Dear readers, today I'd like to present you with a dire warning: the end is near. Pretty soon the Earth's whiskey reserves will run dry, Rastafarian aliens from beyond the far reaches of space will steal our weed, and some dickhead marketing executive will discontinue all of our favorite varieties of Pop-Tarts and microwavable pizzas. Truly, it will be anarchy in its most brutal of incarnations.
If you're like me and your daily intake of hallucinogens has convinced you that you're skipping through time like some kind of causality destroying chrono-wizard, you may be surprised to learn that tax season ended a few days ago. Now, you probably just broke into a cold sweat at the idea of the IRS auditing you, and the fuckstorm of red tape that comes along with filing your taxes incorrectly, but I'm here to help. I've got a simple six step plan to assure that in the event of an audit, things go as smooth and painlessly as sex with a well lubricated river rock.
Good afternoon, Eyeball Circus readers. The most common question I get from you guys is “Chris, where can I buy an extremely realistic replica of your genitals for reasons that are personal that I don’t care to mention?” Well, after a lot of planning, countless meetings, and one very strongly worded cease and desist letter from the owner of a major adult novelties distributor, all I can say definitively is that you’ll all just have to wait patiently for now. But in the mean time, I still have a responsibility as some dude who writes stupid shit on the internet to show you how to best manage your various nubbins and bits for maximum enjoyment. So, for your sexual benefit, I’m offering you 9 easy tips for selecting the correct sex toy for you. Plus I’m pretty sure I can convince my parole officer that this counts as community service.
Christmas is only a few days away, so if you’re anything like me (a narcissistic kleptomaniac who hasn’t been sober since the 3rd grade) you’re probably only just now realizing you’ve got some shopping to do. Since kids are all needy assholes, your kid is probably expecting something in the way of gifts come Christmas morning, and if you don’t deliver you’re likely to never hear the end of it from your stupid court appointed social worker. Well, like so many judgmental step-fathers before me, I’m here to bail you out of a sticky situation. I’ve already selected everything you need to make sure your child grows up to be a sociopath just like you, because according to my extremely vague grasp on genetics if you pass a trait down to your kid, you no longer have it. It’s like when you started getting sexually aroused by starting fires, your father stopped doing the same thing. Probably.