What Happens at Pink Taco...

While I seriously doubt the veracity of this story, I've got to give this person props for posting this sign. What I wouldn't give to listen in on those phone calls.

On the other hand, the story doesn't seem too far-fetched. The first Pink Taco I encountered didn't have any windows and appeared to be a high class sex club sandwiched between a J. Crew and a Container Store. I imagined the place filled with bleach blonde cougars teaching their teenage daughters how to attract men (probably with tequila shooters and tight pink sweatpants).

Well, it was only a matter of time before one of those cougars woke up hung over with a minimally stained rubber fist. Wait, minimally stained with what? Can someone please call the number and find out for me? It looks like the number is (310) 358-1703. I would call, but at a certain point one has to quit buying every rubber fist on the market. Actually, it looks like there has already been some interest, judging from the torn-off phone numbers.

Actually, I did have one other question. "One size fits all"? Fits all what?!?

I Can Hold It

I wish I could show you where this unholy place is on a map. Not because I want to help you find this stinking, wretched 50 square feet of shame. Nor is it because I want to be able to say that I've personally visited this particular gateway to Hell.

No, the real reason I would like to know the exact location of the shitter to end all shitters is because I would like to be sure to keep myself at least 300 miles away from this place at all times.

I know, I know. How can an e. coli infested, Hep A breeding ground like this possibly harm me if I never step foot in the place? Good question, my friend. I have an even better answer: If there exists a community that can be home to this Nightmare Toilet, I want nothing to do with it. Think about it. Someone used (and maybe still uses) this room. That person lives somewhere, maybe a town. They have a job in that town, they have friends in that town. They shake hands with people, have relationships with people, maybe even... make sweet, dirty love to people. Man, there's probably fecal matter from this bathroom spread out over the entire county.

Nuh-uh. No way. I want no part of that. Three hundred miles. Minimum.

P.S. I don't actually know where this toilet is, so if you do know please email me ASAP.

Ain't No Party Like a Poodle Party

Oh, wow. I'm not even sure where to begin on this one, another gem pulled from Flickr.

If it were just the poodles on the couch you would have yourself a pretty funny picture. But add a balding man in short-shorts and a Hello Kitty party hat and you begin wandering into "creepy" territory. Interesting paw placement, I might add.

In case you're wondering, the user who uploaded this is called "poodlephile_lucy".

WTF is that? Ice Cream???

'Fraid not. Though it looks cold, sweet, and creamy, you wouldn't want to eat a spoonful of it raw. That's because it's Mechanically Separated Chicken. You know, the stuff chicken nuggets are made of.

Now, before you go "Ewwwww!!" just imagine that sitting next to that box of mechanically separated chicken is a large bowl of BBQ dipping sauce (or honey mustard, if you prefer). Not so disgusting now, huh?

I heard your belly growl. Don't deny it.

Snorting Coke on Your iPhone

Finally, an iPhone app that truly takes advantage of its shiny, flat screen. Isn't this like 21st century candy cigarettes?

From the website:

Forget the Virtual Pint - it's piss. What YOU need is an unlimited supply of 'Class A' Virtual Narcotics.

Be the envy of the in-crowd. Get ejected from nightclubs. Shock and amaze your so-called friends. Get oral sex from Z-list celebrities.

Introducing The iSnort - an ultra-edgy simulated iPhone / iPod Touch application.

Go on.. give it a toot... it's virtually addictive. Download The iSnort v0.1 now for £5 - all future versions and updates are included in this one-off subscription.

All the coke you can pretend to snort for $8.00. What a bargain!

The Angstiest Jew?

I'll tell you what that isn't. It isn't a pentagram, or as this guy calls it, "the satanist star."

I'm sure I'll start to laugh at this guy as soon as I stop shaking my head.

WTF is That on Chilean TV?

A man dressed as a rat simulating sexual intercourse with a pig smoking a cigarette in front of a live studio audience.

Thanks, Flickr, for allowing people to "Share your photos" and "Watch the world" f*** pigs.