Why Did This Have to Happen in West Virginia??

23 11 2010

As if West Virginia doesn’t get a bad enough rap, now we have THIS story. Where to begin with this one? Apparently, Melissa Williams, an enchanting beauty:

knocked on her estranged husband’s door. (Naturally, they live just a few rooms down from one another at a motel). Her hubby and his friend were inside, knocking back a few drinks, and the stunning Missus Williams asked the gentlemen if they would like to perform oral sex on her. While her husband declined, his friend took her up on the offer until he went downtown and realized that she must have been out of Summer’s Eve. Because he was overwhelmed with odor, the friend refused to make Melissa’s kitty purr, and that’s when things got ugly. Bitch whipped out a knife and told the men ” “Somebody is going to eat my pussy or I’m going to cut your fucking throat.”  Missus Williams is Klassy with a “k”, friends. I really hope, once she serves her time, that she will move to Connecticut or some other state that can handle this sort of headline.


Tradin’ Ass for Asphalt

17 02 2010

Only in the south would a man named Billie Bobbie (can’t make this stuff up, folks) offer to trade a new driveway for sexual favors. But that’s exactly what happened near me this week, when Mr. Billie Bobbie (I’m perplexed by the feminine spelling of the two names) Harrison offered to pave a young woman’s driveway in exchange for oral sex.  Gives new meaning to laying asphalt.

Mr. Harrison, no doubt a person of class and intelligence, had a friend with him at the time, which makes sense if you think about it. Anyone who has driven through a road construction zone can attest, you need one person to do the work while a few others stand around and smoke cigarettes.

Anyhoo, his victim threw up the stop sign and called the police, who arrested Mr. Harrison for whipping out his road cone.

Death By Chocolate

9 07 2009


And I always thought “Death by Chocolate” was just a really fattening dessert:

(CNN) — An employee at a New Jersey chocolate processing plant died Wednesday after falling into a vat of hot chocolate, according to a spokesman for the Camden County Prosecutor’s office.

Vincent Smith II, 29, was dumping raw chocolate into the vat for melting when he fell in from a nine-foot high platform. He suffered a fatal blow to the head from the vat’s agitator, a paddle-like mechanism used for stirring the chocolate.

According to the Camden County prosecutor’s office, three other people were on the platform at the time. One was able to shut the machinery off quickly, but it was too late to save Smith.

The facility, owned by Cocoa Services Inc., is managed and operated by by Lyons and Sons.

The rectangular vat, which was 8 feet deep, 14 feet long and 6 feet wide, was churning a batch of chocolate for Hershey’s when the accident occurred, the prosecutor’s office said. “

What a grisly way to go, but what a story to tell once he gets to the Pearly Gates. If you had to go in a dramatic fashion, what would you choose?


Sawzalls Were Not Made for the Hoo-ha!

11 03 2009


I’ve written here about men who got their junk stuck in jars and people who have gotten produce stuck up their rumps. A year or so ago, a fire department had to rescue a poor fella who tried to screw a picnic table, and ladies regularly visit the emergency room with everything including the kitchen sink wedged into their poontangs. You would think I would be immune to hearing stories about the bizarre things people do to pleasure themselves. But just when I think I have heard it all…something like THIS hits the headlines.

Apparently, a young couple looking to spice things up  brought some items from the toolshed into the bedroom. They fit a…ahem…defibrillator onto the end of a saber saw and went to town. Yes, a saber saw. See where this is going?

Well, those dumbasses didn’t. As fate would have it, the saw made quick work of the phony phallis they had fitted over it. (Imagine that! Who knew a power saw could cut through plastic?) I’ll leave the rest to your imagination, but suffice it to say that the EMT’s arrived to find a very bloody woman with a homemade episiotomy.

So where did this amorous duo get the idea? Well…as it turns out (aren’t you glad I do this research??) any number of online sources sell “F**Kzalls“–all of which appear to be actual Home Depot-issue saws modified for use as a nighstand powertool. There are even movies out there showing such items in use….but it’s between you and Google if you want to see those. The cheapest “F**kzall” I saw was $169.00…and in this economy, who can blame these kids for trying to save a buck.

(Thanks dlisted)

OK, I’m REALLLY Jealous of This Kid

2 02 2009


In a story sure to make all of  us feel like bloated fat asses…doctor’s are crediting a teenager’s abs with saving  his life. The kid, a brown belt in karate, answered the door to his home over the weekend and found a ski-mask wearing hoodlum on the other side.  He tried a little “wax-on, wax-off” shit on the intruder, but he busted a cap in the kid’s ass anyway. According to the news report: “Doctors who treated the teen said his abdominal muscles likely saved his life. Doctors said the intruder’s bullet was deflected enough by Hoekstra’s muscles that it missed his internal organs.”

Meanwhile, the only thing my abs deflect is admiring glances.

R.I.P. Paul Kelly Tripplehorn Jr.

2 12 2008


You’re probably asking, “Who?” Kelly Tripplehorn was an intern for Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, and got his fifteen minutes of internet fame by sending a very nasty email (from his tripplehorny@aol.com email addy, natch) to a fellow intern with whom he had a brief relationship.

“Michele, I am sorry, I don’t care how big of a sadistic fucked up crush you have on me but people like me simply don’t date people like you.”  Is a typical line from the infamous email that got Tripplehorn dismissed from his internship.

In the years since, Tripplehorn founded a ministry, and, we can hope and assume, outgrew his uppity asshole stage. But given the air of self-importance he once had, it’s a bit surprising to me that Mr. Tripplehorn took his own life over the weekend. (I stumbled upon this while surfing the internet this morning–I can’t recall now where)

Two things strike me here…first: that many of the funny stories, pictures, etc. that we all pass from inbox to inbox often have REAL people behind them. And second, it’s remarkable how one instance or act in a person’s life can define, haunt, or follow them.

Thanks to a commenter, we have Tripplehorn’s response to the media hype around the email:I regret that I sent the email, and I did send an apology less than a week after my hate letter. However, since it was from one of the highest-ranking Senator’s office in Washington, and it was during the summer doldrums, the letter ended up taking a life of its own. So much so that I found my name and picture in the media including such outlets as CNN, The Washington Post, and even various publications overseas.

This seminal event humbled me in ways that I did not think were possible. Christ needed to break me down before he was able to build me up again, and he certainly did a glorious job of reducing me to nothing. Here, I learned the lesson of the destructive power of pride and I will never forget it as long as I live.

The second great lesson Christ gave me was that if the media could use me to spread my message of hate throughout the world, then there is no reason why I could not use same media to spread a message of Christ’s love throughout the world.”

Penis Pasta Primavera

19 11 2008

If you thought the Vicar and his potato were bizarre, brace yourself. An Australian man led police on a chase after they discovered him having sexy times with a jar of pasta sauce.


According to the report, a search of his car found pornography, women’s stockings, a home-made sex aid and a Jack Russell terrier. Poor dog.

The alleged pervert, who continued putting it to the pasta sauce as police tried to apprehend him, said he fled police as he tried to make himself “decent.” Yeah, sorry buddy, I think you left decent somewhere between the grocery check out and the time your noodle got “al dente”.

I, for one, will never be able to eat italian sausage over alfredo sauce again.