Sunday, December 27, 2009

Glamour shot of the day

And you thought you had a shitty Christmas. Just look at the combo of that broke down tree plus those shitty dolls. This bitch is obviously trying to overcompensate for having a loser husband, and also for being a boring ass Christian.

Today's blog is...

brought to you by Lisa Sellers. When it comes to pigging the fuck out, Lisa does not play around. Plus, her "command" of English is off the charts. I'd like to order an emergency analysis of "her" home plumbing.

Anyway, Lisa is an American pig of the highest order. On a "bad" day, "she" might consume over 30,000 calories. I would not advise leaving small children and / or cars in her presence.

Thanks Ben

Every so often...

I come across something, and I have to decide, "too fucked up" or "go for it." I'm going to make a "special" exception for the following post, mainly because of the massive amount of tranquilizers I'm on holidays. If you didn't hate me before, then we're probably going to have a problem.

My "only" comfort is that 99.9999% of you can't afford or are too retarded to ever challenge me with some down home litigation. Anyway, enjoy the Lord's goodness and fuck off!

It really takes...

a special pig to get my attention these days. As most of you know it's more common than not to run into a super sow. Well, a fan of Trash Heaven was trying on wigs at Good Will, when he came across this monster pig fucking up a gallon of ice cream barely hanging on a waffle cone.

As I've mentioned many times, I live in fear of being caught in the act of capturing hoggetry (the ancient art of being a pig) at its finest. Well, this person was actually busted. He was focused in on the sow, and her methed out "friend" spotted him taking a pic. I'd like to take my ankle boot off to this brave soul for catching this beast in her natural habitat, not many of us exhibit this kind of bravery.

Thanks Andrew

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Talk about some...

really fucked up shit, this makes a threesome with Terri Schiavo, JonBenet and Stephen Hawking look really apple pie. I'd like to dedicate this absolute fuckery to all the Jesus freaks that lobby for the restriction of the availability of birth control.

If you're broke fucked up trash, don't have a goddamn baby. You cum guzzling pigs are fucking killing me!

Thanks Frank

I've been dropping...

hints for months and months about getting one of these adorable recliners. This shit has to be Cindy McCain and John Collins' wet fucking dream. No matter how fucking pilled out you are or how many bottles of champagne you've bonged, this shit can always get your drooling ass up and around.

As some of you know, I'm a HUGE fan of any and all cloth furniture, especially sectionals and recliners. There is no better way to store decades and buckets worth of human fluids. Sometimes I have nightmares where I'm drinking buckets of brown water left over from steam cleaning cloth furniture. I always wake up with a massive boner, or at least I think, its hard to tell with all the fat it's trapped in.

Thanks Nate

If you're like...

me a total shit house house rat and fucking miserable and I pray to all the pharmacies that you aren't, then you're just creaming your dump pants over the goddamn holidays.

Christmas proved to not be as painful as in years past. But I prepared with half a bar of Xanax and a "few" glasses of champagne, before I watched my siblings partake in their yearly celebration of Christ orgy of consumption.

A certain member of my family kept going on an on about how we were going to "keep it simple" this year. I think we need to reevaluate just what the fuck "simple" means, because it turned into a material blowout with cash spraying from the rafters, all paid for on credit I'm sure. It's the American "way."

Anyway, the day after Christmas is going down in history for some intense DDs (debilitating depression). At first it wasn't so bad, and then the restlessness kicked in. I did some yoga and drank some chamomile tea was "forced" to take half a bottle of pain pills and wash them down with Vodka.

I know you pigs are like, "get to the fucking point, you goddamn sad pig bitch." So, here is the point, from now on I'm going to focus on "celebrating" the special pigs in my life, and not just obsessing about hooking them up with the perfect gift, covered in the sweat of the slaves child workers that made it.

In this spirit, I'd like you all to enjoy this video below. It's the sweetest goddamn thing I've seen all year. Pay special attention to the 0:18 mark. God bless and may the year to come billow with TRASH goodness!

Thanks Angela

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Glamour shot of the day

There is nothing like an 80s Christmas whore to really get the holidays started. You can tell that this slut loves to do some serious baking. According to my "sources," her secret ingredient is chunks of feces from her acrylic nails.

I'm not sure about your family, but this is such a "special" time of year for mine. I'm working on a few new official slogans for Christmas.

1. Christmas: Bankrupting the Middle Class for over 6 decades.

2. Christmas: A really shitty reason to forcibly encounter all the morons you spend the rest of the year avoiding.

3. Christmas: That special time of year when pigs' try to cover up those painful emotional scars with cheap bullshit from overseas.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Today's blog is...

brought to you by this adorable pig and former member of the female gender. I had the pleasure of running into this sow at a truck stop in Oklahoma. You might be asking yourself, "what the fuck is this sick bitch doing in Oklahoma?" I actually went to buy some retards for my torture chamber for "work."

Anyway, I was cracked the fuck out on a diet pill and needed to pull over to piss in the sink use the ladies' room. And on my way in, I saw the fucking monster above, who also happened to catch me taking pics. I played it off like I was answering the phone and said my usual, "sell all my shares."

Well, on closer inspection of the denim tubes (jeans?) covering the mounds of fat extending from "her" hips to the ground, I happened to notice a slight discoloration on the rear of jeans. I decided to pig the fuck out at the Burger King inside the truck stop, all the while fighting back an erection as mayonnaise dripped down my chin. I daydreamed about the fabulous life we could share together, one filled with endless amounts of questionable anal hygiene.

I consider myself an expert in all varieties of stains. According to my "sources," this stain was most probably fecal in nature with just a splash of urine. I'm going to start ordering a cocktail with a similar description,"...and I'll have the usual, some vodka with just a splash of shit..."

Blowing your pants up is right up there with being a Mormon on the scale of embarrassing shit. I do feel as if I've let all you skanky pigs down by not providing a profile pic, but at that point I was fighting for my life. But once I made it inside, I was put at ease by the fabulous selection of Native American "art" on display. And by Native American, I really mean it was made by small children in China. Gas station "collectibles" are a great gift if you'd like the recipient to seriously contemplate suicide. They also help weigh trailers down during tornadoes.

I was really...

crunk a few nights ago. I was "forced" to take some pain pills to treat my desperate unrequited emo love for my back and "accidentally" washed them down with vodka. It was all a horrible "misunderstanding."

So, the next morning I was digging through the empty pizza boxes and pill bottles on my bed looking for my phone so I could check my email. I finally found it under a poem titled Sad Pig, that I'd written in melted butter and mascara tears the previous night.

Anyway, I had a ton of emails from iTunes, thanking me for purchasing a bunch of shitty songs. This shit happens to me all the time, but I barfed some Xanax chunks through my nose when I came across a certain purchase. Apparently, in the depths of my darkest hours, while blacked out (time traveling), I'd purchased the new Susan Boyle album.

What the fuck is wrong with me? This definitely counts as a White Trash Weekend Confessional (WTWF). I've been a big supporter of this sad pig since she did the splits on that shiteous tv show. What's worse, my Susan Boyle confession or my love of Amy Grant?

Did you happen to see the pics from her most recent meltdown? She was mobbed by a bunch of fans and resorted to sucking her thumb to deal with the situation. That's my kind of nutty pig. Get it bitch! God, I love Brit Trash!

I had just...

dropped my family (yes, I have one, but they hate me) off at the airport and was back on my way home, when I came across this dream catcher, surely sent by Trash Angels to bring comfort to all droolers.

The local "airport" is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you have to drive through these really shitty towns to get there. I almost ran off the road when I saw this piece of absolute fucking shit. And it's really a shame that I didn't, because some snake handlin' Pentecostals were just getting out of church and I probably could have taken out a few dozen of those miserable pigs.

Have you ever noticed that the men that run these disgusting cults are always sporting shit eating grins, while their sad slaves wives always look like Terri Schiavo on a bad day. I might find it particularly hard to smile if I was dragging one of those butt fucking ugly denim ensembles around.

Anyway, I pulled off the road to take these pics and I kid you not, this dream catcher was the size of a goddamn trailer. I sat in front of it for hours, hoping that it would catch all my shitty karma, but by the number on the scale this morning at the doctor's office, it's not working.

I know this...

shit is old news, but in case any of you didn't see, I'm going to post it anyway. This kid is fucking awesome. He's from a really shitty town that's not that far from my own disgusting dump of a hometown.

Sometimes our country can be so fucking white trash, and by sometimes I mean almost all the goddamn time. It's nice to see this kid standing up for something so important.

Being on the wrong side of history is white trash and the hijacking of the Republican party by ultra white trash Christian Evangelicals was a really hot move. These pigs are beyond boring. I can understand the whole not wanting to pay taxes thing, but everything else is really involves fucking those that need it the most.

And speaking of boring fucks, check out the really hot license plate above. Can you see what it says? It says, "RU4GOD?" WTF is wrong with these drooling pigs?!?! What I'm for, is for you to mind your own goddamn business and shut the fuck up.

As some of...

you might know, I'm obsessed with really disgusting maladies like yeast infections, crabs, etc. The vagina (mysterious rotting lady cave) has always bewildered me. So, when my lady friends tell me that something really fucked up with their lady parts, I lap it up (cute pun).

Anyway, during a conservation on the topic of yeast infections, my lady friend told me a story about her grandmother. Now, for a little background, this is one of those trashy granny's that I absolutely die for. You know, 4 packs of cigarettes a day, farting in public, always sporting disastrous hair compliments of some blind students at the local beauty school, a total class act.

Well, she told me that when her granny used to get yeast infections back in the day, that she would always treat them with some natural remedies. I asked her to delve deeper into these "remedies" and what she told me has me fucking ill.

So, when her granny had a bad case of rotten crotch, she would shove buckets of yogurt in her pussy. Are you fucking kidding!? Apparently, she believes that the "good bacteria" in yogurt would combat the bad shit gnawing on her beaver. Well, we have a big problem and I have a few questions.

1. Just how much yogurt are we talking about?
2. What was the method of delivery (knowing this lady, I'm thinking a snow shovel or an old ketchup bottle)?
3. How long does the yogurt stay in; days, weeks, months?
4. And how the fuck does she get it out? Cute queef.
5. And does she reuse the yogurt after her blowout?

This fucked up story really made my day and in the spirit of this nasty ass grandma, I'm going to attempt to recreate her adorable remedy. I'm thinking the 10th floor balcony of a hotel would be the perfect place to try out my experiment. Fuck, I hope there is a nativity scene below that I can aim for.

Thanks Melissa

I am currently...

under the influence of massive amounts of pain killers, enough to make Cindy McCain queef vicodin slime on her Sarah Palin voodoo doll. Thank God for strep throat. I must have gotten it from some bad truck stop dick all the volunteer work I do. Anyway, I haven't updated this piece of shit in forever and assumed that it was just about over.

However, some really fucked up gutterbutt shit has happened in the last few days and I feel that it must be shared with all my wonderful pigs.

And from now on, I'll probably only be able to update Trash Heaven once a week, if that. I'm sorry pigs, but I've decided to get another degree (my 10th). I'm mainly doing this to annoy several close friends. Secondly, as most of you are surely aware of, my debilitating depression keeps me from more traditional forms of employment.