I don't get it. Any of it.

Via Phlegmmy comes the ballad of the Briton who's been busted for boinking a bike.

Now, okay, that is a little freaky, but then you get to this part:

Mr Stewart was caught in the act with his bicycle by cleaners in his bedroom at the Aberley House Hostel in Ayr.

In his bedroom? Assuming that it was an adult, consenting bicycle, what was the crime?

I mean, sure, humping your Schwinn is kinda gross, but gross is what your bedroom is for. Well, and your bathroom. And the dining room table. And, well, pretty much anyplace else in your house as long as the doors are locked and the blinds drawn because, hey, that's pretty much what we mean when we yell "Jeeze! Get a room, y'all!" So now this cat is going to be on the government's official Freaky Perv list for minding his own (well, and his bicycle's) business behind closed doors? Unbelievable...

Moebius stripper.

Note To Self: You know the little trick where you take your bra off without taking off your tee shirt? Don't do that again when you're wearing a long-sleeve tee over a short-sleeve tee or you'll wind up in a tangled mess of Escher-esque non-Euclidean geometry.

CNN is just Your Happy News Source this morning.

1) Don't stand. Don't stand so. Don't stand so close to me. Even when we're just washing dishes.

2) How To Tell If You're In A Cult: If the guy in the pulpit starts buggering five year-olds and claims he's a prophet, it's probably a cult.

Gott in Himmel!

Yikes. Words fail me.

Blog Stuff: Charity begins at home...

...and should probably stay there. Preferably with the shades down and the drapes drawn.

In a statement made through her publicist, Paris Hilton noted that poor Rwanda suffered from serious shortages of bulimia, substance abuse, public indecency, and trashy celebrity behavior, and so she was going there to help.

Be warned that clicking on the following link will make you laugh hard, but only after you've scrubbed your corneas clean with a wire brush: You have been warned.

Books: Not that there's anything wrong with that...

Children's books (or perhaps children) have obviously become far more sophisticated since my curtain-climbing days. For example, I never wondered for whom Gandalf had the hots, and although it was readily apparent that Mowgli was straight, it was in a fairly chaste and Victorian manner for someone who grew up in a cave and ate raw meat with his fingers.

Thanks, Ms. Rowling; I'm sure Dumbledore's sexuality was a burning question in the minds of every twelve-year-old on the planet.

Dainty.

Horrible ramen-flavored burps.

I could just die.

Latest press releases from the Ministry of Too Much Information.

One of the things that happens to bloggers is the occasional tendency to share and overshare alike...

Marko gets a BFA. (Blank-Firing Adapter, for you non gun nuts.)

Joe Huffman plays Fantastic Voyage. (Personally, my rule of thumb when offered anesthesia is to go for the option of unconsciousness. If that's not on the menu, I'll take the closest thing they're offering. I'd have gotten knocked out to get my ingrown toenail fixed if they'd have let me.)