[insert witty title here]

Hi, I'm Danger Guerrero. I do not understand tumblr.

Anonymous asked: Quick Question: There is a gold heart-shaped keychain with "Miss New Booty" hand-stamped on it. This is a good wedding gift, yes?

Ummmm, I think you mean MRS. New Booty.

FYI: Air Bud’s children, who can talk and have been to space, have super powers now.

Proceed accordingly.

We few. We happy few.


My friend Katie sent me this tonight:

Yes, I definitely do. That’s because on the afternoon of Aug. 26, 2011, I was starting to hear from family members and friends that they wouldn’t be coming to my wedding.

There was only so much we could do when it became clear that Hurricane Irene was a really, really big deal, and that it would be sweeping up the East Coast and into the New York/New Jersey area on the 27th — which was, of course, the day toward which we’d worked and planned for the better part of the previous year. Everything was booked, the contracts set, the non-refundable deposits shelled out. Our immediate families had already started making their way to N.Y. for the rehearsal dinner. The venue was going to stay open barring an evacuation call by local authorities; the officiant and caterers were still in, too.

We knew for sure that our wedding was going to happen, but we also knew that it was going to be a very different day than the one we’d planned. The only question, then, was how many of the 150 or so* RSVP-ed guests would actually wind up making it**.

Read More

Yup. You go read.

Eh, Close Enough

From this article about panther sightings in Florida:

As of August 2013, the public had submitted 790 sightings to MyFWC.com/PantherSightings, where people can record when and where they saw a panther or its tracks, FWC said.

“Only 12 percent of the reports included a photograph and could be evaluated by Commission biologists. Of those with photos, the majority were confirmed as panthers. Other animals identified by FWC biologists were bobcats, foxes, coyotes, dogs, house cats and even a monkey. Most often the reported animal or tracks belonged to a bobcat, when it was not a panther.”

Shoutout to the Florida residents who submitted pictures of house cats to a website dedicated to panther sightings. Can’t be too careful, that’s what I always say.

This video derailed my entire day.


Here’s Why I Think DMX Should Start A Restaurant…


[NOTE: For full effect, please picture this as a very cheaply produced commercial for a restaurant called X’s Bar And Grill, featuring DMX holding a spatula and wearing a “Kiss the Cook” apron and Swedish Chef hat]

Yeah, don’t get it twisted
This grill shit is mine, motherfucker
Fuck what you cooked
It’s what I’m grillin’
It’s what I’m grillin’ (Listen)
It’s what I’m grillin’ (Listen)
It’s what I’m grillin’ (Listen)

X gon grill it for ya
Fuck waitin’ for you to cook it on your own
X gon deliver to ya
Knock knock, open up the door, it’s real
With some burgers, hot dogs, and hearty meals
Your mom say she cook legit
But I make such a good steak
I’ll make a motherfucker wonder how I did it

Damn right and I’ll do it again
Next try a thigh of my Cajun chick-en
Flatbreads with your friends and me
And no matter how many cats you break bread with
I’ll feed who you sendin’ me

You motherfuckers still wantin’ something?
Like your wife said, y’all can pack it away
Stay sittin’ down (DOWN)
Cuz X got what you need
Rollin’ out the kitchen with some tasty treats (WOO!)
Please, if you haven’t sampled all my fresh-baked pie and cake
Come out today


This guy gets it.

This guy gets it.

Presented without context, although if you get a couple drinks in me I will give you all the context you could ever want and more.

Presented without context, although if you get a couple drinks in me I will give you all the context you could ever want and more.

Joe Biden Is Everything

From GQ’s profile of Joe Biden, please enjoy this delightful paragraph by Jeannie Marie Laskas:

Vice fucking president of the United States. You get the feeling Joe Biden would love to put it that way, to stand in a crowd of thousands in his aviators and say, “Yo, I’m the vice fucking president of the United States, y’all.” Which he has never said. But you think he might. That’s what’s funny. It’s a comfort level, and a mocking, and a kind of affection wrapped warmly into a knowing joke. Joe Biden. The tipsy uncle who actually doesn’t drink. He’s always dancing there on the edge of embarrassment. He’s that guy. He might put a lampshade on his head.

Read the whole thing. Highly recommended.