No, not that kind of rehab!
Something to brighten up good neighbor PoliticalCat, whose bloggin’ hand’s been all stove up this week. Let’s hope it’s better by Caturday.
This is a few days (okay a week ) old but it’s too good not to post. As to the lateness, I can only blame the tardiness and/or complete dearth of local Gorilla Jesus Witnesses. Had any neat-but-modestly-dressed gorillas showed up at my door to tell me the good news, I’m certain I would have linked to Fafblog earlier.
“Gorilla Jesus was created in an accident of mad Jesus science,” says me, “when a test ape launched to earth in an experimental God rocket was transformed by exposure to cosmic Godmotron particles.”
“When the rocket crashed Gorilla Jesus survived with mysterious messiah powers,” says Giblets, “like consubstantiality and hypostatic unity and x-ray vision.”
“He was raised by humble farmer parents deep in the ape heartland,” says me, “but moved to the big city to spread his gospel a peace an love an feces-flinging to all people.”
“And so they tried an convicted Gorilla Jesus of heresy an witchcraft an they sentenced him to death,” says me. “And that’s when the robots attacked.”
As is also evident, this is actually quite timely, since it’s an example of a funny gorilla story that’s actually.. you know, funny … instead of sick and twisted.
An immediate disclaimer: AinsleyofAttack is not currently a dyke, though she is in possession of a dyke-ly past, so the virgotext judges are going to allow her to slide in under the technicality. If I were to warrant a guess at her sexuality based on her writing, I’d say “omni-” might cover it. Anyway… whatever… the woman’s a fucking riot.
Does every tattooed girl need to sit outside eating ice cream? Apparently the gay agenda is to make it impossible for me to ride a bike.
It’s confirmed. During sex I sound like a laundry bag filled with chihuahuas being smacked against a MoonBounce.
Writing a list of resentments for Step 5. So far I’ve gone through ten pages, two pens, and an urge to reenact the prom scene from “Carrie.”
What’s awkward? Explaining to the clerk that you want to pay for the pregnancy test separate from the groceries after he’s called you “sir.”
Child wailing its face off in the snack aisle, if you don’t stop the waterworks Dora the Explorer is going to become a forensics detective.
The line between homebody and shut-in is crossed when you name and alphabetize Goldfish crackers out loud while watching public access porn.
Go forth and follow, you won’t regret it.
I’ve decided this year’s Pride celebration is going to feature another first-ever: The Virgotext Funniest Dyke in the World Contest. Because I love me some funny dykes.
The contest will feature comedians, actors, writers, bloggers, and any other category of humorous lesbos I can scratch up. Reader voting via posts is not only encouraged, it’s downright critical. Vote now, vote often. If you don’t vote, I’ll be forced to turn the whole thing into a totalitarian sham and pick my own winner. (As if such a thing could ever happen in the good old U.S. of A….)
First up, the hysterical and drop dead gorgeous Erin Foley, who’s been tearing it up on this season’s Last Comic Standing. (I don’t watch the show because I find it confusing, but I hear she’s doing well.) Below, her classic “Gay Van,” about her mom’s worst-case scenario for what happens to lapsed Catholic lesbians.