I don't what this is or where it's from, but it's strangely creepy and vaguely racist...

I just got the following email from a project lead here at the office:

To clarify,

There will be no daily meeting today (or tomorrow) for [redacted].  Have a good fourth celebrating our countries' birthday!

So, does he mean that we have more than one country?  Or does he perhaps mean "our country's"?  I'm confused.

bearish guy towing a wrecked car today - m4m

(Lufkin) 28yr

So, the Stars announced today that they'd signed Sean Avery (formerly of the NY Rangers) to a four-year deal, $15.5 million deal. Sure, he's a scrappy badass, as this video shows: In fact, the NHL even has the so-called "Sean Avery Rule": Avery came up with a new, and apparently legal, way to get into [New Jersey Devils' goalie Martin] Brodeur's head. With his back to the play, Avery parked at the edge of Brodeur's crease and waved his arms wildly in a bizarre effort to distract the Devils' goaltender. He also waved the blade of his stick back and forth in front of Brodeur's mask. "I've been watching games for 33 years and I have never seen anything like that in my life," Brodeur told the New York Daily News. "If it's within the rules, it's within the rules. The official came over and said it probably wasn't something that should be done." National Hockey League Senior Executive Vice President and Director of Hockey Operations Colin Campbell issued a statement Monday to make the league's position clear going forward. The statement said: "An unsportsmanlike conduct minor penalty (Rule 75) will be interpreted and applied, effective immediately, to a situation when an offensive player positions himself facing the opposition goaltender and engages in actions such as waving his arms or stick in front of the goaltender's face, for the purpose of improperly interfering with and/or distracting the goaltender as opposed to positioning himself to try to make a play." So if anyone tried Avery's ploy again, it will be a two-minute penalty.

But there's another, odd side to Avery; he recently interned...err, "guest-edited" Men's Vogue and came away with this really awesome, extra-faggy picture of himself: Wow...that's gay. And apparently I'm not the only one that thinks so. As part of his internship, he went to Paris for the Chanel, Gautier and Dior summer shows and fashion writer Susan Kirschbaum ran into him and straight-up asked if he was sure he wasn't gay. In creepy, this-will-probably-come-back-to-haunt-him response, he replied "I'm going home to jerk off to you now. And that's a big compliment." Gawker also reports that he later texted Kirschbaum to say "the session is going well." Eek. Brett Hull, I hope you know what you're doing. At least B.J. Crombeen, the other player signed today, doesn't seem to have anything bad going for him. Except, you know, those misfortunate initials.

Helen Mirren

Sure, why not? But only if she did it in character as the Queen.

or, International House of Nightmare Fuel. This 1969 IHOP spot shows that LSD was being heavily used by Madison Avenue creatives at the time.

Over at Blogadilla, they have a nifty Swedish Furniture Name Generator. So I put in the name of this site and got this:

Go try it yourself here.

Upon hearing this, my friend Holly said ?all I have ever wanted is for someone to call me an ?elegant woman?.?

Friday night I went out with my friend Linz, her boyfriend and his roommate.  Typical evening at the Flying Saucer in Addison, for the most part.  Nice to get out of a rut and whatnot, making for a weak intro to the story from college I'm about to tell.  At any rate, a happening at the Saucer reminded me of the following:

Way back in the day, when I was still in college and the calendar still had a "19" at the beginning of the year part, I used to hang out at a bar in College Station called Fitzwilly's (which also sounds like some of the girls I met there, as in "She fits willies in there all night long"¹).  I was usually there with my roommate, who was an alcoholic, annoying womanizer who only really had the one redeeming quality that he paid his rent/bills on time.  We'd go up there Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, sit in the corner "mafia" booth and hold court.  He, being a former member of the Corps of Cadets, knew a great deal of people, while I was chock full o' witty repartee.  Also, he was a rich fucker, so most of the massive amounts of alcohol we consumed was ultimately paid for by his parents via the magic of MasterCard.  We'd stay there until the bar closed, hitting on women, talking to people, being assholes, that kind of thing.

One evening, we'd gone up there and had gotten fairly sloshed when it was decided that it was time to move on elsewhere.  Perhaps we were going home or maybe going to another bar for change of scenery...the Chicken or Hole in the Wall or the Dry Bean or something like that.  We went to the bar to pay and as we stood there waiting for a bartender to close out our tab, I noticed a fairly hot, but definitely skanky, blonde girl wearing tight jeans and a bikini top that was straining to keep her giant, unnatural breasts restrained.

We couldn't help but stare.

And stare some more.

And that's when the grizzled (aren't they all?) old biker she was with noticed us looking at her chest.

I thought we were about to get our asses kicked.  Or stabbed.  Or something.

Instead, the old biker guy asked, "You like her titties?"

I didn't know what to say...I'd been caught.  My roommate, on the other hand, said "Sure...they're nice."

This caused me to get really nervous...my roommate had just admitted straight up to checking out this girl's rack, whereas I was hoping that we could somehow play off that we weren't really looking at them.

"Go ahead," said the biker, "feel them...I bought 'em for her."

WTF?

And, so, my roommate did feel them.  Right there.

"Hey, Rifleman, you gotta feel these...they feel really natural," he said.

She giggled and said "Thanks" then encouraged me to have a feel.  So I did.  Both of them.

And, wow, they did feel natural.

And I didn't get stabbed or shot or beaten with a pool cue.

¹Wow, that was so fucking lame.  I can't believe I wrote that. Then didn't edit it out.

Okay, so SCoD isn't really a regular feature, but this one on a story at the Consumerist really stood out as inane:

@Ash78: Too bad BMW is a British Car, not German.... B-British... M-Motor....W-... im not sure what the w stands for but its probably Works?

You're going to have to trust me on this one, but this is some delicious horsemeat-flavored ice cream.

This has been bothering me for a few days now...a few weeks back, I posted this picture on my photoblog

along with the caption "Emo Feet", because, you know, it's obviously the feet of some emo chick, right? Well, apparently "emo" and "feet" are two things that when put together become some kind of freakish sex fetish, because I've been getting hundreds of hits from people using the search term "emo feet". I never understood the whole "foot fetish" thing anyway...personally, I think my feet (and feet in general) are kind of gross and would be repelled if anyone wanted to get off with them. But adding emo into the mix, which I really don't understand, well, that's fucking weird. Really. Fucking. Weird.