By Malcolm Christiansen and Michael Rader

Malcolm: Sex! It’s fun, everyone wants it, and there are any number of ways to get it. But where can you go if you’re creepy, spastic, ugly, or just generally unfuckable? The Internet, of course! The Internet is choc-full of creeptastic homebodies hungering after a few sweaty minutes with the person of their choice; some of them are women, most of them are men, and they’re all downright terrifying!

Lucky for you, TLG is on the front line, keeping you safe from scary old men who want to fondle your parts by making ass-fun of the terrible personals they post. For every installment, two TLG contributors will make accounts on one of the many dating sites that populate this web of ours, be immediately inundated with moist fuck-mail, and reluctantly pick out several choice profiles to riff on.

In this inaugural installment of TLG’s newest feature, Michael and I will be examining Seeking Arrangement, a charmingly upscale little slice of webspace dedicated to connecting hot, lazy, young people with rich, horny old people in a process that is just this side of prostitution. In other words, it’s where sugar daddies come to find sugar babies, and that means some truly alarming personals. Let’s jump right into it!

“Muy intersante!  Verdad?”

Michael: Oh… oh man.

Michael: He’s almost 70.

Malcolm: The description of the type of arrangement he wants is what terrifies me the most.

Malcolm: “Satisfying.”

Malcolm: That could mean any number of gruesome things.

Michael: It could mean pumicing his feet for all these unassuming women know.

Malcolm: Or it could mean feasting thrice nightly on the blood of virgins pure.

Malcolm: He looks almost a little too proud of that boat, you know.

Malcolm: I am willing to bet all the cash in my wallet that it was carved from the bones of orphans.

Michael: “I will expect you to fuck the boat. Fucking the boat is a must.”

Michael: “And I will watch.”

Malcolm: “Fucking not of the boat will have consequences. The boat will ANGER.”

Malcolm: “The boat will fuck YOU.”

Michael: Was the boat made in Soviet Russia?

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Tags: boners, creepy, Don't Fear The Creeper, intoxicating wealth, Malcolm, Michael, Nonfiction, old men, petty classist revenge, Pictures, really bad idea, sex-clouded judgement

By Michael Rader

I began attending bible camp during the summer at the earliest age possible, 8, and started working there at 13. My memories of camp at an early age are fuzzy at best and completely missing at worst. I’ve never been able to pay very much attention to my surroundings; often I was completely absorbed in doodling, flicking pieces of paper into the smelly kid’s hair or reading Song of Songs* and wondering what it was like to touch a boob. A girl boob.

Pictured: Girl boob, flourishing in its natural habitat.

All I recall from my first year is that I couldn’t remember my camp counselor’s face or name and often wound up in the wrong groups for activities, I vaguely remember getting hit in the face with a pillow and breaking my glasses, and I every so faintly recollect having a friend, “His name was Matt…or Mark…or something with an M,” I explained to my mom. She never could understand why I wanted to go back every year.

My third year at camp I got lost during a nature hike on a sheep farm.

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Tags: a girl boob, boob, boobs again, ginger boobs, ginger kids, girl boob, have we mentioned boobs yet, Micheal, Nonfiction, our top story tonight: boobs, the boobs of girls, this just in: boobs

Truth be told, I merely 'wuv' texting.

Disclaimer: All horrible text messages are entirely SIC, all spelling and grammatical errors have been left intact. I have not changed any names to protect the innocent; however, I have not changed my own name so who will protect me from the innocent?

Very recently I changed my phone number. Not because I meant to, but because the employees of Alltel are hilariously incompetent and couldn’t understand what I meant by wanting to renew an already existing contract and instead signed me up for an entirely new contract.

I soon discovered that the previous owner of my phone number was a rather popular person who apparently didn’t like her old friends enough to inform them of his/her new number.

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Tags: creepy perverts, cybersex, fucking with people, Micheal, mind games, Nonfiction, pregnancy

My job has essentially been the same for four years now, I sit on a chair for 8 hours in front of a computer eating Chex Mix and drinking Mountain Dew. I also turned 21 sometime during my employment and I began living on nothing more than Chex Mix and beer while at home. That’s also not to mention Filth I have put in my body for this very website (Now you got a lawsuit on your hands, Malcolm.). Needless to say, I am not in the best shape, and I have recently found myself gasping for air after menial tasks like bringing the mail in and climbing into bed.

So I discussed the possibility of getting a membership to our local YMCA with my wife, the conversation went something like this:

Me: It seems I’m a little out of shape…

My Wife: Yes you are.

Me: Well, I was about to say maybe I should get a membersh…

My Wife: Yes you should.

Above: Everything I need to enjoy.

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Tags: Cracked, Cracked Forums, fitness, hairy men, locker room, meat sandwich, Michael, michael showing his penis to children, Nonfiction, YMCA

I don’t have a deadline, technically.  Rather, I have a sinking, depressed feeling as the end of the month draws nearer and I realize The Last Gaffe will have gone nearly a month without my wit, charm and pictures of me eating things (next month I plan to write an article about eating an entire wedding cake by myself.)  It is now nearly two weeks after the beginning of the month and Malcolm is threatening to kidnap and kill my Tamagotchi if I don’t deliver an article, the problem?  My article failed.

I won't let the bad man take you, Tamagotchi.

The development of my article didn’t begin until the last week of January when I began to get that sinking, depressed feeling again.  I desperately ransacked my old blogs to see if I had written anything funny in the past that I could use, but unfortunately Malcolm (A.K.A. Captain Hardass M.D.) didn’t think poetry dedicated to the cute girl who doesn’t even know I exist and long, depressing posts about how lonely Boulevard of Broken Dreams makes me feel were up to par for The Last Gaffe.   “Good Lord!” I told him, “You let a woman and an Irishman write for you, don’t talk to me about standards!”

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Tags: dicks, failure, grovelling, Michael, Nonfiction, penitance

15. “BooKoo”

It’s hard to say anything against BooKoo since the drink is so damndedly tasty, but we’ll come right out and say it: their name is terrible.

For those who aren’t Francophones, BooKoo is a bastardization of the French word for big, beaucoup; however, instead of making us think “big” we think “clowns,” and clowns are spooky.

Iiiiiiiiiit's BooKoo the clown!

14. “Blow”

Despite being a clear rip-off of the much more popular and controversial energy drink Cocaine, Blow also lends itself to some all too obvious jokes we’re far too classy to print.

We will; however, give Blow extra points for actually being sold as a vial full of white powder which you mix with water. That’s pretty cool.

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Tags: clowns, dicks, energy drinks, Lists, Michael, retardation, terror

The early teenage years of my life were a gastrointestinal nightmare of Lovecraftian proportions; unnamable, greasy horrors lurked and slithered through my vital organs on a daily basis. It was not uncommon to find me spending entire weekends eating nothing more than McDonald’s double cheeseburgers, five per meal, my young and virile gut swollen with dubious meat stuffs. However, those days are past me; I am no longer a young pup; I am old, cranky, and my digestive system doesn’t seem to work quite right. I have now reached a compromise: I will eat the scientifically delicious food, but only in moderation.

Why do you need to know the dull, needlessly detailed history of my eating habits? Because this article is about my experiences with tackling the ominous Wendy’s Baconator, and I presume that, since you are on the internet, you think nothing of eating a Baconator. Perhaps you eat several Baconators at once and they are stacked on top of one another, perhaps your jaw unhinges and you are able to stuff the entire thing in your mouth at once like Norville “Shaggy” Rogers. You will read this and scoff at me for being intimidated by a mere ¾ pounds of meat, but know this: I am a man who eats normal things like salads and ¼ lb hamburgers, and this will not be easy for me.

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Tags: battlestar galactica, dicks, eating, horror, Michael, michael shoving meat into his mouth, Nonfiction, vorophilia

So over in the Cracked forums, someone posted a link to this Reader’s Digest article, entitled “19 Ways To Enhance Your Sense of Humor.” It’s all well-meaning advice, and you could certainly do worse than following some of it, but for every piece of sound advisement there’s something like this:

“10. Spend 15 minutes a day having a giggling session. Here’s how you do it: You and another person (partner, kid, friend, etc.) lie on the floor with your head on her stomach, and her head on another person’s stomach and so on (the more people the better). The first person says, “Ha.” The next person says, “Ha-ha.” The third person says, “Ha-ha-ha.” And so on. We guarantee you’ll be laughing in no time.”

Michael and I, our senses of humour in desperate need of enhancement, decided to give some of their suggestions a try.  First, Michael fired up Photoshop and gave this suggestion a go:

“6. Sort through family photographs and write funny captions or one-liners to go with your favorites. When you need a pick-me-up, pull out the album.”

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Tags: Cracked, Cracked Forums, dicks, humour, Malcolm, Michael, photoshop, reader's digest, Scripts, terror