Call of Cthu-Luke

Obligatory Jenny Nicholson Tweet

there's no raining in baseball

You working out there?

Hell yeah, congrats!

A bunny sits on the branch of a tree at night, sipping tea and looking at the full moon. On the moon, another small bunny is visible, also drinking tea while looking back at the bunny on the tree branch

Daily bunny no.3100 is just a branch away

fucking incredible

i think if a sportsplayer does something cool enough the game should be over and they win

I don't know about you, but I plan to Get Chefy With It today

AI still can’t do this

"hang in there, baby"?

am I supposed to be inspired by a kitten holding on for dear life? now I'm just anxious about what awaits him below. crocodiles, maybe

sorry kitten, daddy can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a short message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can

black & white comic panel depicting a sexy, thicc Frankenstein's monster disrobing in 3 different poses - pulling his shirt of his shoulder, seen at an angle; from the front, shirtless, beginning to take his pants off; then almost totally nude as seen from behind. the words at the top read "Strip-tease de Frankenstein..."

have been desperately looking for this old erotic Spanish comic I stumbled on almost 10 years ago called "El secreto de Frankenstein" and I'm so happy to report I finally found it

nice try, this is like when the fae tricked me into giving them my name

an ad that reads "Soaked basement? Don't call Handy Andy" with a water damaged basement and a man, presumably the aforementioned Handy a Andy, a portly gentleman with a somewhat dazed look on his face, pointing with one hand at a slim pink box he holds in his other hand. if it weren't for the home repair context of the ad, I might think it was a dildo or other masturbatory aide in that box. I still might think that

now when you say "soaked basement"...

Cyclops: Logan, what's this I hear about you batting for the other team?

Wolverine: sexuality is a spectrum, bub. my interests run the gambit

Cyclops: don't you mean gamut?

Wolverine: *brushing ace of spades out of hair* no

comedian and 1-800-CALL-ATT spokesman Carrot Top, who has orange hair

a carrot, the leafy top of which is notably green

his hair should be green, like bro have you even seen the top of a carrot?

stock photo of a shirtless man on a beach holding a mirror up to the camera. the reflection is just of the water, but pretend it's you, the girl reading this

9) the girl reading this

blowing kisses so hard they call the cops

the "blown away guy" from an old Maxell ad. he's sitting in a chair facing an amp. his hair and tie are being blown back by the force of the sound, as is a lampshade next to him

some lady: stop

me: *braiding her hair in line at the grocery store* wow rude

LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH LL Slipping out the back, I forget my shoes but remember the bottle. The party’s in full swing. No one will notice. I stumble down the staircase of reclaimed driftwood, onto the sand. Miraculously, I keep my footing. The sound of crashing waves, a mesmerizing static, draws me further down. The water reaches out to meet the night sky, but I can’t say exactly where. Darkness doesn’t have a clear edge. I stop walking when my toes get wet. The two of us used to come here together. Long walks on the beach, sharing whispered secrets and unspoken promises. She would dance into the waves, refusing to leave until I joined her. I can see her now, a little ways out, just up to her neck in the sea. I know it’s not her. I know she’s gone. You could light my breath with a match. I rub my eyes, and she’s still there. Her hair is darker than I remember, matted with seaweed. Her eyes are… hungry. Without hesitation, I take a step, and another. I’d like to dance with her again. A flash of pain in my foot rips a yell from my mouth and the bottle from my hand. It lands with a dull thud, scaring away the crab who pinched me for daring to step too close. Looking up, I barely catch the shimmer of a long, iridescent tail retreating under the surface. I call her name, but I know it’s not her. I know she’s gone.

a Roku remote but one of the buttons is the Kool-Aid logo

view through a window into a yard. the Kool-Aid man approaches, a red blur. he smiles, full of juice and joy. he is coming and there is nothing you can do. he is coming.

oh no

Rain beats at the windows. "Shh shhhhh," I whisper, stroking Freddie Mercury's hair as he cries in my lap. "It's ok, it's just thunderbolt and lightning."

the "oh fuck you're gonna make me come" meme, but she has the hair, hat, and scarf of Lucky the Leprechaun, and the text now reads "oh fuck you're gonna come after me Lucky Charms"

they're magically delicious

69ing with a gilf, call that a parallelogram

I can't just "go big" I'm not Ant-Man

"Sunday Monday happy days"

let me stop you right there, pal

if you're in the front row, wear a poncho or you might get hit with sippies