JEERS to whoever the fuck “boo’ed” my house the other night. I don’t know if you’ve you heard of this new, excruciating Halloween trend, but allow me to explain. Someone leaves a small bag of goodies on your doorstep, then rings the doorbell and runs away. Then you open the bag and inside is a piece of paper that says:

BOO!

YOU’VE JUST BEEN BOOED!

Make 2 copies of this sheet, then make two new goodie bags. Place the sheets inside the bags and get in on the fun by booing two MORE houses!

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You know, I already have to buy candy for Halloween. Now I have to make fucking party favors with a chain letter tucked inside? To whoever invented this idea: FUCK YOU IN THE PUMPKIN HOLE. I hope you slice your own hand off while carving your fucking jack-o-lantern.

There are some people out there who are WAYYY too fucking jazzed about Halloween. They put cobwebs in their bushes, and fog machines outside their doors, and now they apparently are placing mysterious bags on my doorstep filled with useless crap. And demanding I make photocopies. I’M NOT COPYING SHIT. Fuck those people. I’m handing out cock tacos for Halloween this year.

CHEERS to pad thai. With your delightful mound of crushed peanuts and pan-fried noodles, you are a lunch like no other. I know full well Thai restaurant owners must fume when everyone orders this shit, instead of something more authentic. But who can resist such a delight? No one, that’s who.

JEERS to Seth Meyers. I heard Meyers being interviewed on the Simmons podcast the other day, and I swear it was as if Simmons was talking to a fucking lawyer for 30 minutes. How the fuck did this guy ascend to head writer of SNL? Is he someone’s nephew? Is there some sort of comedy writing cabal that only requires you be a Red Sox fan as a prerequisite to join?

Meyers strikes me as the type of guy who will spend 45 minutes talking about what makes something funny, instead of just BEING funny. And I fucking hate people like that. This guy should be working at a fucking bank, or a lobbying firm. He shouldn’t be hosting “Weekend Update”. Would it kill SNL to hire an actual fucking comedian for that role? Jesus.

CHEERS to “Religulous”. Now THAT is some fucking funny shit. You got Bill Maher getting a goodbye hug from a minister who is a “former homosexual” and asking him, “Hey, you didn’t get a fucking hardon just now, did you?”

I liked this flick because it had a firm point of view about organized religion, which would be that organized religion is a nothing more than a bunch of contrived bullshit. It doesn’t bother being all PC and nice and trying to see the other side of the argument. It’s just, “Anyone who claims they know definitively what God is or what he wants out of us, or that he even exists, is a liar and fucking asshole.” Amen to that, brutha.

JEERS to the Steven M. Fanale of Danvers, Massachusetts. Reader Kyle D. points us to perhaps the most deluded and self-aggrandizing Red Sox fan in world history, which is saying a lot. Check out some of the comments Mr. Fanale has left around the interwebs:

I HAVE BEEN DOWN THIS ROAD BEFORE AND BELIEVE ME THIS IS THE PERFECT SITUATION FOR THE RED SOX. THEY WILL NOT ONLY DEFEAT THE TAMPA BAY RAYS BUT THEY WILL GO ON TO WIN THE WORLD SERIES AS WELL. WHEN THE SERIES WAS TIED AT A GAME APIECE THE TEAM THAT WON THE NEXT TWO GAMES WHICH IN THIS CASE WAS TAMPA BAY LOST THE NEXT THREE BECAUSE THEY RAN OUT OF GAS. I AM CONIVNCED THAT THE RED SOX WILL WIN A CLOSE ONE AT FENWAY ON THURSDAY NIGHT AND THEN BEAT THE TAMPA BAY RAYS ON SATURDAY AND SUNDAY. IT WILL NOT BE EASY BUT THE SOX WILL DO IT. I KNOW THAT THEY WILL. TRUST ME, I HAVE DONE IT AS WELL AND I KNOW HOW TO DO IT. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS NEVER GIVE UP AND NEVER PANICK. A CRISIS SITUATION WILL BRING OUT THE BEST IN THE RED SOX AND THEIR FANS KNOW IT. SO SIT BACK AND RELAX AND WATCH THE DRAMA UNFOLD BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES.
STEVEN M.FANALE

“I have done it as well”? But wait! It gets douchier:

If you want to remain World Champions then you should up the offer to Mike Lowell to four years at between 15-20 million dollars a year. Screw the brass! You have the money and you do need Mike Lowell at third base. Call him right now and make the deal. Look at this way we can pay it. Besides if you want to remain a the top then you better spend the money for the right people. I would in your shoes do it because with Mike Lowell you would not have your second world series ring on your hand. I STRONLY URGE YOU TO DO THIS! YOU WILL NOT BE SORRY YOU SPENT THE MONEY ON MIKE, HE WILL CONTINUE TO PRODUCE FOR YOU FOR MANY YEARS TO COME. SO SIGN HIM, THEO. IF YOU NEED TO CONTACT ME YOU CAN REACH ME AT MY HOME PHONE AT (978) 774-5744 OR ON MY CELL PHONE AT (978) 590-9810 AT ANYTIME. THANK YOU
STEVEN M.FANALE

Bonus points to the first KSK reader who calls Mr. Fanale, pretending to be Theo Epstein, and telling him what a great idea he had. Bonus points if you offer him a job on the spot. (UPDATE: Some of you actually did call this guy. Please don’t do that again, lest we finally get sued somehow.) Oh, Steven. You clueless, clueless man. Goddamn Rays. They were two innings away from putting morons like this to bed for the winter.

CHEERS to the new Freedarko book. I don’t really like the NBA. But that doesn’t matter, because this book has lots of pretty pictures and charts. That’s my kinda book.

JEERS to taking so long to get to Monica Belucci, Heather Kozar, Pam Anderson, Amanda Lexx, and Sydney Moon on a Sexy Friday. JUMP INTO BONERLAND.

(more…)

This post contains YouTube videos that may not be safe for work.

Italian DJ Benny Benassi learned a while ago that if you can stick a pair of tits on it, you can sell it. I think the boost to the global economy and the risks of objectifying women cancel each other out, personally. But anyway, Benassi presented this album of house music, Hypnotica, in 2002. The first single off that album was “Satisfaction.”

Below is the original video for “Satisfaction.” Warning: it’s techno. Or electro house. Fuck, like I could tell the difference. Anyway, you only need to watch the first minute or so to get the idea.

Artistic. Original. Ufford would probably bang that red-head, you know, if he was having an off night. Whatever. But surprise surprise, nobody gave a shit about the video. So what happened? Benassi enrolled at the Tits And Ass Institute. With his newfound knowledge in melding the two worlds of business and poontang, he went back to the drawing board and rolled out this motherfucker:

Goddamn, look at that. The double-entendre. The ass. The adherence to safety standards. I think I just built a treehouse in my pants. Oh, and the song went up to No. 2 on the UK charts, while Benassi couldn’t decide whether to drown in pussy or money. He made some more albums, going back to his own playbook when he released the video for Who’s Your Daddy? (NSFW) in 2006.

The moral of the story is that boobies really do serve a purpose in society, and that purpose is to take stuff that wouldn’t gather our attention by itself and make it totally awesome.

“Hey kid, what did the five fingers say to the face?”

In the latest episode of HBO’s Hard Knocks, we learned that Cowboys Jerry Jones is a kindly old patriarch went to the Moe Howard school of grandparenting. I, for one, find great humor in billionaires smacking the snot out of their grandchildren.

That trick works but a few times before the only ones who will fall for it are the feeble-minded and Wade Phillips. As such, the intended victim is wary of the old man’s ways and is reluctant to play along. However, the other kid– perhaps seeing an opportunity to boost his inheritance– is happy to make PawPaw’s pimp hand fly. Geez, all my grandfather ever did to me was get drunk on Stroh’s and tell me to pull his finger.

[ thanks as always to gentleman farmer Awful Announcing for the clip and to the inimitable LSUfreek for the picture ]

Baby, I want you to do something for me this Sexy Friday. Something wild. Something crazy. Something extra double sexy.

Baby, I want you to leave your top on.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Well, that doesn’t sound so sexy. What’s more sexy than me taking my top off, you crazy man?” Baby, you have to understand. Don’t get me wrong. You have got yourself a gorgeous body under that tight sweater of yours. And there is nothing that dazzles me more than when you take that sweater off and take me on a magical ride to Toplessville.

But just this once, just tonight, I want you to leave that top on. I want to preserve the anticipation. I want to preserve the mystery. I want to preserve the excitement. I want to preserve the adamantium rod in my pants. By all means, go ahead and take everything else off. Except the shoes. The shoes have to stay. In fact, change out of those shoes and put on the heels.

Oh yeah, that is most sexy.

There’s nothing sexier than a bottomless woman. Because she’s still dressed, but god dammit she is still pretty damn NAKED. It’s like Christmas Eve and Christmas Day happening all at once. Or, if you’re Jewish, it’s like…. Well, I can’t place the Jewish equivalent. It’s like a bottomless Emmanuelle Chriqui, which I have not seen yet, but hope to see very soon.

So leave your top on tonight, baby. There’s something so sexy about you leaving that top on. It’s makes the fact that you have no pants on so, so, so much naughtier.

And that’s all I ask for on a Sexy Friday.

Yeah, this is pretty esoteric f’n weird– which is why I’m posting it at this hour. If you’re still awake now, you probably like freaky stuff like this. On the other hand, if you’re reading this later on, then you’re probably pretty pissed off. Sorry ’bout that. Look at the bright side… we’ll have cheerleaders later today. No foolin’, mister.

What an absolutely shitty day from top to bottom. One of those days where you think you’re hung over, but no: you are actually bona fide sick. Nothing goes right. People are assholes. It’s hotter than two cats fucking in a wool sock and you worked through lunch.

Well, at least it’s Sexy Friday. Better late than never, I say. Looks like the ‘Skins cheerleaders are in fine form for the Hall of Fame Game:

Welcome back, NFL. You beautiful bitch.

Can you believe KSK used to be one of those pussy-ass narrow blogs? Sad but true. But we’ve seen the light, and it’s coming from a web page that uses the full width of the monitor.

Let’s get one thing clear: if your blog doesn’t have widescreen pictures, your blog SUCKS. What, you think people are gonna check out what you have to say because you can form cogent arguments with high-minded prose? WRONG.

Give the people what they want: BIG PICTURES. OF BIG TITTIES.

Examine, please, Sexy Friday’s Exhibit B:

If this picture were smaller, you wouldn’t be able to see the hole from her absent navel piercing, and this additional piece of information from the greater detail enlightens further discussion: Does the Tampa Bay cheer squad forbid belly button rings while the girls are in uniform? It would certainly seem that way; most squads have similar rules that require makeup over any tattoos.

So lemme get this straight. They have to wear tight, revealing clothing that showcases their bodies and enhances their cleavage while they perform sexy dance moves… but no navel piercings! Why, that would take away from their demure image! “You know, I bet most of these girls are bankers or lawy–OH MY GOD! Is that a belly button ring?!?! GET OFF THE FIELD WHORE!!!”

Everyone knows Wednesday is the night for makin’ love. But we at KSK have decided it is our mission, nay, our DUTY, to make the whole week as erotic as humanly possible. And that starts today. After an intense bonerstorm, the six of us have decided the day of Friday is in desperate name of rechristening.

People, it is time to turn FRIDAY into SEXY FRIDAY.

From now on, all references to Friday shall now be changed to Sexy Friday. Thank god it’s Sexy Friday. Sexy Friday Night Lights. Sexy Friday I’m In Love (probably with another man). Freaky Sexy Friday. Good Sexy Friday. Sexy Friday 12, starring Mike Epps.

I’ve had enough of these drab, unsexy Fridays. You’ve worked hard all week. You’ve busted your ass at work time and time again. You don’t even have any NFL football to look forward to. Just seeing some dopey cheerleader poon to look at is simply not enough. You need to be SEXED UP. And you need to let everyone around you know that, from now on, FRIDAYS ARE FOR SEXINESS. Your girlfriend:

Her: Can we go to a movie tonight?

You: No, it’s Sexy Friday. Now put on this ass bra and take me to the Casbah.

Your boss:

Her: Before we break for the weekend, we have to have a status meeting at 5:45.

You: Fuck you, bitch. You had all day to status. It’s Sexy Friday now. That means it’s time for you to bust open your blouse and give my peepee a promotion to Chief Executive Boner.

Your mom:

Her: Hi honey! Just calling to see how you are.

You: Don’t call me on Sexy Friday, Mom. I’m in the middle of masturbating to this old episode of STUDS on the Game Show network. Spandex miniskirts give little Jimmy here a Sexy Friday flauta.

Your children:

Them: Dad, let’s play catch!

You: Fuck you, kids. It’s Sexy Friday. Go to bed right now so I can throw your mom over my shoulder and go can reclaim my manhood.

Telemarketers:

Her: Hi, I’m from Verizon.

You: Oh, yeah? Can you hear me now? It’s Sexy Friday, and I’ve got a fist full of Lubriderm. We can talk all night, sweet child.

Chicks At The Bar:

You: Can I buy you a drink?

Her: No.

You: Looks like your spending Sexy Friday alone with your butterfly clip-on vibrator then, lady. Give me your fat friend’s number. I’m gonna make a splash at her box office.

You have your marching orders, people. Go home, pour a drink, put some of those Trader Joe’s spanakopitas in the oven, toss on a Jimmy Cliff CD, and circle your lady like a preying cougar. SEXY FRIDAY is here to stay. And to get your Sexy Friday started, here’s Brooke Richards, with a little Laetitia Casta tossed in.

Boner voyage.