Monday, June 20, 2011
Vegas Jake Approves of Roastbeef
Vegas Jake, so generically a standard issue Vegas rocker pud he blends in with the drapes, approves of the ‘Beefer and Nikita Twins winning the weekly.
Vegas Jake believes his chin fung differentiates him from the rest of the Vegas douchescrote. Vegas Jake is wrong.
Oh, Rebecca. How the beginnings of your soft pooch belly hint at porcupine dreams of sunlight clown slappy slap bacon bacchanal. I would ice cream your slather bobs with tempura tapas, and then glide softly betwixt your heaving bosoms with only a melted Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup for sustenance.
Even if there is Douchey Jesus bling atop your toppy top. I will forgive. Because the Douchadox contradiction means I am fallible.
Microscopic gnats are eating my pickles, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
@Hermit, somewhere someone is making a bad decision and I can’t stop them.
Gunt Happy Tail. Which is the new name of Darsock’s bass player, BTW.
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She has tweets of Antonio Villaraigosa’s hairy taquito on her cellie. True fact
<——– Idiot ……… tail = trail.
Somewhere someone is eating Kung Pao Kitten and I can’t do anything to stop them.
if that’s a bulls eye on his forehead, then I’ve found a homefor the rusty rod of rebar I’ve been toting on my late night walks thru Inglewood
…if that’s a bulls eye on her boob, then I’ve found a home for the stubby flesh shiv I’ve been totin’ for a lifetime
The chin pubes are a nice touch. Some people have facial hair that is soft and well groomed and that doesn’t bother me so much. This guys facial hair looks like the ballsack hair from an aged breeding pig and probably smells of 10 days old chili dogs and funyuns.
she would be a nice substitute for Tiffany Amber Thiessen in my “Saved by the Bell” fantasy. Oh Kelly Kapowski, what does your taco taste like? Well, why don’t we just slip off those acid wash jeans and see?
What posseses one to buy a Jesus bling bikini? I think its time I hit the beach and start getting some answers. Wouldn’t people be offended if she was wearing a Star of David bikini or a Koran bikini? Yeah, that wouldn’t fly. But a Jesus bling bikini? Go right ahead. No biggie.
This guy would be okay if he just shaved the Captain Lou Albano beard. And I’m pretty sure M. Candidate’s assesment as to what it smells like is dead on.
I can’t imagine that mandana has an aroma that is anything short of taint sweat either.
Somewhere someone has just sharted after 5 minutes after eating an Arby’s® ‘Shroom & Swiss roast beef sangwich, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. It serves them right.
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Wankers
Somewhere Rev Chad is ripping bong hits of the Kind, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I kinda wish I still puffed.
Somewhere a small looming factory in Sri Lanka is in overdrive and the owner Mrinkan Subrahamaniamalingo is thinking of adding an extra shift in the small chance that they will be the one’s to supply the cheap wholesale fabric in windfall yardage for Nancy Dreuch’s test bling bikini.
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Omar The Tent Maker
Somewhere in a dimly lit hotel room, off the strip, in Vegas Rebecca is using her soft pooch belly as a landing area for a dollop of some random dudes man-yogurt, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
^And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
Somewhere in an upscale suburb a Hott Milf is being throttled by the UPS® driver on the kitchen floor while her husband is playing golf at a company sponsored outing, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it and I approve of it.
Like with Tiger, sometimes ‘playing golf at a company sponsored outing’ isn’t ‘playing golf at a company sponsored outing’.
Somewhere someone is slow cooking a pork shoulder on their Weber grill using the indirect heat method, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m envious & hungry.
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Toadies
@Southern Scrotic
Well said sir, well said
Somewhere, in an upscale suburb, someone is putting their dads old Luxman SQ-507X SS Integrated amp out on the curb for trash pickup cause it’s old and looks funny, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it and It PISSES ME OFF!!!!!!.
@Et Tu 10:54-
Somewhere, Hunter Leibowitz is on a golf course getting all pissed up on Heinekens, bragging to his buddy how he is going to go home and eat out his wife’s “Pristine” taco.
Somewhere in Vegas some Anthrax fan is angrily mocking Vegas Jake for his weak approximation of guitarist Scott Ian’s beard theme, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it nor do I care to.
Somewhere someone is enjoying a triple decker bacon sandwich wrapped in additional bacon and they don’t even have the common decency to text me pics of it. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
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@Et Tu 10:54a, hmmm I need to see what I can do to get on that UPS route. Stephanie told me this kinda thing goes on but I need to see it, erm, first hand. If you will.
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Debutaints
@ Manduchian
The sad thing is by the time Hunter Leibowitz gets home he’ll be too drunk to eat said taco and Mrs. Leibowitz knows this. As a matter of fact she & the UPS® driver have moved on to the living room couch for a quick round 2 before he has to get back to his route. Fact!!
Somwhere, Scott Ian is thanking Et Tu Douche for the reference. It has been a while since the boys from ‘Thrax have gotten a lot of mention.
_
Somewhere, a UPS driver is showing Mrs Leibowitz “What Brown can do for you.”
Somewhere, in an upscale suburb, a bitter, haggard neighbor has been peeking out of her window and wondering why the new summer intern UPS® driver has been spending an inordinate amount of time lately at the Leibowitz house across the street. And there isn’t a damn thing she can do about it cause she’s a hag.
Vegas Jack rents out his Taliban beard to the Golden Glitter to be used as Cher’s merkin for her portrayal of Joan Rivers pummel fucking retired linoleum salesmen for her AARP matinee show
Somewhere Mrs Leibowitz is teaching the young UPS® driver “What her Brown-eye can do for him.”, and there’s not a damn thing he’d rather be doing else”
Someone in an upscale suburb, a drunken letch with a skateboard hoarding problem is trying to unhear Anthrax, and I can’t do fuck all about it.
Somewhere 2 of the members of a legendary grassroots trio The Folksmen wait patiently for their bass player to show up…but
Mark Shubb ain’t ever comin’ back…
Somewhere an Amish-beard sporting douchebag is feigning interest in a young woman but in fact he’s only into her for one thing…her pooch beef.
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It’s gunt to break her heart.
if he could braid that thing to Kirstie Alley’s pelt & walk on his hands…that would be agreat look
I’m poking out my mind’s eye right now, creature.
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Belvedere.
When your calves and wrists have the same circumference, you need to hit a gym.
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When your chin fung looks like you got a patch of yeti thatch stuck to your bottom lip, you need to have your face shoved into a blender.
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And last but not least. When your ‘do-rag looks like a it-don’t-hide-the-“male”-pattern-baldness-and-can’t-even-be-bothered-to-paste-some-of-the-shit-from-my-chin-onto-my-head-rag, you should be forced to serve hamburgers at Ayman al-Zawahiri’s promotion party.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
That’s baseball, you hockey pucks.
Nothing worse than a smelly hippie.