Two Arts for the Post of One!

Titi Goes to the Moon

Baked and a Tofu Flake

I didn't make the top one.

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We are exploring the well-trodden path. We put our faces to the packed dirt to study the flowers blooming in the cracks of the particles floating in the fluid of the eyeball.

Satterwhite

Greetings, ladies and mans. I'm taking a class this semester where we have to read things out loud! So, to help me visualize and make the text more interesting, I've created a character I call

Satterwhite.

And so, now instead of the way Andy reads things in his normal Andy voice, I'll read it like a green man with a square head wearing a t-shirt that says HALF AND HOUR.

we'll see if that makes a difference.

also there is this video...

Feet are Weird

It just looks really weird...

At around 10 seconds you can't really keep track of them and they look like they're flopping around like blap blop bleep bleep bleep blap.

And the person in the blue spikes at around 25 seconds looks like their ankles are drunk.

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Also, burlesque doesn't sound like what it is.

Burlesque sounds like a gathering of rough, hairy mountain men standing on cedar barrels and stumps.

And they're crushing soup cans with their bare hands and bathing the dancing woodland creatures in the cold broth.

There's also chicken bones scattered everywhere.

That's what burlesque sounds like.

New Guy

Hey, so guess what?! Huh? What? Guess what?

Turns out it's kind of important to be able to introduce yourself to people. Particularly when those people are the group of kids at your job that you've been working at for about a week.

You have to introduce yourself to them. And be like, "Hey there! I like...plants!" Otherwise, you just become that long-haired guy who stands and sits around and doesn't say anything in the morning. Who wants to be that guy? No one. No one wants to be that guy.

You especially don't want to be that guy when...

you see a kid about to cry while he's sitting on his little scooter thing that he and the other kids scoot around the gym with, and so you go over to him and say his name and ask him what's wrong, but he doesn't know that you know his name so he slowly scoots his way over to the staff across the gym who he does know.

You don't want to have a crying child scoot away from you while you're asking "what's wrong". Not that I think I could have helped him but...it was really the scooting that got me. It wasn't even the fast way to scoot.  He was facing forward and slowly digging his heels into the gym floor with his arms limply wiggling from side-to-side and inching away from me at knee level on a lemon-yellow scooter.

I wouldn't describe a lot of things as insurmountable or staggering in my life, but at that moment I was thinking, "There is nothing I can do right now to get this child to acknowledge me. This is a task far beyond my abilities and I might as well not be here at all."

Like, imagine that, and then imagine that child, that sniffling scooting child thinking, this guy? What does he want? What? What is he doing? I'm embarrassed for him. He thinks he's some kind of a professional. I'm going to slowly move my plastic square on wheels over to someone who really knows what he's doing.

Or imagine like, a man dragging his way through the sands of a hot desert. His legs have given out and he's about to die of dehydration so he's clawing his way across the dunes because about 100 feet away he thinks he sees a canteen that might have life-giving water. Now, imagine me as a misguided and self-conscious ketchup salesman who happens to spy this man and thinks it would be a great time to practice his sales pitch.

"Sir, would you like to try our new ketchup? It's made from 7 different kinds of vine ripened toma--"

That man's not gonna eat my ketchup! No! He's got tunnel vision but he's still gonna wave me away. This isn't the time for ketchup, son! I should have asked him for ketchup when he was on the plane flying over Arizona two days ago before a flock of geese clogged up the engines.

But I'm not mad. Why would I be mad? I failed at something. Sweet Failure! A truly wonderful thing. Nothing teaches you more than failure. Failure is what learning feels like when it's being hardwired directly into your brain after tearing out all those faulty connections you made while you were sleeping. You were half-awake, half-asleep thinking "I can do anything! I can talk to kids! I can wrestle a grizzly bear on a hot-air balloon! I'm never gonna get a weird painful red splotch on the side of my mouth"

But Failure comes along and is like BLAH-DOW! You just got your self some adjustment and some humble-pie on the side! Be a better person!

Maybe I Was, and Maybe I Wasn't

Folks,

I'm all for believing. In anything. Anything at all. As long as the central part of your belief is that you have taken a good look at yourself and a good look at your surroundings, and said, "I don't think I can go on if this is all there is."

And that's why you have to believe. You have to believe that your current self and the powers you wield are insufficient to produce anything significant. So you believe in something that will. You can't just know it will. That's within your reason, within your capacity. You have to believe it will, you have to hope that what is entirely beyond you and your understanding will turn out right. And the only way to have that hope is to humble yourself. That's why I'm all for believing. Humiliation.

But there are just some things that I cannot believe or accept are worthy of belief.

Here they are:

Number One:  Mako Sharks can never hold electoral office. I can't believe it. My hopes can simply not reside in the idea that an animal so instinctually ruthless and aggressive could ever be elected by literate, adult citizens.

Number Two: Saying that you are going take me out for pancakes one morning is NOT THE SAME as taking a person out for pancakes one morning. It's not. I can't believe that. I can't believe that these lies and falsehoods that certain people propagate equate to the physical manifestation of that claim. Furthermore, I still have no pancakes.

And Number Three: I refuse to believe that the thing of importance is what you look like

when you're doing what you're doing. Instead,

it is what you are doing when you're doing what you look like you're doing!

EXPRESS YOURSELF

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I think the entirety of what I have learned in college can be summed up in the words of Express Yourself by Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd Rhythm Street Band.

Bob Ross vs Justin

My friend decided to experience the Joy of Painting with a video of a Bob Ross that had been modified into a drinking game entitled the Joy of Drinking,  we just wanted the video part, and my entry-level Best-Buy tablet.

Let's see how he did!

First, Bob Ross created this in about 28 minutes.

And didn't even break a sweat...

Justin made this in about 20 minutes and spent the last 8 minutes staring in amazement at Bob Ross's ability to make rocks and bushes appear out of nothing.

Joyful of Painting!

Not the Best

I like the little butt-chin blob thing. It really went downhill from there and I just kept digging it deeper.
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Something I learned from the Enchiridion, in case you haven't read it yet:

The things you can control are opinion, pursuit, desire, and aversion!

Basically, I can't control the functions that produced this drawing. It's beyond my control. The only thing I can control is my expectations and reactions to it!

And when I look at this picture,

I see someone who isn't afraid to lay his cards on the table. Even if, instead of cards, he just has a pile of ham-cubes in his hands.

I see a guy who went on a run today and with about two miles left, he really needed a pit stop! He had to release some intestinal pressure. But he struggled, and clenched, and ran stooped over like a 90 year old man until he made it to the end of the run!

He's got heart, is what I'm saying. And, you know, you only get compliments like that when what you're doing doesn't look pretty but you're dealing with it anyway. And that's noble.

That Blob-man and that Platypus Zeppelin, they've had enough of the Scratchy Line city. They're on a journey to the untamed wilderness. The land of the Exploding Geysers and the Clocks that don't make sense.

They're moving right. That's the important thing. Because on a standard graph or number line, the positive numbers move in the right direction. And they're moving to the right. It's math.

This...this is one of those drawings where--when Internet archaeologists discover it in the Blogger Ruins thousands of years from now, they're going to recreate our entire culture with the clues embedded in this sketch. They're gonna know that we knew how great number lines are. They're gonna know about our struggles with urbanization and our yearning for concentric semi-circles in the sky.
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Make the kind of thoughts your Brain didn't know it would have to make.

The Enchiridion

It's a real thing!

from the Adventure Time Wiki

It's pretty good, too.

http://classics.mit.edu/Epictetus/epicench.html

Flier Time is Here Once More

Some potential fliers I made today for Second City.

Which one would you rather see?

Suggestions? (in regards to the giant building-robot emerging from the inferno of wrath?)

Topical, Coherent, and Organized

You can't tell but this man is wearing a dress.

I really just enjoy drawing faces you guys. Bodies and limbs and fingers and toes are weird and frustrating.

I've made small improvements but I've never said, "Oh, how about I examine the beauty of the human figure today?"

No. It's always, "I'mma just draw a weird face with googly eyes." That's what makes me happy.

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Do what makes you happy. Unlike Orson Trucks. He looks sad. Probably because he is wearing a dress.

Unless what truly makes him happy is looking glum in a ball gown.

Yeah, you're gonna be alright, Mr. Trucks.

Wax and Abundance

I'd like to take a moment and try to appreciate all the time in this new year that will be spent doing absolutely nothing.

I think that when you let your mind wander it does what cats do.

And by that I mean it goes under the bridge by the train station and gets knocked up by one of the many cats there and a few months later plops out a problem you'll have to get rid of which is so correctly named a "litter."

But in brain terms it's a whole lot cooler:

The brain goes off into some ethereal plain where other wandering brains hang out and they bump ideas with each other and later you get the idea that you could build a state underneath Kansas and call it NetherKansas. It would start off as a hole in the ground but then that would turn into a hovel, and then that would turn into a home, and then you invite some of your buddies over and boast about the excellent insulting properties of earth. Pretty soon they're moving in and adding their own chambers and they tell their cool family members about it and before you know it you've got a little neighborhood assembled. At some point, being the progressive-minded mole-people that you pride yourselves on being, you're going to reconfigure the famous John Winthrop's 'City on a Hill' and those philosophical underpinnings are going to provide the momentum for a bustling and Utopian metropolis. It's all so simple.

And you after you think that you'll be like, "Where'd that idea come from?"

Got your brain knocked up on a higher plane from doing nothing.

Two Buckets

Ta-dah!

This is...a thing! That I drew. It's a madduh-peeth. That's like a masterpiece. But, instead, it's a madduh-peeth.

There's a dog with no pupils and the body of a baby wearing a crunchy diaper...

and that's probably the most concrete and identifiable thing in this entire sketch...dang.

I've set the bar somewhere on this one.

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So, what this sketch is about is how--wait, hold on. I'm gonna logic this out.

Oh! I know! I've been reading Don Quixote lately and there is this part where Don Quixote goes up into the mountains and imposes naked madness and exile on himself.

Because that's what all great knights do when they are scorned by their lady loves. But then his squire Sancho Panza is like, "But Senor, you have not been scorned by your lady love. You have no reason to be naked and bang your head on rocks."

And Don Quixote says that this is an even better reason to bang his head on rocks! Because anyone can do that when they've been scorned by their true love, but "The great achievement is to lose one's reason for no reason."

And then the quote goes on, "and to let my lady know that if I can do this without cause, what would I do if there was cause?"

This is for Don Quixote and his ceaseless flow of terrible delusional advice.
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To lose one's reason for no reason. It certainly is a great achievement. But maybe not one worth achieving.

On the other hand, learning and understanding is all about perspective. And to gain perspective, to see something as a whole, you need a certain distance. You have to be able to see everything that the thing is and everything that it isn't. You need to be removed to a degree.

And so, if we want to understand REASON itself (probably a pretty important thing to know), then we can't just lose our reason for a good reasonable reason. Because then reason still has one of its slimy little tentacles on us. The only way to be totally removed from reason is to lose your reason for absolutely no reason. So has Don Quixote stumbled upon the method to achieve truest and purest knowledge??

But, on the other third hand attached to the base of my spine, you can't really understand anything without reason. Understanding and reason go together pretty tightly. It's like how the only way you could understand life is through death and then..well, there you go. Enjoy being smart, deadpants.

I can't really sort that out but the second half of the quote provides some relief.

If I drew this thing without even thinking about it, think about what I could make if I actually put some thought and purpose into it?!

Huh?...it probably wouldn't be too much better.

Blogging!

So, this sketch is, among other things, me trying to figure out how to draw myself in my "cartoon"

""""""style""""""

lots of quotations marks.

The guy on the left is how I was drawing "myself" or the character Slim Pickens because I'm bad at drawing hair.

But more importantly, I didn't think I'd be able to draw longer hair without looking feminine because there aren't a whole lot of other details to indicate something more nuanced like...gender.

I have to leave plenty of room for MASSIVE EYEBALLS! It's a thing, okay? Don't...don't question it.

Also the heavy lines under the eyes aren't supposed to be eyeliner. They're like...weariness lines.

But I think I successfully pulled off the comb-over  thing I do out of habit to keep my hair out of my eyes.. I'll take looking like I have a comb-over over being mistaken for a girl. I can live with that compromise.

Anyway, that's basically what I look like.

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I want to try to make a comic thing in the next few days about a time I was waiting for the bus.

In fact, I realized that I have spent so much time waiting for the bus in my college career, that I might be able to start a series called WAITING FOR THE BUS.

Yes, How to Avoid Stank Mouth is dead. I had other ideas I was going to use about a stank-mouth sensing computer, and whitening, and tongue-scraping, and lasez beams. But that was all scrapped when I saw the chance for VAGUELY AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STORY-TELLINGS!

I don't know why I'm writing all this down. I just want to feel like I've done something.

If you've gotten this far in my self-indulgence I'll reward you with a story.

One time when I was young my dad and I were driving around the JMU campus and it was a warm day and there were a lot of pretty college girls walking around and my dad looked over at me and said jokingly, "This is how we test if you're gay."

And I didn't really know what he meant at the time, so I just laughed nervously, nodded a little, got really quiet and stopped looking out the window...
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If being gay was like being an apple pie, I'd be like a pie with just the crust. You'd go to take a slice of the pie but then the crust collapses to reveal an empty pie tin. And you're like, "Huh. From across the room I could've sworn that was an apple pie." And then the crust is like, "I know! I thought I was an apple pie too! But it's just not in me. You'd think...and I don't blame you for it...but no!"

It's a crazy crazy world.

Sketches and Sandwiches and Rants

Sometimes I'm like...

What if this train is full of bombs?!

But then other times I'm like...

Yeahhhh, PB&J for lunch again!

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And the lesson is, both of these things are equally true or not true. 

It could be true that the train is full of bombs, or even made of bombs, and when it flies off the track it will explode and be very disturbing and a cause for alarm. And a cute journalist will report on it and you'll be watching it on the news and thinking about how cute she is but then you'll be like, "Oh yeah, this is serious...she fine, though. I wonder if she shops at Whole Foods?"

But it could also be true that the train is not full of bombs because that would almost be a waste of perfectly good bombs. Americans don't like trains.

We don't like them because it's too easy to hide bombs on them. That's why we're too afraid to use them. That's why it's a waste of a bomb. Americans don't like trains. We shouldn't fear bombs on them.

By the way, I'm not currently on a train. I was originally using "train" as a metaphor but then I decided to use it literally because. because.

It's also true that I love the PB&J and they make me happy when I eat them every single day for lunch. 

The slide is a metaphor for my esophageal tube. (Not pictured: the giant pile of half-digested PB&J corpses in a pit below the slide)

But it could also be true that I have no reason to be happy about PB&J. There are healthier foods. There are other foods that self-respecting adults can enjoy. 

What kind of grown-man am I getting excited about a mushy sandwich that 7-year-olds can prepare?

PB&J isn't going to lower my cholesterol or start up a retirement fund or pay rent or check on craigslist to see if anyone has a nice lamp that they don't want anymore because nothing adds class to a living room like a nice lamp.

But the point I'm trying to make is that because of all these conflicting truths and not-truths and could-be-truths, we have to make choices about our truths. And for most things, the importance of that truth to us gets its significance from our own confidence and conviction. Because, other than our own choice and reason and meaning-making ability, there's nothing to separate it from anything else.

And so, if what makes ideas important is our own investment and analysis of them, then all ideas that we express should in some way be an expression of ourselves.

It sounds obvious but, for example, if you have a friend and he's always talking about how annoying someone is on Facebook or how annoying all the bombs on all the trains are. That's somewhat important and I can agree with those things but at the same time, why is he making the choice to talk about that stuff instead of how great PB&J is?

Things are important because you make them important. So if you constantly talk about how angry and annoyed you are, that's because you've chosen (consciously or not) to give meaning to those angering and annoying things. That's a reflection on you! And it's not a very far jump from someone who is angered and annoyed to someone who is angering and annoying.

 You could just as easily talk about how awesome it is that the Moon orbits the Earth and that creates tides. And in some areas they use that tidal motion to produce energy so that we can run our microwaves to make buttered popcorn. The Moon makes us popcorn!

THANKS THE MOON!

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Yeah, kid. I think you got it. PB&J are pretty tasty, huh? Outta sight!

Thanks Coolstache Campbell!

Avoiding Stank Mouth Part II

Part I is here.

FLOSSING

Everyone knows how to floss. I'm not going to make a whole post about something that can be taught in three to five seconds.

Take a nylon thread, jam it up between your teeth, slide it around, and then nibble on any of the sweet giblets you pull out. If you get full, store the giblets in your belly-button. These are your body's natural food storage containers. Repeat as necessary.

Flossing is its own reward. I don't need to hype it up or compare it to

...to a disillusioned cop with one too many murdered daughters--cleaning up the seedy streets and dirty back-alleys in the dark city of Mouth-opolis by any means necessary. Just trying, against all odds, to saw through the tartar build-up of fear and hate. If he can't have justice, he can at least have BRUTAL RETALIATION!

NO! I'm not gonna do it!

I'm not going to win you over. It's important. Do it. Enjoy it.

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Instead, I want to talk about my 

TOP FIVE GREATEST MOMENTS IN FLOSSING

No written Internet records chronicle great moments in flossing history. It's time I get the ball rolling.

#5-  Flossing to the Other Side

One time I was flossing after eating an entire tube of meat glue when I slipped and fell into an alternate dimension.

An alternate dimension is a lot like a Chuck. E Cheese. But with ghosts and banshees that try to fly down your esophagus instead of pizza.

A guy with a belly like a hippopotamus came up to me and said...

"Oh, hello. How's about I change into something more- convertible?"

I think he meant "comfortable". But he was already wearing a pair of freshly bleached tighty-whities.

I think he was about as convertible as he was going to get.

And then he

crammed me into his arm pit and I came back to reality. I don't want to talk about that part.

#4- The Root of All Evil

One time I found an entire crumpled up one dollar bill in my molar.

I was like "Alright!"

But then I remembered how earlier that week a guy had dared me to eat an entire plate of money. And for some reason the money was kind of oozing like the person that created it had difficulty drawing piles of discrete objects.

"Why are the dollars sweating?" "STOP LOOKING AT IT!"

And then as my punishment for failing the challenge--I had to eat an entire half-eaten plate of money.

You ever get the food sweats and the money sweats at the same time? I don't recommend it.

#3- Commitment

One time I was about to go on a date with this girl and we were gonna get SURPRISE LOBSTER! Surprise Lobster is when you act like you're just going to get coffee in the early afternoon at a Starbucks--

But then you go get a full LOBSTER dinner! It never fails to impress.

Anyway, I had something stuck in my teeth and I could it feel it with my tongue but I couldn't get it so I started flossing to dislodge it. I still couldn't get it and my gum started bleeding a little bit...

But I didn't stop and I kept flossing and it started bleeding a lot more.

I finally got it and tucked it away in my belly-button but I had taken so long that I was late for my date! I showed up at her place and just as I knocked on her door I remembered the blood so I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. 

I did the ol' Clean-Yourself-Up-With-Spit-And-A-Hand.

But she answered the door and said, "Oh my gosh! What happened?"


I had to play this off extra-cool. I said,

I always finish what I start.

Surprisingly, we had a wonderful date and then she changed her phone number and email.

#2- Self-Reflection

This one is actually true. One time I finished flossing my teeth and my mouth felt really clean. I gritted my teeth and inhaled and I could feel the air passing through my clean set of pearly whites. So I said to myself in the mirror,

"If you made this much of an effort for everything, you'd have a reason to get out of bed tomorrow"

Awww, self. Why you gotta give me a backhanded compliment like that, man in the mirror? Not cool. We're supposed to work together, me and...also me.

I am my own favorite person to mock though.

Haha, it's cuz I'm sensitive and easily hurt by words.

What a rube!

And my #1 Greatest Flossing Moment!


One time in high school I was staying the night at a friend's house and in his upstairs bathroom I saw a container of mint-flavored dental floss. I had never tried mint-flavored dental floss. That first taste was like someone jammed a candy-cane right into my spinal cord...

which sounds painful but I meant it in a good way...and also a kind of painful way.

So I stole it! I stole it out of his bathroom.

And then I saw him at school later and he asked, "Did you steal my mom's dental floss?"

"No. What? No."

And even though it was obvious that I had, you know how some lies eat away at your core? That was the easiest lie I'd ever told. I was completely ready to carry that with me to the grave.

It was a good thing that I stole it! I brought it where it was appreciated. I don't regret it. It's right up there with Robin Hood, the Underground Railroad, and...dolphin...trafficking.

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That's the list!

Post your own greatest flossing moment in the comments, or give me more advice on what I should do with my life, or leave a nonsense comment of approval.

ALL ARE WELCOME!

Another Late Night Sketch

This one is called 'Bee and the Bunch'.

The 'Bee' part is a reference to the big smiling bee with a stupid smile on his gigantic face as he's doing a heel-click kinda move in the air.

The 'Bunch' refers to the chaotic, broken down stuff (and NOSES) that I drew around him. He seems to be blissfully unaware of it all though. Especially since his pupils are going in two different directions.

I think I'm most proud of filling that left hand side with noses.
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Ugh, I really do not like this picture. It upsets me. A lot.

It should upset you too. It's insulting you. It hates you.

Look at that bee! Why is he smiling?

Doesn't he see all the craters and broken rectangles around him? Those rectangles are not in any kind of organized state.

Yet the big ol' big headed bee is like, "My name is Hanson. I like parades and Polish sparkle-sticks!"

We don't have time for those two things that you said! Rectangles! The noses are going to be arriving any second and this place is a mess!

Why isn't he taking any of this seriously?!

Bad job me! I'm going to bed!

Avoiding Stank Mouth

Hello. The following is an uncited, biased, originally-researched, How-To Guide.

Rhetorical Question #1: How many times have you woken up and felt like somebody took some dirty dishes and soiled laundry, soaked them in boiling hot pickle-brine, and let them stew in your mouth for about eight-to-nine hours.

Rhetorical Answer #1: Every single morning. Terrible things happen in your mouth at night. Entire wars are fought in your mouth between the Enamels and the Salivas versus the Plaque and the Acids and every morning, if your teeth haven't melted, the smell of the corpses from the battle is ripe and frothy.

Rhetorical Conclusion!: Before you speak to anything with nostrils, you need to check your Stank Mouth.

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We'll start with the most important step in turning your compost-heap face-hole, into a sparkling minty face-hole.

BRUSHING!

Brushing starts with the brush. You'll want one with all the best features. Things like:

-Bristles

-a Handle

-the color Red

-Maybe one with a hole at the bottom. They cut down on weight and you could probably put a gold hoop through there if you wanted to give it some attitude...flamboyant pirate attitude.

That's all the basic hygiene features. But this Guide isn't just about hygiene. It's about crushing Stank Mouth for good. And that takes dedication. 

Don't just think of your toothbrush as a sword you wield against Stink Goblins.

Think of it as a Battle Cruiser patrolling the Solar System! Vaporizing and exploderating in the name of the Galactic Dental Federation!

It's got thrusters, LAZES BEAMS (pronounced LAY-ZSZZSZ-BEAMZ), a gravy attachment for any gravy you might need, and even Radio Disney!...it's not the best station but that's all the satellite dish picks up. 

Even the coldest, darkest regions of space can pick up Radio Disney. You don't need a receiver. Just listen to complete silence for a few hours and eventually, in the shadow of the ever-lurking presence of mortality, you will hear the faint crackle of Radio Disney.

Right! So now it's time for the paste!

There are two schools of thought concerning toothpaste. There's the Old School and the Right School.

The Old School says you should use a pea-sized globule of toothpaste. This method worked fine back in the Depression days when we had to ration everything to keep women from getting real jobs.

But now, in our progressive and advanced society, we know that the amount of toothpaste used is directly proportional to the amount of clean your mouth becomes. The Right School tells you to go PASTE MOUNTAIN on that brush. 

Another benefit of this method is that your tube of toothpaste will only last about a week or so. That's a good thing. When toothpaste gets more than a month old, it starts to lose its potency. You want your mouth to burn with cleanliness!

We're ready to start brushing.

Open your mouth painfully wide and brush vigorously like an inmate scraping his way out of his concrete cell with the titanium locket he promised to give to his daughter. Won't she be surprised when Daddy shows up in her room in the middle of the night and has to hide in her closet until morning when he can meet up with Giuseppe and make a run for the border. 

BRUSHING!

The key is to get a really good foam going. Don't spit. Just keep letting that foam build and build.

Keep going...

It's a good sign when you've progressed from Rabid Dog to Santa's Beard levels of foam. You're on the right track. Press Onward!

Good brushing doesn't stop at the mouth. Keep going! You can breathe when you're dead.

Almost there....

Perfect! You're done! You've transcended your stink and have become a creature of pure Fluoride Clean.


You can do anything now! You're big and smell like freshness!

Pick on things that are smaller than you.
Laugh at things that aren't funny and then make other people feel bad for not laughing.
Eat things at the grocery store and then yell, "This restaurant is terrible!"
Buy a pile of grenades, write disparaging things on them, THEN TELL NO ONE! It's the secret glint in your smile!

Yeah! Try out for Rugby! It's like Football but for people who can't be bothered to protect their skulls and necks!

You put a scrum in the...gain line...with...scrum...TOUCHDOWN!

Wait...hold on. Is that a baby?

That's definitely a baby.

Get away! Get away now! Call Poison Control before it's too late!

Oh...oh dear. I tried to warn him.

If only Poison Control could've been there to protect the toothpaste from that ravenous baby.

What an adorable tragedy.

They should call it Baby Control. Cuz those babies love eating toothpaste so much.
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And that's the guide. You're probably...

a more useless person...

for having read it.

Show it to your children to make sure they don't grow up better than you!

MORE UPDATES TO FOLLOW!