Zack: I wonder where you can buy a lace shooter's doiley.
Steve: Can we skip this one?
Zack: What is it?
Steve: Nothing. I just don't like it. It's boring.
Zack: Is it the backdrop that makes it look like she's posing in a Sears catalog from the 80s?
Steve: No. It's just lame.
Zack: Joking about the lameness is the whole point of this article, Steve.
Steve: She's just really weird and ugly.
Zack: That's not fair! She might not be winning any beauty pageants, but she's got that school teacher look going for her. There has got to be more going on than that.
Steve: She looks like someone I don't like.
Zack: Come on, spill it.
Steve: She looks like my mom.
Zack: Maybe it is your mom! Could it be?
Steve: No way, her name is Cassandra Sumner.
Zack: Is your mom a Republican?
Steve: Which one of them hates pornos?
Steve: She's a Republican then because she totally trashed my stack of Clubs I had in my closet.
Zack: Did she shoot them with a black .38 revolver?
Steve: No, she burned them in the fireplace and made the whole house stink because you're not supposed to burn magazines indoors.
The Amazonians value combat prowess and purity of spirit. By wrestling half naked, they pay homage to both virtues by displaying their battle-forged bodies while preserving as much modesty as their society deems necessary. The gelatin in which they wrestle is symbolic of the fluid nature of battle, a concept the Amazonians call ‘akgor-gra.’
Pros: Much more comfortable than my last toilet seat, which was a transparent resin with seashells embedded inside. The outer layer wore off from friction, exposing the sharp jagged edges of the seashells, which were constantly scrapping my backside and causing major cuts and open sores.
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.