigny and discusses new trends or things that “Chloe” recently decides she likes. Like toast. Or reading. And also, sandwiches.

It’s so great on so many levels. Where do I even begin? Chloe Sevigny is just…strange, man. Its mock-pretension is to die for, mispronunciations included. And also – I mean – dude’s dressed in drag and killing it.

I don’t know how, why or when Droege thought that dressing up as Sevigny was a great idea, but man – GENIUS. You should follow him on Twitter and ask him and get back to me.

Oh, alright – one more! Because one can never get enough CHLOE:

It’s the gift that every child should own!

Thanks to the NeatoShop, you can own this cute (?) and cuddly (??) zombified monster for $49.95.  It’s mostly plush, with vinyl bones, entrails and skull. So…uh…it’s mostly cuddly?

The size is 18″ x 16″ x 7″ and there’s only 2 left, so grab it quick before it decomposes forever!

Thanks to Lauren for the tip!