What do women want? This, baby. Throw in the ability not to backseat drive and you’ve got the perfect man.
From Al Lowe via MasterCowfish.
What do women want? This, baby. Throw in the ability not to backseat drive and you’ve got the perfect man.
From Al Lowe via MasterCowfish.
As promised, here is max‘s biography. Consider biographization to be a meme if you enjoy such things.
Warning: your mileage may vary. We assume no liability. No warranty implied. Before beginning this or any exercise plan, consult your physician. Not intended as a replacement for the advice of a competent professional.
Which, if I’d had access to, would probably have resulted in something a lot less interesting.
max adams: the Pinkertons dossier
Editor’s note: In relating the circumstances which have led to my confinement within this refuge for the demented, I am aware that my present position will create a natural doubt of the authenticity of my narrative. It is an unfortunate fact that the bulk of humanity is too limited in its mental vision to weigh with patience and intelligence those isolated phenomena, seen and felt only by a psychologically sensitive few, which lie outside its common experience. Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only be virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made conscious of them; but the prosaic materialism of the majority condemns as madness the flashes of supersight which penetrate the common veil of obvious empiricism.
max adams is such a phenomenon.
In creating this dossier we have been in constant contact with our offices in St. Petersburg, Istanbul, Silverlake, Ponape, Zurich, Area 51, Abu Simbel, Great Zimbabwe, and of course, Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump. Although facts are few, and expensively won, we have been able to assemble the following biographical sketch.
max adams is the laboratory-created daughter of the frozen sperm of Errol Flynn and pioneering biologist Nicolette Tesla (granddaughter of the famous physicist) who, deprived by the relentless progress of Glasnost of a ready supply of involuntary subjects, was forced to experiment upon herself.
Succeeding beyond her wildest dreams, she gave birth to max, whom she named Erriol in an epidural trance, during which she recited the entirety of The Tempest, with different voices and everything, pausing only to berate the attending doula for her hopelessly provincial dress sense.
max was raised in Tesla‘s mountain fortress to the age of four, when she was taken away by agents of the state to undertake the gruelling process of being schooled for the Olympic ice dancing team.
During a particularly contentious international competition in Bakersfield, California, max defected to the West and since that time has denied all knowledge of the former European Ice Dancing Championship team of Erriol Tesla and Sergey Brin.
She currently lives a quiet life as a night custodian and DJ at Slim Jim’s Crematorium and Rib House hidden deep in the bowels of the the new CAA headquarters, while maintaining a small scientific consulting practice with an exclusive clientele including MIT’s jet propulsion laboratory, Chicago’s Slam Poetry Championship, and Burger King.
~end~
For the pathetically lazy, OCD loser in your life…and yes, we all have one. I would hope it’s relatively self-explanatory, even to them; if not, they’re too dumb to be having sex, even with themselves. They should not be encouraged.
A fine product from lovehoneyUK, via Nerdapproved.
Well, it’s a question. When I was little I used to ask myself what Anne Murray would do…then it became Kate Jackson. Yeah, that’s how old I am!
In any case, men can do a lot worse than to ask themselves: What Would Tom Jones Do? Think about it: rudderless milquetoasts everywhere suddenly become assertive, seductive, sweaty, ice-cool, red hot, and Welsh-American-accented!
“It is not enough to succeed. One’s friends must also fail.”
Oscar Wilde
who really knew what he was talking about.
All the Love in the World
Trent Reznor/Nine Inch Nails
Watching all the insects march along
Seem to know just right where they belong
Smears of face reflecting in the crawl
Hiding in the crowd, I’m all alone
No one’s heard a single word I’ve said
They don’t sound as good outside my head
It looks as though the past is here to stay
I’ve become a million miles away
Why do you get all the love in the world? (x2)
All the jagged edges disappear
Colors all look brighter when you’re near
The stars are all afire in the sky
Sometimes I get so lonely I could…
Why do you get all the love in the world? (x4)
Why do you get all the love in the world? (x4)
Why do you get all the love in the world?
(repeated many times, as if you could ever repeat it enough)