Oh, Sleep, where art thou?

When my dad's dogs had a litter of puppies last month, and we decided it would be a good idea to get one for the kids, I had forgotten how much was involved when you bring one of these little shits home.

I'm suffering from a lack of sleep. I like sleep. Sleep is fucking lovely. I miss that bitch called sleep...so much! Since I live in Louisiana, we're not having much of a winter. Yet. But the first night we had our new boxer baby, Duke, a cold front blew through, and when I brought him outside to do his business at 2:30 a.m., it was cold. Like 20 degrees colder than it was when I'd brought him out just 2 hours earlier. And all I could think of was, "This is just a cold front...what the HELL am I gonna do when winter finally comes to the South, and I'm fuh-reezing...for real?"

Anyway, he's a good puppy. Very playful, and super cute. But I'm tired (pun, intended) of getting up every two hours to bring his ass outside! He better love me the most!



Awwwww....

"They were hemmed up like a pair of pants in the 70's!"

So, I got this email forwarded, and I must say it's the funniest thing I've read in a long time. The original poster is one funny guy.


Last weekend I put an exhaust fan in the ceiling for my wife's grandfather. While my wife's brother and I were fitting the fan in between the joists, we found something under the insulation. What we found was this:



A JC Penney catalog from 1977. It's not often blog fodder just falls in my lap, but holy hell this was two solid inches of it, right there for the taking. I thumbed through it quickly and found my next dining room set, which is apparently made by adding upholstery to old barrels:


Also, I am totally getting this for my bathroom:


There's plenty more home furnishings where those came from, however I'm not going to bore you with that. Instead, I'm going to bore you with something else. The clothes.

The clothes are fantastic.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in elementary school:


Just look at that belt. It's like a boob-job for your pants. He probably needed help just to lift it into place. The belt loops have to be three inches long. And way to pull them up to your armpits, grandpa.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in high school:


This kid looks like he's pretending to be David Soul, who is pretending to be a cop who is pretending to be a pimp that everyone knows is really an undercover cop. Who is pretending to be 15.

Here's how to get your ass kicked on the golf course:

This "all purpose jumpsuit" is, according to the description, equally appropriate for playing golf or simply relaxing around the house. Personally, I can't see wearing this unless you happen to be relaxing around your cell in D-block. Even then, the only reason you should put this thing on is because the warden made you, and as a one-piece, it's slightly more effective as a deterrent against ass-rapery.

Here's how to get your ass kicked pretty much anywhere:

If you look at that picture quickly, it looks like Mr. Bob "No-pants" Saget has his hand in the other guy's pocket. In this case, he doesn't, although you can tell just by looking at them that it's happened - or if it hasn't happened it will. Oh yes. It will. As soon as he puts down his matching coffee cup.

Here's how to get your ass kicked at the beach:

He looks like he's reaching for a gun, but you know it's probably just a bottle of suntan lotion in a holster.

How to get your ass kicked in a meeting:

If you wear this suit and don't sell used cars for a living, I believe you can be fined and face serious repercussions, up to and including termination. Or imprisonment, in which case you'd be forced to wear that orange jumpsuit.

How to get your ass kicked on every day up to and including St. Patrick's Day

Dear God in heaven, I don't believe that color exists in nature. There is NO excuse for wearing either of these ensembles unless you're working as a body guard for the Lucky Charms leprechaun.

In this next one, Your Search For VALUE Ends at Penneys.

As does your search for chest hair.

And this -- Seriously. No words.

Oh wait, it turns out that there are words after all. Those words are: What. The. Fuck. I'm guessing the snap front gives you quick access to the chest hair. The little tie must be the pull tab.

Also, judging by the sheer amount of matching his/hers outfits, I'm guessing that in 1977 it was considered pretty stylish for couples to dress alike. These couples look happy, don't they?




I am especially fond of this one, which I have entitled "Cowboy Chachi Loves You Best."


And nothing showcases your everlasting love more than the commitment of matching bathing suits. That, and a blonde girl with a look on her face that says "I love the way your junk fights against that fabric."


Then, after the lovin', you can relax in your one-piece matching terry cloth jumpsuits:


I could go on, but I'm tired, and my eyes hurt from this trip back in time. I think it's the colors. That said, I will leave you with these tasteful little numbers:


Man, that's sexy.