Don’t you hate it when you’re being interrogated by the police and you’re wearing a really inappropriately flimsy tank top without a bra, and right in the middle of your interrogation a baby squirrel pops out from between your boobs?
What sort of unfair angelic higher power is hovering around Simon Cowell such that he gets offered ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY FOUR MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR to sit and look smug on American Idol next season, while I resort to pleading with people on my facebook fan page to notice the ads on The Mock Dock in the hopes that I can make $.000002 in a month?
Because if this is some sort of angelic higher power that I can lease or rent-to-own or put on layaway, I would very much like to get some information about it.
I can’t decide if this is a landbeast or an overly steroidy dude, but either way, I am frightened of him. He looks hungry and freckly and smug. And that is a bad combination, as I’m sure you’re all well aware.
Can you even imagine how much more of him there is below the photo line? Believe me, I would have been happy to show you had the photo not COME to me this way.
Perhaps we should all give a silent prayer of thanks. That we’ve been spared.
Anyone out there willing to stare long enough at this that you could identify the tattoo over this dude’s left nipple (our right)? Because I won’t. I just want someone to tell me what that is, without referencing the fact that dude has a trouser snake attached to a water bottle attached to his calf, so I can move on with my life.
When I look at the puppy, I melt. I mean, LOOK AT THAT FACE. But then I see this poor creature desperately avoiding making direct eye contact with Mischa Barton, and I see how NOT GOOD she looks here, and then I no longer like the picture. I want to look at the puppy, but it requires looking at Mischa Barton. There’s no win-win here.
I know. There’s been all sorts of Important Celebrity Goings-on recently, including Britney going brunette, Kellie Pickler dating Kid Rock, and Kendra Wilkinson getting married and probably all sorts of other crap I care nothing about but typically like to mock, but this is an important day, you guys. I have an annnouncement to make.
Brace yourselves, for what I am about to tell you will require some careful consideration.
An alert and astute mockdocker sent me several photos from the NYC Pride Parade, and this one was one of the more tame ones. I know these are called fanny packs in everyday life, but never has that name seemed as apropos as it does when I look at this photo.
Why must “Pride” mean “Baring Of Huge Amounts Of Flesh” at these parades? I mean, can’t you be gay and proud and clothed?
An alert and astute mockdocker sent me this photo, and I actually really love this dress, but wow – this is just the worst spray tan job EVER. She must have had Lindsay Lohan do it. Either that, or the spray tan technician person HATES Kristin Cavallari.
How do you see yourself in a full length mirror and think this looks ok?
You know what that reminds me of? Remember when Ashley Judd went to the premiere of one of her movies on crutches, and her makeup artist applied really dark foundation to her face and neckular area, but her arms and chest were ghostly white? I loved that SO MUCH.
It’s probably not healthy for me to be as gleeful about those pictures as I am. But I am GLEEFUL about them.