Fun List Fridays

We Present: Random Lists of Distinctly Selected Items. If you would like to contribute a list, please email us funlistfridays@gmail.com and include your list, list title, and post name in the body of the email. We do not discriminate or edit.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

*IN CASE YOU'VE BEEN LIVING UNDER A ROCK FOR THE PAST FOUR DAYS: I HAVE A MOUSTACHE. HERE ARE SOME ACCESSORIES I'VE CONSIDERED BUYING TO COMPLEMENT THE STASH.

--a fake gold watch
--sideburns
--a copy of Smokey And The Bandit
--gay porn
--bronze tanning lotion
--a "who wants a moustache ride?" t-shirt

*FAMOUS MOUSTACHES IN HISTORY

--Tom Selleck circa Three Men and a Little Baby
--Wyatt Earp
--The Iron Sheik
--Artie Bruno
--Yosemite Sam
--Harcourt Rammathorn
--Vincent Shelli
--Hulk Hogan
--Rollie Fingers
--Hitler
--Your Mom

*POSSIBLE NAMES FOR THE OTHER GUY IN WHAM

--Joel Cunningham
--Javier Sanchez
--Matt Leblanc
--Logan
--Ronnie Awesome
--Billi Curtis
--Roman Belafontie

*PROFESSIONS

--Professional fuck-with-the-passed-out-guy guy. You were probably going to do it anyway, you may as well get paid for it. Maybe you could get a beeper, and this way different parties could page you when its time to draw a sharpie moustache on some drunk kid who passed out with his shoes on. Or a fake cumstain on his cheek if you're feeling adventurous.

--Professional seat saver. God you're sweet. I bet you get invited over for dinner a lot.

--Professional band namer. You love music. Your friends are in a band but you can't play an instrument and you don't want to be a roadie. What do you do? Come up with a band name. If your friends like it you'll probably get in the liner notes. Sweet. Heres one to get you started. "Salmon Flinch". Heres another: "The High Men"

--Professional Blowjob Test Dummy. Not everyone steps out of the womb with the ability to suck the chrome off a fender, sometimes you have to practice. Here, use my dick. And pay me.

--Professional take-the-blame-for-blowing-ass-guy. Man, where was this guy when I was in highschool. Or on the airplane. How many times have you cut a nostril curdling silent poop-poof, and then had to scramble desperately to find someone to blame it on before everyone figured out it was you? A lot, right. Pay this gutsy loser $20 a month and he'll take the heat. Go nuts, shit your pants. He's got you covered.

--Professional Hershey's Chocolate Taster Guy. Is this candy delicious enough? I don't know, I need another taste. Mmh. Pay me.

*RANDY MOSS/TERREL OWENS ONE-UP TOUCHDOWN CELEBRATIONS

--Instead of spiking the ball, fire it at the back of the ref's head. Rooster strut to the sidelines.
--Pull out a sharpie from your sock. Sign the ball to the mother of the cornerback who you just dummied on that slant pattern. Ask him if he could give it to her.
--Take your pants off and vault into the seats. Stripper hump as many middle-aged Midwestern women as you could. Don't return to the field until you have at least $8 in your jockstrap. (Bonus points if you're on the visiting team)
--Spike ball. Pull out cellphone, call opposing Defensive Coordinator and ask him if he saw that catch.
--Spike ball. Force your puntkicker to give you a Shiatsu massage but refuse the happy ending.
--Pull out cellphone. Call your exgirlfriend who has been emotionally unstable since you dumped her. Tell her you're sorry, you were an asshole, and that you still love her. When she says "really?" with joyfull tears in her eyes you say "No biatch, Turn on ESPN," then spike the ball in the cameraman's lense.

*signifies lists written while high on moustache.

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