Someone put this lil acid washed jumper onesie set in the WINDOW...on PURPOSE...to ADVERTISE that it can be PURCHASED...like it's a good thinnnnnggggggggg......<trails off and dies>
Would love some updates from the other side of the pond. Is it happening to you? Paris the genie pants are your fault.
You knew she's do it sooner or later <gack!>
Sourced from Go Fug Yourself.
BE FOREWARNED Midwest, Northwest & South, Acid-Washed Denim is working its way out to you, as much as you wish it would stay dead.
#2) American Apparel "Mineral Washed" ----->
3#) Rhianna on Jezebel.
How do I know it will take?
Well, cuz Rhianna looks kind cute, don't she?
*GACK*
My friend Kenny is a lawyer now, but in past incarnations he's been a contractor, a truck driver, a mechanic and heavy metal guitar player. In short, he knows how to do everything. When Kenny plays Uno, he becomes ruthless and short-tempered. Losing is not an option for Uno Kenny. Because of this unique combination of skilz, I thought it would be nice for him to share some of his hard-hearted, tough love advice from time to time. This is his first entry, in honor of the recent NYC cigarette tax hike.
Brace yourselves, Uno Kenny has a potty mouth.
EPISODE ONE: S**t or get off the pot! (How to stop smoking)
BY UNO KENNY
If you've tried to quit smoking but can't do it, either because you lack the desire or are just generally weak in all respects, I have news for you. You're not alone. You've been hoodwinked, bamboozled, and face-chumped into a self-defeating and ongoing narrative which subconsciously fools you into believing you and you alone are the only person who knows what "this" feels like.
Stop it, already.
The way you have been (and the way that I was) told how to quit has been a cacophonous choir of voices spewing horseshit. I hear the collective consciousness, spoken with a robotic recitation from the foul-smelling maw that each person, including myself, followed shortly thereafter by a tale of great woe about how such collective wisdom had
failed.
To wit:
"I have to quit when my kid is born."
"I have to quit because I'm not getting any younger."
"I have to quit because smoking killed all the men in my family."
"I have to quit because my [blank]-friend hates it."
"I can quit any time I want."
"I don't smoke that much."
"Chew on baby-carrots."
"Get a bag of candy."
"It's not the nicotine, but the physical act that I miss."
"I love smoking."
"My girlfriend's dad has an unopened pack on his t.v. he keeps to remind
him."
"I can quit if I had a quit buddy."
"I can quit if I chew on something else."
"If I quit I get a new [blank]."
"Cigarettes are safe."
"The Lord hates a quitter."
"Choose an activity that's healthy instead."
"Call this number for more information."
"Knit."
"Drink."
"I have to smoke when I drink."
"Jackie Gleason smoked three packs a day and lived to be 70."
"I have plenty of time."
"They're only a few years away from a cure for cancer."
"My friend quit and she, like, gained all this weight."
"Cigarettes taste good."
"You're smart enough, you're good enough, and doggone it, people like
you."
All of it. Bullshit. All. Of. It.
Part One: Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna make a decision. Chances are if you're still reading along, you want to quit. You can't quit and won't quit until you really want to. Not when you really "should", but when you really want to.
Ask yourself this question - Am I a "Lifer"? If the answer to that question is yes, then stop wasting your time with me and go have a smoke, in fact - go have two. If you have answered no to this question, then you have unwittingly made the choice to quit, and are now my slave. If you're not a Lifer, you are a not a smoker. If you're not a smoker, what the eff are you doing? Put it out and get rid of all the paraphernalia associated with it. Yes, including the cute little ashtray your cousin made for you while at summer camp. She's 8, for fucksake, she doesn't remember it.
Part Two: Repeat after me: I'm a non-smoker.
You have to act as-if you are a non-smoker. How you do that I leave to you. I'm the cool type, I don't mind other people smoking, but I don't leave the office to go with them, and I don't let 'em smoke in my house. I don't stop the poker game for em. I don't pause the Tivo for 'em either. Your friends and family wanna smoke that's fine. Who cares? Why should my life revolve around them? It doesn't.
Part Three: You. Do. Not. Take. Credit. For. Quitting. Smoking.
Repeat after me: I am not special.
I don't give a flying shit what your momma says. This is an uncommendable decision on your part. Your friends and family can say nice things to you, like - "Gosh we're awful proud of you Johnny!" Politely say thank you, and let it go. As media-drowned humans, our first reaction is to be the center of attention and the star of the show. If you're the type of person who needs a special "certificate of accomplishment" for this then you have no reason to live. Go keep smoking and die. You're taking up oxygen which is desperately needed by the rest of us. You want a medal? I got your medal, right here! This is not a happy time. This is dour and serious business. Shut up about how badly you want to smoke. Nobody gives a rats ass. People around you will stop asking you how "quitting smoking is going" after about 60 days.
Part Four: Take advantage of every single product in existence to help you quit smoking. The Gum. The Lozenges. The Patch. Candy. Food. Dog Biscuits -- anything. Anything you have to do to keep you from smoking, you have permission to do, unless it harms someone else. I used the patch, then switched to the gum. I use the lozenge now, because I hate having to get rid of the gum all the damn time. I quit over 2 years ago. I still use the lozenges. Why? Because I'm an asshole and I do what I want. It goes like this - I quit, ergo, I do what I have to do to stay quit. If that means a lozenge every 3 hours, so be it. At least I don't smoke like you, fuckhead.
You don't have to be happy about it, or enjoy it. You can if you choose to be (I do reserve the right, though, to smack you upside your head just for being the "cheery type"), but you can be miserable if you want to. Misery means it's working. If you hate it, good. That means you're doing it right. You should not be happy about it. But keep it to yourself. Grit your teeth. Bite your tongue. Cuz I don't wanna hear it.
Nicotine itself is inert, i.e. it's harmless. It's about as bad for you as caffeine. Cigarettes are dunked like a doughnut into unholy chemicals. Ammonia, formaldyhyde, etc. That's bad shit. And it's bad shit that's bad for you, even without the smoke.
The lozenges are about 60 cents apiece. For the good ones. Now, you can get the cheapie store-brand for less, but they taste like ass. Your call. I get 'em in bulk at Costco. Same 60 cent ones for 30 cents. Not a bad way to go when you pop'em like candy.
You can probably get the patch from your doctor. Read the instructions on the box before you buy them. Make sure you're not getting more nicotene than you can handle, or not enough to keep you from losing your shit. By the way -- tell your doctor that you've decided to quit. Maybe he or she has some free shit for you. Drugs are good, m'kay?
To do it on the cheap, get the store brand nicotine gum in the dosage you need. It tastes like chewing a day old filter. However - wrap that bad-chicken in a stick from a Wrigley's Plen-T-Pak and you'll never know the difference. A good cheap alternative.
Cigarettes are gonna be, like, a kajillion dollars a pack someday. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to spend that money on gambling and strippers.
You can buy a shirt of the smoking dog photo HERE
sWARNING! THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART:
I was casually flipping through Gothamist the afternoon, only to happen upon a link to a cheese which was, perhaps, born in my darkest nightmares. Next to the human botfly, this may be the most disgusting thing I have ever innocently happened across...then become obsessed with.
Doesn't look evil, does it? ----->
Courtesy of Wikipedia:
Casu marzu (also called casu modde, casu cundhídu, or in Italian formaggio marcio) is a cheese found in Sardinia, Italy, notable for being riddled with live insect larvae. Casu marzu means "rotten cheese" in Sardinian and is known colloquially as maggot cheese.
Derived from Pecorino Sardo, casu marzu goes beyond typical fermentation to a stage most would consider decomposition, brought about by the digestive action of the larvae of the cheese fly Piophila casei. These larvae are deliberately introduced to the cheese, promoting an advanced level of fermentation and breaking down of the cheese's fats. The texture of the cheese becomes very soft, with some liquid (called lagrima, from the Sardinian for "tears") seeping out. The larvae themselves appear as translucent white worms, about 8 mm (1/3 inch) long. When disturbed, the larvae can jump for distances up to 15 cm (6 inches).[1] Some people clear the larvae from the cheese before consuming; others do not.
*GNAAAAAAAAAARRRRRP.*
On the photo comments page, someone (who I presume to be Sardinian) refutes the bit about eating casu marzu with the maggots still inside.
...and I quote [sic]:
Who Knows how to produce it, doesn,t taste the "crema cheese", until maggotts disappeared. Usually it is given with muggotts to snob people, to laugh at them, when they run away screaming. In the image, if you zoom in, you can observe no maggotts.
I voluntarily classify myself as one of the aforementioned "snob people." I am not sure if eating only the maggot poop and chew juice - but not the live maggots - is a step up or down.
PS:
Whatever you do, DO NOT EMBARK ON A GOOGLE ADVENTURE INVOLVING THE HUMAN BOTFLY. You will never sleep again. I repeat, *GNAAAAAAAAAARRRRRP.* [passes out]
Miracle of miracles.
There is a special brand of Hipster that takes hipstering SO FAR that he or she runs full-on up to the neck into the ugly swamp. I want you to view these (bad) photos as evidence.
ITEM: THIS IS NOT A REDNECK! THIS IS A WILLIAMSBURG 20 SOMETHING on the L TRAIN PLATFORM!!!! (maybe 30-something)
<------It's that guy in the middle, facing the camera
NOTE: The long freakin ironic mullet
NOTE: The ironic "gimmie" hat (that's what my dad calls them)
NOTE: THE FREAKIN' IRONIC USA LEATHER JACKET (it has a huge flag on the back)
NOTE: DIRTY IRONIC AIR JORDANS
NOTE: ACID WASHED IRONIC JEANS! ACIIID WASHEDDDD JEEEEEANNNNNNNSSSSS!!!!!!
The photo quality is so bad becuse I had to fully run after this guy in order to capture the look for history.
"Heh Heh I dress like a redneck, but I went to Brown!" omfg!
ED NOTE: 
I have been posessed by the devil. He made me post a missed connections ad on CraigsList.org.
Help me find him. I should've tackled him on the platform, but I didn't have my wits about me.
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