Author: Sharkey

She’s good looking, a little quirky, and makes out with chicks for money. Any one of those can be a prerequisite for being slice of the day, but Alyson Hannigan has them all rolled up into one sweet strawberry flavored package. Dig in.

By the way, that pieclopedia link is still in the production phase. If anyone gets any bright ideas for it, let me know.

Do I even need to tell you?

[ Dog Gives Flasher His Come-Uppance ] – thanks John

A drunken Croat flasher got more excitement than he bargained for when he pushed his penis through a woman’s fence and her dog bit it, local newspapers said on Friday.

The visibly drunk man was walking down the street and started swearing and shouting at the woman for no reason. He then shoved his penis through her fence, unaware her dog was on the other side, police said.

Ha Ha *grabs dick in sympathy pain* HA, motherfucker!

It says that he got off with light injuries, although he’s being charged with “insulting the moral feelings of citizens”, which is probably the lamest way of saying “shoving your junk in someone’s fence” that I’ve ever heard. Does that mean that in Zagreb I’d receive the same sentence as this guy for say, picking on a chick for being prude? So does that mean that catcalls are pretty much illegal over there? If so, how do their construction workers not kill themselves? I mean, you’re wearing a goofy helmet, covered in sweat, eating with dirty hands and you’ve got to not act like a testosterone-filled pig. I think implosions would be their number one cause of male death in Croatia, or wherever this cockbitten bastard lives.

….

…oh, I’m sorry. I was just daydreaming about how fun it would be to walk down the street and see imploded chunks of people lying all over the place. But that’s only because I shot a terrible golf game today, and I hate you because of it.

Well, after winning that court case two weeks ago I kind of felt it inevitable that they would appeal the decision. My former employer is the kind of ass who would gladly pay to delay the process of me getting my hands on any of his money. Everyone I knew told me that there’s no possible way. Nobody would want to incur the fees, lawyers or otherwise, that appealing a decision like this would bring. Besides, they’ve got important shit to do. What owner of a multi-million dollar company would want to waste his time endlessly battling in court just to save himself a little money?

I’ve got the answer for you: he would. I just got the notice of appeal in my mailbox. Now I’ve got two options: let my sort-of-crummy legal representation help me out, or file for free attorney representation by the Labor Commissioner. I’m thinking that the latter will be a better idea. Anyone have any advice?

Go to humorandthings.com, go to the videos section, and watch the crash and bad nanny videos. Comedy.

Well, comedy in a tragic sort of way. But that’s the way you like it, you sick bastards.

Your slice for today is the delicious Jessica Biel, who has really dropped off the radar recently. She’s doing some remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which, if you’ve seen the 1994 sequel, you know to be a terrible idea. Although both Matthew McConaughey and Renee Zellweger enjoyed success after that mostrocity of a film, so maybe she’s on to something. Either way, she’s hot. Enjoy.

How is it that there are new pics of her floating around, but she’s not doing any notable films, or starring on any TV shows? Not that I’m complaining, we could use some more of her. But she should really get some other actresses on the bandwagon. I haven’t seen any new natalie portman pics in a long-ass time. You think it was the nude beach thing?

[ Kids Are Going To Have To Sell A Lot Of Crack To Afford This ]

I hate going up to L.A. for any business related ventures. It’s never fun, never interesting, and always an excruciating drive. And today, I had to make the magical journey to East L.A., which is twice as bad. To get there you have to go through Downey, which has always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I dunno, there’s something disturbing to me about a town who’s monicker would have been a fitting nickname for Corky from Life Goes On.

So on the return trip, I had just entered the fast lane on the 5 freeway when traffic predictably got bad. When I slowed down to match everyone’s 10mph pace, I noticed a red blur in my rear view mirror heading unsettlingly quickly towards me. I knew he was going to hit me, even when he slammed on his brakes. The bump seemed pretty fucking hard, especially since I could feel it in my neck (never a good sign), although when we got out to inspect the damage, we found that there was none. Not on either car. But since I’m not one to take chances (especially if my neck doesn’t get any better) I asked this little Asian fellow who so disturbed my day for his insurance information. This is the reply I received over the roar of traffic:

“No. No English.”

Great. So now I’m blocking fucking traffic with a guy who can’t comprehend the word “insurance”. So he heads back into his car, and returns with a cell phone, which he promptly hands to me. I get in my car so that I can hear, and the Asian girl on the other line fumbles her way through telling me that her friend speaks no English, so I should tell her whatever I want to say to him. I ask her for his insurance information, and hand the phone back to him. Just then, two highway patrolmen pull up and tell us that we’re going to need to move to the shoulder if there’s no damage. And right as the cop is talking to me, the Asian fellow gets off the phone, reaches into his pocket, and tries to fucking bribe me. With a hundred dollar bill, no less. I quickly shoo him away, and make hand signs to indicate that we need to move quickly.

After that bribing incident, the cop decided to stick around to see if anything else of interest might happen, thus screwing my chances of getting the hundred bucks. But the Asian guy was very reluctant to give me his information. He called another friend of his to explain to me that his insurance information was at home. I settled on his drivers license, license plate, VIN number, cell phone number, and anything else I could get my hands on. If I wind up with whiplash, I’m certainly not going to be paying for it with his paltry C-note.

So that was my day so far. Think Larry H. Parker will fight for me? (Does anyone outside of California get that one?)

You know what’s great? When you can get a Photoshop tip and boobies, all wrapped up in one shiny little link. That said, I’m sure you can imagine that this link is not safe for work.

[ Cat Schwartz’s Boobies ]

She’s kind of dwelling on the whole thing on her weblog. It’s not like this is going to really hurt her career. Like a station who’s primary audience is the kind of fat sweaty variety that would enjoy this sort of web-treasure could possibly penalize her for pandering (inadvertently) to their nerdly masturbatory desires. She should set up a paypal donations box as a “tip” for the high-rez versions and get it over with. Oh, and speaking of shameless selling out, I put up a Cat Schwartz gallery. If anyone gets some good looking pics of her, ship them on over to me and perhaps I’ll have enough to scramble a decent SOTD together.

Ever since the mighty mobo meltdown of last weekend, I’ve been forced to abandon Star Wars Galaxies for the more Microsoft-reliant (and therefore, more evil) Star Wars Knights Of The Old Republic. About 8 hours into the game you become a Jedi Padawan, eschewing years of studying and discipline for three minutes of training montage, which apparently takes three weeks, since your character is so “gifted” in the force. I attribute that to my heavy reliance on the dark side. My theory is that there are millions of insignificant aliens in the galaxy, therefore nobody is going to miss the five or six that gain me a few extra dollars so’s I can buy shiny things.

The game itself is a lot of fun, but the instant that you become a jedi, you become like Superman in a world filled with little girls who’s cats have become stuck in their respective trees. Everywhere you go, it’s save my kid or rescue my sex-bot.

That’s right, rescue my sex-bot. I don’t want to spoil it for those of you who haven’t gotten this far, but on your first Padawan-adventure, you stumble across a lady who asks you to find her “companion” that has been kidnapped. After a lengthy attempt to tell her to fuck off, it becomes apparent that her “companion” is a “personal assistant droid” that has “taken the place of her husband” in her home. Immediatly, probably due to my predeliction for the dark side, I began thinking naughty thoughts. But apparently, I was right. When I came across the little metal bastard, he was crying about how he wanted to be destroyed so that he wouldn’t have to go back and “service” his master. Pretty early in the game for deviancy, but what do I care, I’ve got two lightsabers. What’s odd though, is that I have a droid of my own in the game and there’s no option whatsoever to “molest” him, nor is there a “service master” option when you take control of it. Perhaps that is because my droid looks more like an R-2, while hers was more of an early C3PO model. You know Threepio was a bottom. R-2 was the butch, Threepio was the bitch. End of story.

Parents, be forewarned. This game describes sexual situations involving the gratuitous raping of droids. Mind your children.