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Wednesday's whinges and wayhays

What’s hot

Hot ass

Hawt

The weather

Well it’s not exactly hot, but at least it’s not so cold that your nipples want to escape back inside your body to where your balls have gone too.  It won’t be long before the lady folk start wearing shoes without socks, and call us old fashioned, but that’s just fantastic.  And barbecues are just tops.  Choons on the choon machine, cold beers and tons of man meat to chew on.  No, wait…

.

Mannequins

Those minxy little plastic ladies whose eyes follow you around the lingerie department.  It doesn’t matter that we’re in the lingerie department without a woman in our life to speak of, those perma-erect nippled beauties don’t judge us like the security guards do.  Plus we saw a documentary once about a mannequin that came to life.  The only draw back was that it looked like the slapper off Sex and the City.

Dogs

Dogs are great.  They’re so loyal that they’ll die with you when you keel over in the kitchen and the neighbours don’t bother to investigate the smell.  They get so excited when you come in and they bark when they see the postman coming up the driveway.  Plus they chat up bitches by sniffing the holes off them, and they invented doggy style.  They are the dog’s bollox.

Ice cream vans

Nothing brings out our inner child like the tinkle of the ice cream van chime.  For a minute we’re so regressed that we run around trying to find mammy so that we can get 50p for a 99.  Remember screwballs?  Remember ice cream boats?  That multicoloured E numbered syrup?  The excitement and adrenaline of having to get to the van before he drove off leaving you at the kerb ice creamless and with a quivering lip.

The new Reebok ad

They probably work about as well as the manly “pumps” we bought from those nice people on the internet who still use our credit card occasionally, but they do make a good point.  Behold.

What’s not

Fat ass thong

Nawt

The weather

Yeah sure, it’s getting better but it won’t be long before the gobshites start wearing their rip off Ray Bans while hanging their arm out of their Fiestas with the Backstreet Boys blaring out of their speakers.  Plus just because we get 17 minutes of sunshine a year doesn’t mean that we have to waste a perfectly good piece of steak on a barbecue by charring the b’jaysus out of it so much that even your dog wouldn’t touch it.

Burger vans

If we wanted to give ourselves dysentery then we’d go and lick the bars in the gorilla enclosure at the zoo.  It might taste a bit better, and people wouldn’t judge us as much either.  Plus we wouldn’t be charged money for it.  Ok, so you have to pay to get into the zoo, but licking the bars is free.  Bargain.

Traffic wardens/clampers

Gingers have more soul and friends than these people.  Plus if you had a line up of traffic wardens and clampers and gingers in front of a woman, she might at least hesitate spitting on the ginger before the rest of them.  We once saw a ginger clamper and it just baffled us why he hadn’t topped himself yet.  True story.

Phone sex

Phone sex lines in Ireland just don’t do it.  The ads make it look like you’ll be talking to a hottie in some underwear or nothing but a light white sheet draped over her lady bits.  Wrong, what you’ll get is a surly housewife who just wants to talk to you long enough so that she can pay for her next batch of eclairs.  Plus our phone bill now resembles what we reckon a handjob off of Jessica Alba might cost.  You don’t need to tell us which one we’d prefer to spend the money on.

By | 14 Apr 2010 | No Comments

Wednesday's whinges and wayhay's

What’s hot

Longer days

Last week we didn’t like the clocks going forward as it deprived us of an hour’s sleep.  Now since we’ve gotten over the jetlag we like that we don’t have to use our headlights at 5 in the afternoon.  Plus the extra sunlight might take that vampire zombie look off of us that we’ve been sporting since Christmas.

Bayonetta

Once again some of us are a little slow to this game, but this is a game about a hot witch who kills angels.  She sucks on lollipops and her clothes disappear when she’s kicking proper ass.  What’s not to love?  Plus the game itself isn’t the most steaming pile of baby vomit ever.  Alright we’ll say it.  We’d love to bayonet her.

Doner Kebabs

The proper ones with half a chopped up little cute lamb covered in chilli and garlic sauce all wrapped up in oven warm bread.  The best thing when you’ve had a feed of beer and even better when you wake up hungry and find the extra one you bought and have it cold for breakfast.

Reading on the toilet

We swear that if libraries had more toilets in them, we’d happily go in there, pick up some WB Yeats and get down to it.  Now we wouldn’t.  Reading The Sun, Front, Loaded and FHM on the porcelain thrown is about as cultured as we get, and because our trousers are already down, we might as well take care of some other business too.  Last time we tried that in the library we got thrown out and put on a register.

The American Office

Reluctantly we got into this as we thought that nothing could top the original, but wouldn’t you know it, it did.  Steve Carell gives tons of cringe worthy moments and the pranks played on Dwight are always priceless.  Shippidy boppidy.

What’s not

No better than half price after Easter eggs?

Gone are the days when we’d go to the supermarket on an Easter Sunday and Monday and find all the left over Easter eggs were down to crazy prices that would make us giddy.  Now, even 6 weeks before Easter and the eggs are cheaper than yer ma.  Our trip to the supermarket on Easter Sunday was met with sad times.  Probably for the best, we got a summons from the court of diabetes.

Ugly feet

The weather is getting a little better and we should be in for a great summer, which is good because the lady folk sometimes like to wear flip flops, sandal type things and anything that will show off their mad pedicuring skills.  There’s nothing lovelier than cute tootsies.  They give us something to look at when the ladies catch us gawping at their chesticles.  Done right it can make us look shy, which the ladies love.  However, bad feet = bad times.  One time we were getting freaky with a lady and decided to go for some kinky toe sucking action until we were interrupted by the question “what are you doing down there?”. Turns out we were nomming a bunion.  The really sick thing was that she was the one who was disgusted.  Sake.

Nice biscuits

Not biscuits that would give the cookie monster a hard on, you know the ones.  Rectangle and plain with the word NICE on them?  My granny even hates these little non nice fuckers and she remembers a time when she used to save her butter vouchers for a packet of decent biscuits.  Give me a chocolate hobnob anyday, or at the very least a chocolate digestive.  Stick those “nice” biscuits right up your hoop.

By | 7 Apr 2010 | No Comments

Wednesday's whinges and wayhay's

What’s Hot

Nice Pert Boobs

Boing

Snow:

So it snowed yesterday and it was just awesome.  Thinking that the world was ending like in a crap movie and that we might have to survive by eating our neighbours is brill.  After all there are one or two of our neighbours that we wouldn’t mind eating, survival or not.

Coddle:

What better way to veg out on the couch with the fire going and the birds out in the trees freezing their balls right off than with a big steaming bowl of coddle?  It looks like albino vomit with sausage skin floaters that remind you of your flatmates used condoms floating in the toilet, but it tastes like just like you’d imagine an angel’s minge would.

Jason Statham:

His movies are so terrible they make you want to gouge out your own spleen with a rabid camel, but at the same time they’re so fucking kick ass that you end up jumping around your living room using the cat as nun chucks.  His accent switches from American to English in a matter of syllables but that’s ok, because we can’t decide if we’d rather be James Bond or some American version of James Bond.  We’re not saying he’s hot in a “OMG, I like get so totally moisht when he takes his shirt off and kicks the ever loving shit out of some Russians”, but the semi we have may need some explaining.

Dante’s Inferno:

Hot demon chick

Click for absofuckingawesomeness

Yes this game has been out for quite a while now, but some of us are only getting around to it now.  Let us tell you this, it has naked chicks in it.  Naked chicks!  One of them is a hot demon chick who can summon demons out of her nipples.  We shit you not.  We think it’s so brilliant that we’ve made up a whole new word to describe the emotion it brings – Absofuckingawesome®©™.

April Fool’s Day:

We don’t need any excuse to switch the contents of the peanut butter jar with the contents of our grannies nappy, but on April Fool’s day we can get away with it scot free.  No judgement, no civil cases, no reason for the victim to get angry, it’s the law.

What’s not

Erm, what the fuck?

We've gone all floppy

Snow:

Pish off you cold, windy, slushy, pipe freezing, eco nut proving cunt.  we had enough of you over Christmas and we were on our way out to buy tshirts and flip flops to wear on Casual Friday.  Snow is the ginger of weather conditions.  No friends and it makes you shiver when it touches you.

Ads on TV:

Every fifteen minutes?  Every fucking channel at the same fucking time?  I have a dishwasher so I don’t buy Fairy cunting liquid at all.  And as for that cunt on E4 who sings about the phones?  We can’t wait for the day that we see him walking down the street cos when we do, we’ll bail out of our van and beat the crap out of him and sing about it in a four part harmony.  Cunt off.  Whoa-hooohoh.

Cold sores:

“Hey there face, how you doing lately?  Looking fine, yeah you’re hot.  Well I just thought I’d pay a visit and fuck your shit right up.  Tingle, pain, throb, scab, bleed, scab, pick pick pick, but I’ll be back again soon.  Sincerely, Herpes.” Well, that’s what happens when we have some blue waffle* for breakfast.

April Fool’s Day:

Check the contents of the Peanut butter jar before applying to your toast.  You’ll thank us for it.  We never had the luxury of a warning.

*We’re not linking to it.  Google Blue Waffle and click the first link you get, just don’t do it in work.

By | 31 Mar 2010 | No Comments

Wednesday's whinges and wayhay's

What’s Hot:

Perfect boobies

Hot

Hooters is coming to Ireland?

What can we say?  Hooters is rumoured to be coming to Cork soon.  Whether it’s fantasy or truth, even the sheer thought of it has us salivating for beer, chicken wings and what’s the other things they’re famous for?  Can’t think, but it’ll come to me soon.  I heard on the grapevine a couple of years ago that the franchise was up for grabs, but people were weary about taking it as waitresses have a habit of suing the restaurants due to the amount of grabbing and pinching they’re subjected to.  Surely it wouldn’t come to that here….

Check them out here, and on Facebook.

Pandemic 2

Everyone here at the Boobiedome is hooked on this game.  Control a disease as it wreaks havoc around the world and kills off everybody.  Move fast before governments close down borders, airports and shipyards and then deploy vaccines to bring your new baby down.  More addictive than crack filled Creme eggs.

Lady Gaga

Nuttier than Squirrel shit.  Her bread isn’t buttered on both sides.  Her lift doesn’t go to the top floor.  And so on.  She’s madder than a brush in rehab, but fuck her if we can’t stop humming her latest choon whenever we hear it.  Plus she’s fit, and cock or no cock we still would.  It actually might make for an interesting story down the pub afterwards.

New South Park

Let’s face it, we mostly watch South Park to see which people they’re ripping the piss out of and to see how far Cartman will go to save face.   The latest sex addict episode was quality as usual.  The simple thing of changing Butters’ name to Bummers was genius.

What’s not:

Not.

Passport strike.

Who do the fuckers think they are?  Yes we booked our holidays months and months ago to get good deals, but we’re Irish for jaysis sake.  Don’t they know that it’s our right to turn up 7 minutes before our plane is due to leave with our tickets in hand panicking for a passport because our auntie told us that when you do that they’ll just hand them over on the spot?  The Irish have a motto when it comes to organising their shit and it goes a little something like this – “Ah, it’ll be grand”. Passport people get yer fingers out.  All other cunts, you’ve had your passport for the last ten years, you know when it’s going to expire so get in on time.  Either that, or you’ll end up with a British passport.

Madagascar

What a shower of cunts.  All we’re trying to do is take over the world with a new killer disease and you go and shut your ship yard down?  You don’t even have an airport?  We’d go over there and give you what for, if we could get a passport.  You’re safe for now.

Pot holes

How hey there local county council, how you doing?  Say, I was just wondering if you’d like to fix that giant fuck off pot hole that’s just caused my wheel to bounce down the road.  No?  You’re spending money painting that bench and trimming the shrubs for the tidy towns?  That’s fair enough, oh while I’m here you don’t mind if I ram my fist so far up your arse that the next time you have a thought it’ll have to tip toe it’s way past my pinky ring, do you?  Wank.  Ers.

Washing

Fuck’s sake.  We can make self cleaning ovens and dishwashers and even women’s vagaine’s are (According to minimal Googling) self cleaning.  So why is it that when we sit around trying to conquer the Russians on the Xbox for more than three days without washing that we end up smelling like a Big Mac that’s been shoved down the back of a radiator, eaten and then puked up by a badger?  Boo-urns to washing.

By | 24 Mar 2010 | No Comments

Number 2 - Paddy's Day special

It’s Paddy’s Day.

Don”t really know why we’re even bothering as you’re all out in the pubs getting ossified, as we should be.  But we care nonetheless.

So here is a Paddy’s day special of the weekly What’s hot and What’s not:

What’s Hot -

hot leprechaun chick

Oh you're giving me a raging shalalee

Shamrock Shakes – These minty green money making gimmicks are the shiz.  We don’t know what it is about them.  Yes they’re green.  Yes they’re milkshakes and yes they taste just as shite as all the other gelatenous gloopy cups of shite they serve all year round.  But one mention of the yearly Shamrock Shake and we’re giddier than a nun on Sunday.

Hot Leprechaun chicks – Halloween brings out the slutty maids, nurses, schoolgirls and mothers.  Paddy’s day brings out the slutty leprechauns.  Girls who dress up for the craic end up falling over and showing their craic by lunch time.  Brilli to the ant.

Beer – A pretty obvious one.  All year round the world jokes about the Irish being alcoholics, but on this day they not only expect us to behave as such, but look to us for guidance.  You can be a raging alcoholic all year round, but today you’re a mega fucking partay animal.

Parades – where else are you going to be able to see every marching band in the world that you never knew existed?  Where else can you queue up for hours just to be subjected to corporate sponsored floats?  The Irish St Paddy’s day parade, that’s where.  Every year we complain about the cheapness of it all and how anti climactic it is, but it must be good, because we still go to one the very next year.

Funny looking girl

Nope, I have no words

What’s not -

Crowds – Jaysis they’re fucking everywhere.  EVERYWHERE!

Tourists – Every other day of the year Americans shout about how proud they are to be Americans, but when our day comes around, they show up to claim their roots quicker than a TD can fuck off somewhere else for the day.

Strangers – We all love everybody on this day, just like we’re all hopped up on candy coated ecstasy tablets that have been crapped out by hippy care bears.  Until they drink all your money and do a runner when it’s their twist.  Fuckers.

Leprechauns – Those mean little cunts with their pots of gold, where the fuck are they?  Last year I chased a midget down Henry street and beat him with a day glow stick thing I caught from one of the parade floats demanding he tell me where his pot of gold was.  He wasn’t even dressed like a leprechaun and he wasn’t even that short, but that’s what happens when the local pub dyes the Guinness green.  Alcohol and E numbers don’t go well together.

Parades – Who are we kidding?  It’s our day and every other country in the world could drop their kaks and curl out a better parade, and they do.

Not that I’m being unpatriotic you understand.

You’re not even reading this, you’re in the pub.  I’m not.

Fuckers.

Happy St Patrick’s Day.

By | 17 Mar 2010 | No Comments

Number 1

What’s Hot:

What's hot boobies

Yeah, that's hot.

Zombieland – Watched this movie the other night on DVD.  Woody Harrelson, some dude that keeps reminding us of Michael Cera and the hot one from Superbad, Emma Stone.  It’s genuinely funny and it’s got zombies.  The cameo mid way through is hilarious, but I won’t tell you who it is.  Watch it, trust me.

Chocolate Pretzels – These tasty little bad boys are out to get you.  Salty sweetness.  Be careful though, finishing an entire bag may leave you open to the strange unknown manly feeling of guilt and shame.

Scarlett Johansson in Iron Man 2 – Red hair?  Leather outfit?  I need say no more.

Flight of the Conchords – Coming to Dublin in May.  This is going to be so awesome that I can find the words to describe just how awesometastic this is going to be.  Actually, that wasn’t bad

What's not

Naw, that's not.

What’s not:

Flight of the Conchords – Tickets sold out in 20 seconds?  Get ta fuck.  How are we supposed to sing along like giddy grannies at a Daniel O’Donnell concert?  Very much boo.

After Shock – Yes, that red or blue or green or black syrupy poison that only seems like a good idea when you’ve pissed away 12 pints and want to impress the young ones who are actually still able to drink it without throwing up all over their own shoes.

That Gillette Ad – You know the one, “Yeah here’s the problem, it’s your blades mate” says the Gillette mechanic.  “Oh man, how did I miss that?” replies the gormless tool.  You don’t need a mechanic to change poxy razor blades.  All you need is a secret stash to use when the missus has used them on her legs and fucked them right up.  Suppose they couldn’t say that in the ad though.

Owl City – I hate this song so much that each time it plays in the rotation of each and every single local and national radio station I want to go on a rampage with the tool kit from my car.  Braining people with the spanner thingy for taking the wheels off.  Causing emotional trauma with the windscreen ice scraper before turning it on myself while TV3 news films the whole thing.  “I get a thousand hugs, from ten thousand lightning bugs”, you should be hugging yourself in a padded fucking room you twat.  “It’s hard to say that I’d rather stay awake when I’m asleep” ,yeah we’re hoping you don’t fucking wake up.  Ever.  Cunt.

By | 6 Mar 2010 | No Comments