Ebay.ph sells weird/ugly shit

Miss Diss: Today we have a very special guest to help me rummage for dissable stuff on Ebay.ph.

Mr. D: And FYI, I've got nothing to do with this shit. The only reason you dragged me into this is to make sure someone at least reacts to your pseudo punchlines.

Miss Diss: Screw you. (whimpers softly)

Item No. 1

Miss Diss: You want a pair of short?

Mr. D: Kunin mo nga yung short mo dun sa samapayan.

Miss Diss: Short pants, short pants, short pants.

Mr. D: P130?! And I don't get the design. It looks like those squiggly DNA stuff on CSI.

Miss Diss: Well I can imagine Horatio Caine wearing that. You know, if you stare at it long enough, you'll see a 3D dinosaur pop out of it.

Mr. D: Uhm, not really.

Miss Diss: Okay!

Item No. 2

Mr. D: That's one ugly ass pair of P1,200 shoes. It looks like a dog mangled it.

Miss Diss: No. It looks like a mangled dog.

Mr. D: And check out the product description: "In very good pre-owned condition...very nice!"

Miss Diss: Okay, so if that's nice, then mouldy bread looks appetizing.

Mr. D: It should be called "chaka boots" instead.

Item No. 3

Miss Diss: Feliz Navidad!

Mr. D: Did you really have to?

Miss Diss: I just had to. Sorry. I can imagine a "Take A Bow" Christmas remix, too.

Mr. D: Do you even realize that half of your six or so readers were too young to even remember that matador video?

Miss Diss: And you're not one of them. Anyway! Santa looks drunk, what do you think?

Mr. D: Definitely. Or too much eggnog made him woozy.

Miss Diss: Is it my imagination or does he have this crazy perverted expression on his face?

Mr. D: Like, "Oooh children will sit on my lap! Mwahahahaha!"

Miss Diss: I can picture him saying that with his lengua out.

Item No. 4

Mr. D: So, correct me if I'm wrong, but this person's selling a freaking paper bag?

Miss Diss: Look like it. But it's...Precious Moments. Awww...

Mr. D: And how much is the shipping fee again?

Miss Diss: Sixty-fucking-pesos.

Item No. 5

Miss Diss: This piece of paper's so heeyuge...

Mr. D: ...it can't move!

Item No. 6

Mr. D: Okay, so its product description says: "This gas mask provides you full protection from being attacked by some poisonous gases and smoke if a life threatening emergency happens in public places like hotel, shopping malls, the subway, office buildings, warehouses and the home."

Miss Diss: It's either this: You die of embarrassment wearing some ugly piece of aluminum foil on your head in a public place. Or by wearing that hideous thing, you scare the shit out of the poisonous gases and smoke.

Mr. D: The model looks like he's in hell.

Item No. 7

Miss Diss: Would you want to receive a gift like this?

Mr. D: No.

Miss Diss: Even if it contained real pills?

Mr. D: I think it's a subtle way of telling your friend to overdose on them because he or she doesn't have friends real enough to buy nicer gifts.

Miss Diss: Why's it a "wishing capsule," anyway?

Mr. D: Apparently, they "are very cute capsules that you can write your wishes for someone and give it to them or just put your own wishes on them."

Miss Diss: Okaaay.

Item No. 8

Miss Diss: Sold!

Item No. 9

Mr. D: Dude, this looks really freaky.

Miss Diss: It looks like German Moreno.

Mr. D: Walaaaang tulugaaan!

Miss Diss: Send in the clowns...

Mr. D: Can you imagine keeping this in your room?

Miss Diss: I'd hate to wake in the middle of the night with it beside me—humping my arm or something.

Mr. D: I fear its moving jaw at nighttime. For many different reasons.

Miss Diss: Hey, isn't German Moreno gay?

Item No. 10

Mr. D: I can barely even see the product. But does the chick come with the P999 package? Because if it does, it's a pretty good deal, don't you think?

Miss Diss: Beats me. Hey, look! She's got other pictures, too! "Finally! After 72,134,972 days approaching agents and Photoshopping my set cards, I'm now a product endorser!"

Mr. D: You're so mean, heartless, cruel, and all other words that pop out when you type Shift+F7 on the word "bad." You will burn in hell.

Miss Diss: I will not! I just state my observations.

Mr. D: And your observations are all evil. Picking on people, animals, and inanimate objects. Wait till I tell your six or so readers what you just bought on Ebay.ph. That pink Hello Kit...

Miss Diss: Fuck you, shut up!

Humping horses and stuff

Esteban wanted only one thing from Wind Blown

When I read about the new film about the man who died from shagging a horse, I laughed. And I was dying to know exactly how he fucked the poor animal. I mean, think of the possibilities. If you can't imagine it, then picture gay sex with someone with a printout of Black Beauty over his face. It could go either fucking way!


Of course I should've been more concerned about why he opted to screw an animal over a human—even a person who looks like a horse as long as he/she's got an actual human pee-pee. But sick person that I am and because I'm not bald Dr. Phil, I just had to be more interested in the lurid details. So, I Googled for horse porn and unfortunately, all I found was chicks eating horsecock (oh God, click that at your own risk; NSFW). No photos of men humping horses. And finding my ass (pun intended!) at a dead end not knowing anything more witty to say—which almost always means a retarded denouement—I resort to a Dr. Phil pretenduation (pretend + evaluation).


Society should not frown upon people who fuck animals (as long as it's consensual). It's not as bizarre as you think, as we encounter these kinds of people almost all the time:

Sex with rats:

Sex with anteaters:

Sex with roosters:




And on that note, might as well sex with chickens, too:




Sex with dogs:

Any other animals in mind?

WTF

Not surprisingly, I've had my share of bizarre comments on this blog, which I welcome with open arms and an expectant wallet because having the verbal equivalent of men's underwear being thrown at me is better than having tumbleweeds scurry past my blog.


However! This one, posted on my introductory post at Putanginamo!com, really takes the freaking cake:




I should be flattered that above he-who-should-not-be-named reader (not Ade) thinks I'm pretty despite not having seen my soft and smooth glowing skin, naturally brown, straight and shiny long hair, and that three-fourths of my face is deformed beyond human comprehension. But I'm more thrilled with the idea that perhaps he-who-should-not-be-named reader and I are on the same wavelength or that maybe, just maybe, we were BFFs in our past lives for him to write a post almost the mirror image of one of mine (although reworded a bit awkwardly) only two days after I posted it here. Oh Fate, such a bored and sneaky skank in dire need of some bitch-slapping.

Sam Milby can't deny he's gay

...if his life depended on it.


Oh, Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam. Even if your so-called friends defend you, why can't you deny you're gay? Is it because, good heavens, you do suck cock and like being shagged from behind? Your interview was the most fucking hilarious thing I've ever read since I've re-read my latest blog post. Of the 23,894,320,823,479,123 possible responses to the question "Are you gay?" Why reply with an "I know what I am"? That's just so...gay.


Answering "I'm sure if they did know me, then they'll know that I'm really not" doesn't help either, considering that you never finished the sentence, foo! From that sentence, intelligent people like myself could deduce that you meant any of the following:


"I'm sure if they did know me, then they'll know that I'm really not..."

1) "...straight."

2) "...into vaginas."

3) "...a big fan of KY Jelly because I prefer the kinky feeling of slathering margarine on my anus."

4) "...a spitter. Swallowing love juice is the shiznit."

5) "...Sam Milby. I am Samantha Milby."

Sam is beaming because for a moment, he forgot
he was holding a microphone

Some chick's beach sex scandal

Stiff necks: uncomfortable

I never knew who Daniella Cicarelli was until I heard she had YouTube blocked in Brazil because of her pseudo sex scandal video. With my insatiable desire to live up to my smart-ass image, I did my research on this controversial model and now I know that she was Ronaldo's ex, which is all that really matters because I don't give a jackshit about how good-looking she is, anyway, because: 1) Pretty models with hot bodies are a dime a dozen in the World Wide Web. 2) Her mouth reminds me of Donald Duck. 3) I don't have a penis.


What I don't get, however, is why she's so fucking pissed that her pathetic excuse for soft porn is posted all over the net. Be a public figure fucking your brains out in public (and in open air at that), expect the paparazzi. Better yet, woman, read my first sentence.


If you haven't seen the video yet, don't bother looking for it on YouTube or Google videos. Not only is it not on those sites anymore, but I took the liberty of posting it here for you. Although for chrissakes, don't you dare jack off to my blog, freaking perverts. Besides, it's not porn. At all. However, I must say, that's one effin' lovelyhotfinesmokin' ass. My boyfriend loves my ass, but Daniella Cicarelli ass makes me want to drag my ass to the gym.


Again, no wanking to my blog. Please.

Spreading the love on the net

Reposted from Putanginamo!com (click it to see one-fourth of my actual face, hehe):

Hi, I’m Miss Diss (but you can call me Miss Diss) and some time last week, I left my first ever comment here on Putanginamo!com. And now for some strange reason—thanks to Mr. Obet, good feng shui, and the countless cuss words on my blog—I’ve become one of this site’s guest bloggers.


I (barely) maintain two blogs that don’t acknowledge each other’s existence because I’m weird like that. You can visit one of them at diss-anything.blogspot.com; it’s where I, well, diss anything.


My pastimes include: guesssing blind items, working outside office hours, surfing the net during office hours, watching B horror flicks on TV waiting for kinky-creepy shower scenes, glaring at people who use their call center English accents in public (but can’t translate it to good written English), poking fun at “showbiz” showbiz people who don’t have the balls to admit they’re gay/pregnant/surgically enhanced/untalented/useless to society, ridiculing pretentious artistes who label themselves as “artists” because they think it’s “cool” (but will never admit it), rolling my eyes at URLs and email addresses with the words “cute,” “ganda,” “pretty,” and their equivalents in them, and faithfully sticking to my skin care regimen. Among many others.


So, yeah, that’s all for now.


><"><

Not reposted from Putanginamo!com:

I'd blog for more sites if I could, because frankly, I'd prefer a larger audience to appreciate my arsenal of wit and irresistible charm. Unlike this wretched blog with like .873472 visitors a day and less than a handful of people leaving comments (yeah, that's you, you, and you). So, don't get me wrong, I'm forever grateful to Putanginamo!com for asking me to become a guest blogger. It's just that when I browse the site, I sometimes cringe wishing that the folks over there would be warier of those unsightly typographical and/or grammatical errors, especially considering the huge-ass audience it has. I mean, I wouldn't diss wannabe English spokening call center agents (not all call center people are like that, though, fyi) if I was an English usage ditz.


Holy fuck, did I just diss the blog I'm writing for? Ungrateful bitch! Shit, I'm screwed. LOL!

Toilet dock

Toilet dock, hardeehar, get it?

The official product name is the "Atech iCarta Stereo Dock for iPod with Bath Tissue." It supports most iPod dock connectors and swears to high heavens that it will "enhance your experience in any room with your favorite music from your iPod." I've heard of singing in the shower, but singing while shitting? In any case, I bet it goes perfectly well with the Sudoku toilet paper. I don't know about this doodad, but don't you think it'll be too distracting?


Maybe they should come up with something for Creative digital music players, too, and call it the Creative eBak.

Crazy pipe

Crazy Pipe, not crazy pipe as in crazy mute. Anyway, I don't know how it even became Mark Herras' song, all he did was just dance to it. But I fucking can't get it off my head. Worse, I even find myself unconsciously bobbing my head to it when I hear it—if not imagining myself doing those popular dance steps. Egad!


My theory why the song's so catchy is it was recorded using the backmasking technique. And so with my brilliant tech skills, I played the track backward and lo and behold, I unearthed Crazy Pipe's subliminal message:

"If I don't bob my head to this stupid song, I will become a pansy, similar to the way Rainier Castillo dances. If I don't learn this song's dance steps, Sam Milby will kiss me. On the lips. With tongue. If I don't enjoy this track, Jollibee will point his ass towards my ass and do the ocho-ocho. I choose to have Crazy Pipe stuck on my head because otherwise, holy fuck, it will be Boom Tarat Tarat."

How to be Oyo Boy

It's not as difficult as you think.


1. Have a really ugly-ass name that sounds as though everyone's babytalking you even as they say, "Fuck you, pansy boy [insert ugly-ass name]! I hope 20 million stinky hairy men rape you in the...the nose, muthafucka!" Restrain yourself from adding an "h" in "Boy."


2. Try hard to look as though you're trying real hard to act. Make sure to emphasize the "trying hard" bit. When portraying the role of someone mentally retarded, act natural.

3. Have a dad all your girl friends (young or old) would rather sleep with than you.


4. Have a mom all your friends (young or old, male or female) would love to bang.

Studies show Havaianas don't appeal to the elderly

5. Tell the world that you sleep over at your girlfriend's place—but claim you never wank her. Even if she's this hot:

Toilet paper: reusable

6. Have the balls to split up with your girlfriend. Even if she's this hot:

Hey, woman! You've got toilet paper stuck on your peepee!

6. And last but not the least, when running, exert effort to be a splitting image of this fella:

Yeah, that dude at the right

What an organ!

As I was listening to music on Pandora.com, I checked out the details of the particular track I was listening to and lo and behold...




Thus this sneaking suspicion that this little known band's lead singer is this guy:

Boobies: squishy

Possible tracks of their album include revivals of hit songs such as:
1) Mike Francis' "Let Me In"
2) Michael Bolton's "Can I Touch You There"
3) The Foo Fighters' "Big Me"
4) Dolly Parton's "Islands In The Stream" (heck, don't ask me why)
5) Mike Reno and Anne Wilson's "Almost Paradise"
6) Peter Cetera's "Feels Like Heaven"
7) Foreigner's "I Want To Know What Love Is"
8) Air Supply's "Making Love Out Of Nothing At All"
9) "Torn Between Two Lovers"
10) Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon"