Hello there, gentle readers. And hello to you as well, very rough readers, with your giant, oversized muscles and bloody knuckles, frightening the animals and eating the children. Hello to you both.
Before we sign off for the weekend, leaving you to manslate for yourselves for two whole days (after which you will ALL come RIGHT BACK HERE on Monday, and every other day after that, forever and ever, no more discussion, thank you very much) I’d like to just touch on a couple of manslatable news items that I saw this week:
LUNCHTIME BOOBJOBS COMING TO EUROPE
Yep. It’s that easy now. They numb your butt and your boobs, they put some of your butt into your boobs, and over the course of six months they become big. (I’m not a doctor, you understand. That’s a sort of “high-level” description.) Hell, this sounds so simple, I’m probably going to get it done myself.
I almost feel a little bad about something that these women don’t realize as they walk back to work after lunch with their numb butts and boobs. Six months from now when they have their dream rack, they’ll be forced to date the same idiots they were with before. Just with less eye contact.
Here’s the manslation — men do want to have sex with women who have big, fake boobs. However, they also want to have sex with women who have everything else. We’ll probably have sex with you either way, so save your money. Unless you want to be a pornstar or a newscaster — something where it’s important. Then, by all means, go for it.
SEVEN GORED AT PAMPLONA BULL RUN
Yes, that’s right, tragedy struck at the annual running of the bulls when only seven of the morons were gored this year. Even worse, none of the wounds seem to have been fatal.
There is not a more macho-douchebag activity in the world than this one. Come on, bulls. We count on you to keep these walnut-brained primates from passing along their feeble, mouth-breathing genes to yet another generation of domestic abusers. At least see if you can’t catch them right in the ol’ specials with those horns you’re sporting.
Here’s the manslation: “I have chosen to run from enraged bulls because I want women to know that I am brave in the face of dangerous beasts in the wild. Apparently the last 20,000 years of civilization have slipped my mind. Oh, and I have a tiny wang.”
EVA LONGORIA: “NOT NERVOUS AT WEDDING”
Honestly, I’m just glad that this story was reported at all. I spent that whole night alone at home, naked, in the fetal position, praying that she wouldn’t be nervous.
Of course she wasn’t nervous. She’s rich, she’s famous, she’s on a hit show, and she was marrying a superstar athlete. What, is she worried she’s going to trip, fall on her face, scarring her for life, making him not want to marry her, then they fire her from that show, and the hospital bills cost ten dollars more than she has in the bank?
Here’s the manslation: I want to know if the GUY was nervous. Men are about as comfortable with weddings as deer are with hunting. We have a very keen sense that you all have been planning this day since WAY before you ever met our sorry asses. It’s a little unnerving when we feel like you’re eyeballing us to see if we’ll fit into the tux that you already mentally picked out for us when you were, like, eleven.
WITNESS: SPECTOR SAID ALL WOMEN DESERVE A BULLET
Wow. Yesterday in my Manslations for Hillary Duff, I mentioned my great love of famous persons going insane in public. And there’s Phil Spector. Wearing that muppet wig, having to sit there and listen to his friends — his FRIENDS — tell the court how he wants to shoot ALL women.
I think the manslation here is this: If you’re with a guy who says that all women deserve a bullet, he’s maybe not kidding. Unless you’re dating Oscar Wilde*, it might not just be a witty metaphor.
Incidentally, if you ARE dating Oscar Wilde, you might want to make sure you keep your lack of a penis on the down-low. Ix-nay on the agina-vay. Oh, and try not to bring up the fact that he’s long dead. He’ll probably just say something infuriatingly witty about how he’s more alive dead than he ever was while alive. And who needs that nonsense?
Have a great weekend everybody! See you on Monday!
And let’s hear some chatter out there — leave a comment, request manslations, whatever it is! Let me know you stopped by. I know you’re out there, people. I can hear you click.
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