Tattoo Mugshot Madness

You know, i've always thought about getting a small tattoo, you know, maybe a cute bunny wabbit on my butt, or maybe 'I love my mom' on my upper arm - But these criminals have clearly decided no to take the 'subtle' approach!

More evidence (as if any was needed), or maybe it's some last-minute revision of the inextricable correlation between the ambient temperature and the attractiveness of the native females. Hot weather = hot women. Fact.

If the subways around here were even a fraction of how cool this is, no one would mind taking it! Even graffiti artists would probably not touch it. It is truly impressive.

They are out there. Waiting. Looking for any oppertunity to get into one of your personal photos and spoil them with their own special brand of posing. Be it a weird face, body part, or god knows what. Fear them.

Are you worried that you're a little bit on the untidy side? Really? Believe me, you're nothing compared to these people. If untidy was akin to a punch in the arm then these offenders would be standing trail for mass murder.

Do you ever wonder sometimes that if there is a god, why in 'his' name did he only make the weekend last for 48hrs? I mean, i know we are meant to spend Sunday honoring his existence, but that leaves no time to look at stuff like this!

This weeks dump is huge. Seriously massive. If it was an actual dump it would need to be delivered by c-section. 120 pictures deep it's not for the fair of heart. Your clicking finger is about to enter the RSI danger zone. Enjoy.

The onslaught on invading innocent photographers subjects continues, do they hate us for being so incredibly good looking? It's time to draw a line in the sand. You're either with the pouters or you're with the photobombers.

Some of these are really creepy and all are WTF? Makes you wonder how the heck someone could get some of these things inside them!

Everyone knows that Power Rangers and the shambling undead are mortal enemies, but this is the first time I've seen their everlasting conflict depicted in the form of an impromptu flashmob. Sterling work, chaps.

How is it that your phone always decides to go into troll mode whenever you're either texting parents, loved-ones or in the worst case, the wrong person. Some serious casualties of the iPhone auto-correct nemesis.