Note The Tasteful Use of Empty Bud Light Cans.

If this doesn't constitute animal cruelty, I suspect not much does.

Although, in a "that dog is totally going to kill its owner in the middle of the night" kinda way, this is almost kinda awesome.


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When Cats Say "Fuck You"

You know those stories about cats suffocating babies and throwing up in shoes and biting off the lips of their owners while they're sleeping? Well, I think I know why. And I have photographic evidence.

potato oh no

Here at Ho Hil Headquarters, we are certainly no strangers to potatoes. Julia and I are both proud descendants of the Potato Isle ("au gratin go brah"). I myself have been known to use mashed potatoes as a creamy dip for my french fries, and she is, well, she's about as ginger as you can get without being kidnapped by rogue sushi chefs and served as a garnish. Which is why it pains me to announce that as of now, I will be giving up my starchy past and going cold turkey (and cold cranberry sauce, and cold nothing else). Because the potatoes are sick and tired of us eating them, and they are opening their thousand eyes, and they are moving their slow thighs, and they are slouching towards the produce aisle (not to be confused with the Potato Isle) to start eating us back.

Holy Crappy Costumes, Ghetto Bat-Dude! (Link Fixed)

Ai-yi-yi. This reminds me of the track pants at Walmart with only two stripes down the sides. Or the sneakers at Payless with the backwards swoosh. Or Ashlee Simpson.

Seriously, no matter how well constructed you make these costumes, the best you could possibly hope for is the ever-popular "Batguy" with his famous sidekick "Much Smaller Batguy", or maybe The Flash's shiny-polyester-loving, professional-Mexican-wrestling 5th cousin "El Phosphorescent Burst-o". That is, if you don't opt to dress your kid like the newest member of the KKK's ill-fated and much-maligned Red Ninja Killing Squad. And poor Captain Lustrous-McFly there on the left: I don't even think he's authorized to make official-sounding super hero noises. I have a feeling he's only allowed to shout "KERPLUNK!!" and "POOF!!" and "SWAT!!" while running around with his bad self on Saturday mornings. At least I usually make the effort and throw on a pair of oversized sunglasses.