Miss World Dance Pole Winner Disqualified For "Stripping".

This was recorded at the first Miss World Dance Pole championships in Amsterdam, November 2005.

Elena Gibson from England had initially been declared the winner after this performance, but was later disqualified by the judges for 'stripping' ... because she removed some clothing and her shoes.

Reiko Suemune of Japan ended up being the official declared winner.

EXCELLENT Halloween Lights

Halloween lights synched to music. Located in Griffin, GA. These guys did a terrific job synchrinizing the lights to the Halloween music. This is the most impressive house I have seen for Halloween, Now all they have to do is save the lights, change the purple to red, blue and green, change the music and they will be ready for Christmas :)

Look out, it's a ghetto leprechaun?!??!!!!

What is wrong with people from Alabama? This blew my mind. It must have been a slow news week.

glumbert - What is wrong with people from Alabama? This blew my mind

Abstinence 'Talk To Your Children About Sex'

Here is a funny response to the pro-abstinence talk to your children about sex --psa that has been on TV lately. How could they get kids to say that? This deserves Golden Globes, Oscars, and Latin Grammys!

To The Hottie Cop Who Doused Me With Pepper Spray

I know we got off on the wrong foot, what with my drunken disorderly behavior and my suggestion that as a taxpayer I'm entitled to ask you for a hummer, but I felt like we shared a moment. From what I could see before you squirted pepper spray into my eyes and judo chopped me in the larnyx, your nipples were totally hard. Sure, that could just be a gal enjoying her job, but I think you and I had a connection.

And don't tell me that GI Joe kung-fu grip on my testicles was all business. There was some caressing going on, or at least it felt that way before you crushed them purple. But don't worry, the ER doc assures me at least one of them will continue to produce sperm, which means you and I can have lots of little state troopers together.

So let's not let your job and my occasional lawbreaking ruin a good thing, sweetie. Put down that doughnut and shoot me an email. I know you're not supposed to fraternize with types like me, but I can't lie, a hot chick with a gun and handcuffs gives me a rock-hard boner. And you had your hands down there -- you know this ain't a misdemeanor I'm packing, if you know what I'm saying.

Write back soon, lover. Don't make me break the law again just to see you.

Pennies

Are we done with pennies yet?

Because it is time. The American public hasn’t been using them for about a decade. They have become so worthless, that people give them to each other as a matter of routine. Get your change, pick out the pennies, and leave them there for the next guy. Need a penny or two? Well, there should be a few there for you, because the last guy sure as heck didn’t want his. That’s the game.

I hate when stores don’t want to play by the game. If a store doesn’t have a little tray, I am immediately annoyed. The hell if I’m fishing another dollar out of my pants because it came to $5.02. When that cash register rings up $5.02 and you look at me, we’re fixing to have a long staredown. I’ll return an item before I break another dollar and let you give me three more of those things in return. And that item probably had a profit margin of at least $.03 to you, so who’s the loser now? Get it? As long as they’re still around, you better play by the game.

When there is no tray, my normal routine has become to fish through my change and immediately pick them out and deposit them into the trash. Not only are they worthless, but they are disgusting, and I’m not carrying them around. Most have been in circulation for 20 years, and as the stepchild of your change purse, they have been given no love. They live in ashtrays, parking lots, and huge jars owned by 72 year old men who remember when they were worth something. Old copper is gross enough to start with. Add to the fact that they are covered in gum and crap and filth, and you need to wash your hands every time one touches you.

Think about this: a stamp costs $0.37. 37 pennies weigh 6 ounces. It takes about two stamps to mail 6 ounces of stuff. Therefore, if I wanted to mail someone 37 cents in pennies, it would cost me 74 cents. By my definition, it’s pretty clear cut. When a monetary unit can’t afford to mail itself, it’s worthless. Don’t get all cocky either, nickels……you aren’t far behind. (I don’t really know how much 37 pennies weigh, that was just a guess. I have a scale in my office, and would find out, but I can’t. I threw out all my pennies. Just trust me though…I’m right on this general principal. I know by instinct that they can’t mail themselves.)

Vending machines won’t even take them. They hired engineers to assure that any penny which entered the slot would be immediately routed straight to the change opening. Think about the engineering involved. Dimes, which are smaller than pennies, go right into the till, but they had to create some sort of mechanism that would sort out and eliminate any penny that enters the machine, lest they get involved with the REAL money that is in there, and gross it all up.

Have you ever tried to give one to a bum? Seriously. I almost got in a fight in San Francisco over the fact that I gave a bum some pennies. The man had no home, was hungry, cold, and hopeless, yet when I gave him a handful of pennies, he tried to spit on me. Fortunately, his lack of front teeth seriously affected his aiming abilities and I easily dodged the saliva-based projectile, but nonetheless.

Isn’t this enough evidence for Alan Greenspan and the Fed to say enough is enough? I now summarize my case:

1. Pennies are considered worthless, even by homeless people
2. Pennies are disgusting
3. Pennies can’t even mail themselves
4. Americans are actually giving them to strangers, like some nationwide game of hot potato
5. Vending machines are even too smart to take them. Their job is to take money, not pennies.

Case Closed. Please, Federal Reserve, I beg you. End the game.

I’m done with the pennies.

Muahmmad Ali - How to be a Man 101

I grew up with an abusive father. As most physically abusive parents, his abuse reached an apex when I was younger and smaller. As I grew up and got tall and bigger, the abuse slowed and eventually, when it looked as though I might be able to defend myself, it stopped altogether. This is not a new story.

I'm forty-four years old. The first time I remember hearing the name Muhammad Ali was in Juanuary, 1971, when he fought Joe Frazier in New York's Madison Square Garden. The highly touted "Battle of the Century." I grew up in rural Missouri so the mere sound of the name Muhammad Ali grated on my ear. I didn't know a muslim from muscrat. But I did know this: My DAD hated that "loud mouthed, draft dodgin' black man." And I hated my dad. So I decided I loved Muhammad Ali.

Ali lost that fight. Frazier beat him fair and square. I collect fight films now as a hobby and I've seen the fight a hundred times. Frazier won it. And his monumental left hook in the fifteenth round should be taught in boxing textbooks.

But more to the point, I learned my first lesson in How to be a Man 101 from that fight: lose gracefully. Ali's response to the fight at the press conference, his jaw swollen literally to the size of a grapefruit: "Joe beat me. He's the champion. But I'll be back." Huh? What happened to "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee?" What happened to "I am the greatest?" What happened to "If Joe even dreams he can beat me, he oughta wake up and apologize?" Lose gracefully. And never stop trying.

Some short time later I began to box myself. I joined Golden Gloves. I learned what I could of "the sweet science." I competed. I was never really very good, but I won some. And I kept trying.

In 1972, Ali got his jaw broken in the first round against a former Marine that no one outside of California had ever heard of: Kenny Norton. Ali fought the next eleven rounds with a broken jaw. He lost that fight, too. The pain must have been nearly unimaginable. And the fight (which, again, I've seen many times) was VERY close. Another lesson from Ali in How to be a Man 101: keep trying through adversity. Endure pain. Fight THROUGH the pain. Never let 'em see you hurt. And above all, don't quit.

Later, like Frazier, he came back to defeat Norton twice. Lesson number three: If at first you don't succeed...face your fears AGAIN. If you know you're better than your failure - take it on again and prove it to yourself.

In 1974, Muhammad Ali fought a real-life, living, breathing boogey man: George Forman. A giant of a man that had actually crippled other fighters in the ring. He'd decimated both Frazier and Norton in previous fights. He'd hit Frazier so hard he lifted him four feet off the mat. He'd knocked Kenny Norton asleep. He beat him like a rug the year earlier and Norton didn't wake up until he was in his dressing room. As often as the movies may portray that sort of thing, the truth is in professional fighting it's nearly unheard of.

And now Ali, at 32, way, way past his prime as a pugilist, was facing him on the dark continent - the Congo itself, Zaire. Never in a thousand years could anyone expect to find a more compelling match up between men. Foreman could barely put a sentence together back then - he usually just glared at people if he didn't feel like acknowledging him. Ali, on the other hand, had done the impossible over the past 10 years: he had gone from Most Hated Athlete in America to Most Adored HUMAN on the Face of the Earth. And, of course, he reveled in it. He talked about EVERYthing - tooth decay, racism, boxing, music, magic tricks...anything that caught his fancy. Smiling, laughing, giggling, chortling, merry-making his way through the sweltering pre-rainy season of Kinsasha. Not a care in the world.

Of course, that wasn't true, though. Ali was worried. Years later he acknowledged his fear in an interview with George Plimpton. "I was afraid for my children," he said, "I was afraid if maybe Big George broke my spinal column or something, how would I feed my children?" My God, it's astonishing to think of the fear that must have enveloped him for those three months prior to the fight.

He fought "The Rumble in the Jungle" against George Foreman on October 31st at three in the morning. He gave birth to the "rope-a-dope." He took back his title and knocked Big George to the canvas for ten seconds in the eighth round. He hit him with a series of lightning quick, sniper-like lefts and rights that were almost invisible to the naked eye in their fury and quickness. It was . . . magnificent.

Another lesson: Might isn't always right. Face your fears. Do your best. If you can't go OVER the wall...figure a way to go around it. Think on the spot. Don't be tied to a pre-arranged plan if it isn't working. Fear is sometimes just and only that - fear.

I met him in New York in 1989. Parkinson's Syndrome had changed him irrevocably by then. There was a hint of the old Ali smile. A glimmer in the eyes. I shook his hand in a diner on 37th and 3rd. He had very big hands. I leaned in close to him and said in his ear very quickly - there were many others trying to touch him - "You helped me grow up and be who I am today." He stopped what he was doing (signing autographs and shaking hands) for just a heartbeat, a blink, and looked full square in my eyes. I had tears in them. He said, "Boy, I was something, wasn't I?"

You were.

You are.

Seriously? Operating a table saw at 4am?

Dear Neighbor,

When I went to sleep last night at 11pm. Nay, when I went to bed last night at 11pm I heard, very clearly, the intermittent hammering coming from your basement, 15 feet and a privacy fence away. Can’t say that I was pleased, but I had no idea the Black & Decker nightmare you had in store for me.

I managed to drown out the sound of the hammer long enough to drift off to sleep, alas I was awakened at 4 am by the sound of a… what’s that? No, it can’t be. A table saw?

Sir, I am a general contractor’s daughter and know, make no mistake about it, what a table saw sounds like. I was also able to identify a high-powered (bordering on a dentist’s wet dream) drill you insisted on using when you weren’t busy with the aforementioned hammer or table saw.

And while I am certain it’s not your fault that I left a shoe in the middle of my own floor, I place the blame squarely on your shoulders, fair neighbor, for the gaping head wound (thank you window sill corner) and concussion I suffered when I went ass over apple carts across my bedroom in an effort to find out just what the hell was going on over there. Maybe it’s the concussion, could be the sleep deprivation, but here are the thoughts that went through my mind over the course of the next THREE HOURS (I didn’t call the police because I fear, above all else, turning into my mother):

1. You’re building a dungeon.
Power tools in the middle of the night? Creepy old house? Basement? Tell me did you already have your victim chloroformed in the corner, or are you still just stalking her? And for the record, I will not be putting any lotion on myself or in any basket. And I will eat Precious just as soon as look at her. Period.

2. You’re building a better mousetrap.
Or maybe just the biggest mousetrap EVER. Or quite possibly 9,000 better mousetraps, at the regular size.

3. You’re building a popsicle stick Taj Mahal.
Gentle neighbor (I saw your sensitive ponytail), I think we can all sympathize with the panic that ensues when one has completely spaced a school project due first thing the next morning. But I have to admit that I think using a table saw for balsa wood is overkill. What? Your index fingers and thumbs weren’t strong enough to break the sticks in half? Then I don’t think you have the dexterity necessary to safely use a table saw, drill, hammer or, for that matter, a remote control.

4.You’re building a Y2K bunker.
It’s 2007, I think you’re safe.

But the strangest thing you did was this morning at 8 am. While in the shower I heard you yell at your dog to be quiet. Huh? My conclusions are as follows: You’re a hearing-impaired, insomniac, do-it-yourself imbecile with no concept of irony. This does not bode well for the life of our neighborly arrangement. However, if that dungeon has my name on it, I may have bigger hurdles in front of me than a few bags under my eyes.

New rules for Halloween candy giving

So, I've always really loved Halloween. I remember being very excited about going out to get candy when I was little and I enjoy seeing the small children dressed up in cute costumes. I'm a female in my twenties- it wasn't even that long ago! Sadly, last year, the trick-or-treaters that came to my home killed what little Halloween spirit I had left. I'd like to set up some ground rules for this year (and I direct this primarily at the older trick-or-treaters). Bring it on. I'll be waiting.

No "trick or treat" when I open the door? No candy. This is a very important part of trick or treating. It seems that the older the trick-or-treater, the slimmer the chance of being greeted with this. You see, the "trick or treat!" is just a polite way of saying, "Give me some freakin candy!" If getting dolled up in a costume at your age is still cool, then why don't you just go that extra yard and say it? I doubt it'll damage your rep any more than being 16 and standing on my doorstep in a "dead cowboy" costume.

No "thank you"? I'm reaching in your bag of treats and retrieving my candy, in addition to anything else I can grab.

No costume? Kiss my butt and get off my property or I will shoot you with a potato gun.

Dressed like a "gangster?" How stupid do you think I am? I KNOW you're in your street clothes. Shouldn't you be knocking over a candy store?


To the group of late-teenage(how old were you? 16, 17?) Paris Hilton wannabes that pounded violently on my door AND rang the doorbell simultaneously: Did you ever see the movie "Problem Child II?" There's a scene where the doorbell is rigged to "pleasantly surprise" whoever rings it. I won't electrocute you, of course, but I promise that you won't be able to touch your STD infested boyfriends for a month without giving them an electric shock.

Ask me if you can have more than one piece? No. BUT- you can have zero.

Over 13 years of age? No candy. How about some condoms so I don't have to hand out candy to your own children over the next couple of years? I thought so. Yes, you can take more than one.


:::Sigh::: ahhh. Feels good to get that off my chest. Damn you and your idiocy, all of you trick-or-treaters from last year. Now i'm feeling jaded and disillusioned. I hope the Christmas carolers are serving up something good this year.

Disclaimer: To all of the small children and those rare few that were polite and in keeping with the spirit of Halloween- You can come back this year. I promise you won't be harmed, taunted, or emotionally scarred in any way.

A Simple Lesson for Guys Posting Personals

From Another Guy

First off, let me just say, I’ve been reading through the M4W ads for several weeks now because I find them wildly amusing. Many of my female friends do this as well, and we get a big kick out of some of the things you goobers post!

Here’s the problem: I don’t think most of you are *intentionally* trying to be funny – and that’s just sad.

So, rather than sitting back in the privacy of my home, mocking you and passing judgment, I figure it’s time I put my money where my mouth is and dispense a little “tough love.” Take my advice, or don’t, it doesn’t matter to me either way. In fact, I almost hope you don’t, just because I’d hate for my hilarious leisure reading to evaporate!

Okay, so let’s do this in numbered format, keeping the readability high and the requirement for complex understanding low:

1) Get a woman to proof-read your post. Better yet, get a few! I can’t for a moment believe that ANY woman would let most of these posts get through unedited. Even if you don’t have any women friends, ask your mother or sister, or even the nice folks in the Women’s Forum right here on CL. This ALONE would drastically change the appearance of the M4W board.

2) Include a picture – no exceptions. Look, if you’re not comfortable putting up your picture, it can only be for one of two reasons: Maybe you’re ashamed of the way you look, in which case you’ve got to accept that these women are eventually going to have to see you! Otherwise, what’s the point? It’s this, or I suspect you like your anonymity. I can understand and respect that, but then you probably shouldn’t be posting a personals ad, should you? Either way, don’t be ashamed! Just put it out there and see what happens. If some woman passes you up because she doesn’t like the way you look, then you weren’t going to have a relationship with that person anyway! And if your friends or co-workers see your post and laugh at you, well then the joke is on them, because they were LOOKING!

3) Don’t say you’re looking to meet someone “attractive” or refer to yourself as such. OF COURSE you want to meet someone you’re attracted to, it’s a given. Have you ever seen someone post that they’re looking for someone ugly? As for calling yourself attractive, let the people who get a look at you decide. No matter what you look like some people will find you attractive and some won’t. If you think you’re attractive, great! But there’s really no need to state it like it’s a fact, since it’s not.

4) Learn to use euphemisms. Okay, so you don’t like girls who have a freaking ounce of fat on their bodies, whatever, you’re entitled to your taste. But there are *decent* ways to say this! For example, you might say something like, “I am looking to meet a woman who is active and enjoys the outdoors.” Or you could even go so far as to say that you love working out and you’d like to meet a woman who does too. Things like this imply that you’re looking for someone in good physical shape, without making you sound like a superficial asshole.

5) So you like some freaky, kinky, weird shit in the bedroom. You like to play “daddy” and have your woman tie you up with dental floss. Hey! That’s great! I’m proud of you for being so in touch with your inner freak and I wish more people were too! But look, seriously, you’ve got to SAVE THAT FOR LATER! I mean, wait until the poor girls get a chance to see what a sweet and normal guy you are before you drop the ball-gag bomb on them, okay? People will be surprisingly open to things like letting you model in their thong underwear, or whatever you’re into, once they feel *comfortable* around you. Give it time. If you insist on bringing this to the forefront immediately, because it’s just that freaking important to you, try the “Casual Encounters” board.

6) You like chicks with big boobs. When I read crap like that in posts it annoys the hell out of me. It’s just so damn frustrating, even more so than the guys who insist on only looking for rail-thin emaciated girls or Asian women (What’s up with that, by the way? Don’t be so damn prejudiced, you’re really missing out in terms of diversity!). Look, you like big knockers, you and 99.9999% of all heterosexual men, okay??? Trust me, women know this! But if you kick a girl aside because her mammary glands aren’t fat enough, then you’re just an asshole, plain and simple. I mean, let’s not kid each other, do you have a ten-inch dick? No, you don’t, but women still put up with your ass anyway! This segues beautifully into the next topic:

7) Do not, I repeat: DO NOT tell these women how you’re going to make them cum. It’s idiotic, at best, and it comes across as entirely crude and offensive! Seriously folks, save that shit for L-A-T-E-R! You know, aside from the fact that talking about how much you love giving head or your methods for making a woman have 72 orgasms in a single evening is sleazy, talk is cheap! Sure, women like orgasms, why wouldn’t they? And if you’re a clumsy idiot in the bedroom, it’s a very patient woman indeed who’s going to take the time to teach you. But look, if it ever even gets to that point, THEN you show this lovely new lady friend what a sex-machine-man-stud you are, okay? They don’t want to read about it, trust me! And if you’re just trying to be funny, you’d be much better off quoting Groucho Marx than going there. No joke.

8) Do not, ever, under any circumstances, quote Groucho Marx.

9) Try to tell a little something about yourself without bragging! (You, yea you! Guy who constantly posts a picture of himself leaning against a stupid Ferrari and wearing loafers with no socks – that counts as bragging, buddy!) Just be honest. Do you like the outdoors? Do you have any interesting hobbies that you could share with another person? Maybe you watch a lot of television, and you want someone you can discuss your favorite shows with… Most importantly, just be open and honest! Women dig that shit… Weird, huh?

10) If you are any of the following:
- Currently/chronically unemployed (unless you are independently wealthy).
- Living with your mother past college age.
- Illiterate.
- An alcoholic or hardcore drug addict.
- An avid Yanni fan.
- A fat disgusting slob who eats fast food for every meal, and your ass is fused to the chair in front of the computer.
Then you have no business posting a personals ad! Really, I understand that everyone wants to experience the glorious warm fuzzy gooey feelings of love, but get your shit together first! Do NOT sucker some poor girl with a save-a-jackass complex into your twisted web of idiocy – it’s just plain mean.

Okay, so this covers everything I can think of off the top of my head. Anything I’ve forgotten should be filtered out by simply following rule number one.

One final note to remember: You should not ask for anything in another person that you do not offer yourself. If you want a woman who is in excellent shape physically, then you’d better be hitting the gym regularly too! This applies to nearly every quality you seek in another person. There’s nothing more annoying than a hypocrite, so don’t be one.

Guys, if you’re decent, then there really *is* a nice lady out there just for you, I promise. She’ll even put up with all of your lame and irritable traits because overall she’ll think you’re sweet and cute. You’d be amazed at how many beautiful, charming and brilliant women are single, and nearly all of them complain about how hard it is to find decent available men… It’s appalling, too, because many of them don’t even really ask for that much. Hell, even I’ve found love, a few times, and so can you!