Treat her right, ya'll

Recently I re-joined the ranks of SLC singles, so I thought for this post I'd find white trash break-up stories or something equally as funny to help with the breakup blues. Instead, I remembered that Mother's Day is coming up, and my friend Kim Frost sent me a truly touching video a few years back that really captures the essence of cherishing our dear mothers. It involves Mr. T, three soccer-mom backup singers, and a slew of horrible acting. Please enjoy viewing this fine production here:



So move over breakup blues. There's no room for sadness as I watch Mr T rap lyrics like, "Mothas. There are no othas."

Well said, Mr. T. Well said.

Just because. I needed something ridiculously cute to look at today. Thanks for the link, Ali!

Hangin' Out in Vegas

The girls and I decided to take a trip to Vegas last September, and just today I received a copy of a cherished photo from that trip. I thought you'd all want to share in this moment of dry heaving with me.

Picture this: four 20-something women, walking down the strip after a long and tiresome day of shopping. Battling the crowds, we made our way back the hotel. But before we reached our final destination, we got a special surprise. There, amidst the chaos, colors and street performers, we saw him. Bare Ass Man. Bass Man for short.

Bass man was leaned up against a railing on the sidewalk, his clothes tattered and worn. Suddenly, upon second glance, we noticed it; his ass. His bare ass. Hanging out of a giant hole in the back of his jeans.


Bass man seemed not to notice or care that his entire back side (and the fact that he doesn't wear underwear) was exposed. He was the antithesis to a never nude, as shown here by Tobias Funke.



Thanks to Lynze Wardle's expert photo skills for so elegantly capturing this Bass Man moment.