Goodwill goes grammar-free

I like the Goodwill -- it's smart, it's economical, it's an experience. It is, however, generally not fart-free; every time you shop at a Goodwill, it's pretty much guaranteed you're going to get tooted on by a stranger wearing a pair of violet velour stretch pants. That aside, the Goodwill is a great way to not waste things. Except for apostrophes, apparently:

I was at the Goodwill on a half-off Saturday, which is sort of like dipping yourself in nacho cheese, then going to the Super Bowl. The place was thick with scavengers, and let me tell you -- extreme bargain shoppers are motherfucking relentless. There's junk in the Goodwill they didn't even know they wanted, but when they find it, bless their used underpants souls, they want it bad to the bone. I didn't have the patience to wade through all of the sale-damp flesh to get photos of the other posters, but trust me, there are as many apostrophes missing from the Goodwill's posters as there are navajo sofas in the basement. All I'm saying is, hey, Goodwill -- maybe don't let the "special" people on the side of your truck do your grammar check. 

Newsletter

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Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

A friend of mine is raising chickens in his backyard. Recently one of these chickens humped the cat and was spotted sporting truck nuts on his Hummer, revealing himself as a rooster. Since you can't have a rooster in town, and since it was dinner time, Scott had some friends over for a most fascinating dining experience. 

I wish I had a picture of the rooster, Prince William, before he was just parts in a bucket. But I don't, so here are some of the ladies from the henhouse. They were eager to punish Prince William for his recent rape crimes. 

Once in the garage, Seth thanked the Prince for his life and promised him we would all one day return to the earth just like he was about to. Although hopefully none of us will return to the earth after bleeding out into a metal pail. 

KFC's lowest-priced bucket of chicken still comes with a biscuit and a side of coleslaw:

A tablespoon of dish soap in the boiling water, and the feathers pull right out. A tablespoon of dish soap on your bloodstained hands and face, and the guilt seems to remain. 

The dinner guests look on during plucking.

Little girl becomes bored with chicken murder, flees the scene to catch the last half of a "My Little Pony" DVD.

The ladies' sixth chicken sense kicking in:

Seth smoking a necessary post-butchering cig:

And Phillip giving the old middle finger to Colonel Sanders:

Thank you, Prince William, for a real good night, for a real good dinner, and for something to freaking blog about. 

My Caucus Leans to the Left

Best campaign shirt of all time:

Newsletter

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