Archive for May, 2010

A New Angle On Tiger Woods

May 25, 2010

A friend of mine, we’ll call him Bodies42099, has shed some very interesting light on the whole Tiger Woods sex scandal. Why no one else has said this is, simply put, beyond me.

“tiger woods = greatest golfer on the planet and who cares what he does off the course i dont it is his right to privacy so dont judge because your jealous you have a fat cow at home while tiger gets the sweet poon” (sic)(as in, fuggin sick thought, Bro Namath.)

Hope you’re taking notes, Nietsche.


Justin Bieber Naked

May 24, 2010

Now you go right ahead and keep yer damn pants on, guy. There are no, I repeat no naked pictures here of the one they call “Bieber”. However, due to the smash success of Il Biebelino’s latest musical recording, Talvid’s Blog of Shit is getting a shit ton of hits. My guess is, in fact I know, that Bieber-sexuals are feverishly googling the Biebs and accidentally stumbling upon T&DBOS. And we noticed that lately, well, the numbers were sliding a bit. Maybe it’s because the posts have been sucking (impossible), or the popularity of Bielseebub’s 2.0 has been waning (I hope so). What I do know is that you, sick perverted bastard, looked up “Justin Bieber Naked” and happened upon the greatest blog in the history of boykind. And that’s twofold. One, you’ve got loads of awesome shit to read for the next little while. Two, you’re going to jail for the next little while because you looked up naked pictures of a little boy. Shame on you, Pete O’Pheal.

Speaking of Seduction

May 19, 2010

So every afternoon ’round about 4 in the P.M., I get a fuggin’ serious coffee jones on account of spending a whole day masterminding shit and IM’ing with friends and taking coffee breaks. There’s this one place I like to go get my fix. They have all the finest aged java micro-brews and sweetener packets you’ll ever need. But on top of that, there’s this one barista who I like to mindbang. This isn’t some meaningless hot sex ogling either — I can tell from how she wears sweaters that show off the space between her tatties that she and I would get along on a real deeplike level. Romio, oh, Romio. Wherefore art thou? Right here baby, ordering a non-fat, no-foam sugar and spice latte with two Equals.

Anyway, in the hundred or so times I’ve ordered coffee from this girl, she ain’t so much as winked and made a beejer motion at ol’ Uncle Talvid . . . until today.

I do my usual stripper two-step up the counter to place my order. I notice my Barista beloved is batting her baby blues at me. She opens her mouth to speak:
Her: “I like your t-shirt. Who is that?”
Me: “Uuuhhh. Uh, hisnameishtoddrundgren.”
Her: “Sorry, Tad Runcheon?”
Me: “Todd Rundgren.”
Her: “It’s cool. I wouldn’t have thought to wear it with a cardigan, but I like it.”

Then I grimaced, paid, and left.

Life is good.

The Pickup Artist Will Get You Killed

May 17, 2010

According to The Pickup Artist (AKA Mystery, AKA Erik von Markovik, AKA A douche who looks like an idiot), a “guy” who pretends to know about dating and all things getting laid, the act of ‘peacocking’ involves “using a man’s clothing and adapting his behavior in an over the top and flashy manner, for the purpose of attracting women — but not necessarily a mate”.

Hmmm….Interesting theory indeed, but what I witnessed with my own two breast oglers pretty much disproves his idiotic notion. So, Mystery from the Pickup Artist, sure your show was wildly entertaining, extremely helpful (I did finally get laid- by a hooker, no less), and was a ratings juggerhead, but I’m here to say that the act of peacocking is downright dangerous.

Now maybe I’m being too literal about all this, but yesterday I was at the Zoo. That’s not the literal part, so calm the shit down. And at this zoo, the peacocks are allowed to roam freely and basically do as they please. I even saw this one peacock having its way with a cougar. As in, feeling up a human mom well into her 40s with tits like a Nicaraguan orangutan. Anyway, I guess the peacocks at the zoo have become, well, a bit cocky. Somehow, one of the more bold ‘cocks with feathers longer than John Holmes’s dick in length, found its way into a cage with some sweet Sumatran puss. I’ll spare you the gory details.

The moral of the story? No matter how pretty your fancy fathers are, tigers will straight up eat you.
To death.

For reference, here’s a picture of a rhinoceros whose farts you could literally see.

If You Haven’t Seen These Yet, Don’t Bother

May 14, 2010

First off, let Talvid feign an apology for not posting in awhile. We’ve been pretty busy doing things people like you (no offence, but seriously) could never fathom. Imagine getting beejers mixed with skydiving mixed with winning an oscar mixed with buffalo chicken caesar wraps mixed winning the Powerball mixed with beejers once more. Thats what we’ve been doing-ish. Anyway, superfan, we’re still really busy doing shit like that (why would you ever stop, seriously?), so Talvid’s gonna post a bunch of short videos for you to watch instead of wasting his time being your monkey. All of them are primo, and if you beg to differ, your opinion aint valid. Gee-eff-why. Not you mom, you’re alright. JK-especially you.

Apple’s New iMind

May 1, 2010

Talvid is an opinion leader and early adopter. Capri pants, adult scooters, multi-blade razors, chicken-based fast food sammiches — Talvid came, you followed. That being the case-a-rooni, Talvid was invited — personally, by Jobsy — to get a sneak preview of Apple’s new personal computing device, the iMind.

What in the Sam Hill is the iMind? Let me put it this way, it’s like an iPad for your brain. There were some serious flaws with the iPad — the inability to multi-task, lack of Flash capability, no camera capabilities, susceptibility to spooj stains. But those problems have now been worked out and incorporated into an even more user-friendly model (all it took was some simple back-end modding).

Alright, I’ll stop stroking your brainballs and get to the details. Technicians at Apple’s headquarters in Saucealeedo are working on a PDA that connects directly into the user’s brain. That’s right, a 5mm incision is made at the base of the cereal cortex, into which is implanted a chip (they’re still working on the flavors). Before you’re all like, holy shitballs, Talvid, isn’t this the plot of Terminator? let me say this: no. Also, they put microchips into dogs and you can kill one of those lickity split.

So once this chip is in your brain, you can then have all the apps and music and video you want uploaded directly into your noodle. You don’t even have to open your eyes and you can see all the porn you want. Same with apps — you can get all the porn apps you want. Same with music — you can bypass your cocklea and get all the moanin’ and groanin’ sound porn your heart desires. Phone calls, too. Just like the iPhone, the iMind allows you to call phonesex hotlines, but you just have to think about doing it and the call is made. Remarkable. There’s even an ‘autopilot’ function that allows you to surrender all decision making processes to the iMind. You’ll never have to have a sincere non-porn-related interaction with another human being ever again!

This is real. And really groundbreaking. You can read more about the iMind, here, here, and here.