Lindsay Lohan: Where them shapes?

It’s probably something that has been on the minds of more people than not. When would Ms. Lindsay Lohan show us her treats? This wasn’t a question that has been on my mind though. I don’t find her very appealing, especially lately, with all the DUI and coke business. There is something about her stature that never quite struck a chord with me.

Then I saw these pictures right here, where she attempted to be Marilyn Monroe. It finally became clear to me why she never stuck that chord – she has no shape. Look at her. Sure, her breasts are large enough, but look at the rest of her. She is a stick – no curves, no lady lumps; nothing. A big head, with big boobs, rested on a popsicle stick. Like the tower of a castle made in a kindergarten class out of blocks. I just don’t understand the appeal.

Lohan and the Shapes of Doom (2/2008)

The Ladybug…

I sat down to draw a picture of Las Vegas when this ladybug picture came out instead. Go figure.

Highest Quality Fidel-ity

Big news of the day: Fidel Castro steps down from power. Interesting, as I have had this theory that he’s been dead for a while, but his brother is scared to release that information. With this, however, he’ll probably die soon enough anyway. And soon, it’ll be cool for all the trendy kids to wear shirts with Fidel’s head on it. They won’t look as good as my sweet picture though.

And who can forget this? No one takes a dive quite like Fidel.

Can I get a side of Castro with that? (2/2008)

The day of hearts and smiles…

Today is Valentines Day. And that’s no good for anyone.

Dreams from 3rd Grade (2/2008)

“I don’t play the sport, I just wear the shirt.”

I was working at part time retail job the other day when something utterly astounding happened. It was one of those rare times when I actually thought, “I’m going to draw a picture of this douche.” Most other times, I just draw what comes to me at the moment. But this next asshole was planned.

So there I was, standing around with nothing to do, as it was a Thursday night and no one ever comes in those nights. This one kid I work with starts talking to me about sports and I give my diatribe about how I don’t really understand them. He tells me about rugby but not enough to where I can remember it clearly to detail to you.

Hours later, and strictly by coincidence, this younger college student guy walks up to the counter. His shirt says some shit like, “American Rugby” or something. My co-worker gets excited. “Nice shirt, do you play?” The guy looks puzzled. “What are you talking about man?” My co-worker replies, “Your shirt… do you play rugby?”

Here is what he said. “Oh no dude, I got this at American Eagle* or some shit like that.” My poor young co-worker looked defeated, as if someone killed his hamster with a cheese grater.

So this sack of douche walks around town wearing a shirt for a sport he doesn’t give a rat’s cornhole about. What is the point of that? I never understood why people wear shirts for shit they don’t care about. You don’t see me walking around wearing Spider-Man shirt or “President Bush for Life” shirts. I don’t host clothing that means nothing to me.

But that’s what these whacky white fraternity types do though. I see it all the time. Shirts with no relation to their being. I love seeing little kids with shirts like that though. Kids always wear shirts that have no relation to anything really. I always see kids wearing this one shirt that says “Balls!” and has all these different balls on it. Not balls, like testicles, no. Balls like footballs and soccer balls and baseballs. There is also the super-generic child shirt that says, “Sports!” Why do kids shirts always monosyllabic words followed by exclamation points? Life was so simple then.

Fucking Idiot (2/2008)

*I actually can’t remember the name of the store but it did have “American” in it. It’s one of those stores I am too un-hip to shop in.

Search Term of the Week: Draw it Cock!

I’ve decided that the searches people utilize to find me are just too good to keep to myself. So I am going to pick the best one of each week and dedicate a picture to it. People on the internet sure are odd.

Draw it Cock! (2/2008)

Runners Up:

• bikini whores
• spots on tongue
• best anal ever
• this smells really cool
• how not to smell old

Why haven’t you seen Rambo yet?

Seriously, what the hell is your problem? This movie rules. I dare you to find me a movie where the body count of children is ALMOST as high as the deaths of adults. Everyone gets blown up to shit in this movie. Men, women, children, trees, jeeps, leaves – everyone and everything blows up real good here.

“But I don’t want to see Rambo, Sylvestor Stallone is too old.”

So what. So is Harrison Ford, yet your panties are probably wet for the new Indiana Jones movie. And George Lucas is attached to that shit, and that guy hasn’t made a good movie since before I figured out how to masturbate.

Plus, have you ever actually seen First Blood? This was the first of the Rambo films (and by far the best). Like, it’s seriously good. It was so good, it didn’t even need the word “Rambo” in the title. (Check out this sweet video tribute I made for it a few months ago: Click here!)

This new Rambo is more or less the same as First Blood II: Rambo and Rambo III (please don’t ask me to explain the odd title choices and how they don’t make any sense). But with that said, it’s much more serious, less cheesy, and way more violent. Rarely have you seen so many heads explode.

What’s this I hear about Hannah Montana making almost 30 million dollars last weekend? Either there are a lot of pedophiles out there or there is something seriously wrong with this nation. Wait, I guess those two are related. Anyway, put down your 3D teenage glasses and go see Rambo. Just shut up and go do it. You probably shelled out money for one of those wretched Star Wars prequels or Matrix sequels. So why not put your money towards a good movie now?

Caution: Falling Limbs (2/2008)

Mind if I put my rash on your seat?

As any Pictures of Doom enthusiast knows, I love me some Dunkin Donuts. Rarely a weekday goes by where I don’t head to the Double D to get my fix of caffeine and overly cream cheese’d bagel. Even the workers there know me by name and prepare my coffee as soon as I walk through the door, even when I am the last in line. They love me.

They have other “regulars” too. In particular, there is this one lady who is always sitting down at a table. I see her every time I go in there. She is older, probably in her 60s, but I am not here to talk about that. Her gray hair pokes up through the weird hat, but I am not here to talk about that either. She wears these super short shorts every day, no matter the weather, but I am not here to talk about that either.

Okay, maybe I will talk about that last part. The other day, I noticed her get up from her chair and leave. I turned around for a brief moment, caught a glimpse of the back of her legs, and then became baffled at what I saw. Her shorts go about 6 inches above the knee – they are short for someone her age. So I watched her walk out the door and noticed this crazy red rash on the upper half of the back of her legs.

“Ew,” I thought, “wouldn’t you want that covered up?”

The next day, I saw her there again, sitting in the same chair she always does. I think she was wearing the same shorts as the day before, but the back of her legs were actually touching the plastic of the seat.

“Does she still have that rash?” I wondered.

She got up as I waited for my poppy seed bagel and I peeked around as she headed out the door. Sure enough, the rash was there, in full effect, as if she sat on a bunch of cranberries.

“Ew,” I thought, “her rash was touching the seat? What the next poor sap to sit in that chair?”

I started running all of these odd scenarios in my head. Picture this – you’re a girl wearing a pretty short skirt. Under said skirt, you’re wearing a thong. So say you come into this Double D, order some tasty blueberry cake donuts, then sit down in a chair that was preoccupied by a woman and her crazy rash. So your bare bum, protected only by a string, rests upon the plastic on the seat. Will you walk out of this Double D with a rash too?

Why doesn’t this lady wear pants to cover it up?

“Well, maybe the material irritates the rash dude, so stop being an asshole.”

Two Beefy Legs with Side of Rash (2/2008)

Okay, but if you have a rash like that, are you going to travel about town and rub it on various surfaces? I would hope not. But now you know why I always wear jeans. I don’t want someone else’s rash rubbing against me. Not at all.