Thursday, September 22, 2011
Ask DB1: Floristery?
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DB1,
Is floristry a douche vocation?
While I love a bloom as much as the next bloke I’d always considered it the least desirable choice of vocation for a douche to enter.
I guess discounts on fairly impressive arrangements would be a bonus, especially when compared to the horrid bunches sold at convenience stores. A regular stream of WooHotts browsing the bouquets must also be an added attraction, but I’m still not convinced.
– Tall Guy
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I like turtles.
FAT DUDE LOOKS TO DRUNK TO REALIZE THERE ARE HOTTIES AROUND
Every male florist I’ve ever known has been gayer than a day in May.
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.Gayer than a Justin Bieber butt plug….
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….and gayer than using Justin Bieber as a butt plug.
Does it get any gayer than that?
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.Discuss.
He’s got a video camera, and he’s with porn chicks or whores or something. Unless someone knows otherwise, he ain’t gay.
…But none of them were douchebags.
@ tall guy, male flourists, hair stylists and dudes with little dogs are typically gay. Of course they’re are a few exceptions. It would be a solid way to meet the ladies though and also appear sensitive (chicks dig flowers) if you can take the ribbing from your guy friends. So I say go for it tall guy! If anyone can pull it off its you.
Man, it reeks of skank in here. You should smell my finger….
As for the picture, common sense would dictate that two of these people are being paid to be there, while the third paid to be there.
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Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems
Man Kid Rock sure let himself go these past few years. But, he can sure pull the hotts?
This photo is the epicenter of Fugly
OK, for those out there that can name them on site, who are these porn chicks? The one on the right must specialize in eating tubs of Jello because she’s got a whole lot of shakin’ goin’ on.
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Damn, missed the Jerry Lee Lewis joke.
Chunked up skanks with prison ink, oozing sores, and STD’s previously unknown to science will have you thinking seriously about an alternative lifestyle every time. I know that I’m gay now.
And so the 2011 Jersey cholera outbreak begins
A surprisingly spry Larry Flint holds auditions for Wild Things II: Electric Boogaloo. I think he’s got the Neve Campbell (on the right) and Denise Richards (left) nailed. By nailed, I mean highly porny doppelgangers.
The definition of “Hot Chicks” clearly is open-ended on this site lately……me thinks website guy needs to tighten up who/what qualifies as a hot chick as these two clearly are not!
@Tall Guy
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As long as your tool of choice is a chainsaw I see nothing gay about cutting and arranging flowers.
Good luck in flower school Tall Guy! Cheers
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^ I have no idea what Tall Guy is talking about.
AAARRRRRRRRRRR
@Vin
Check out previous thread, re Outlaw Country.
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These chicks are gross!!!!
As so well put by Patty Griffin who described this scene precisely, “All the strippers think you’re odd. But you leave the biggest tips.”
Are we confusing “douche” with “gay”?
Or could the question be rephrased to, “Is it douchey for a straight guy to enter a gay-dominated field simply to mac bleeths”?
Tall Guy’s use of the word “bloke” makes me believe that he may be familiar with Monty Python’s “Gumby Flower Arranging.” And there’s nothing douchey about that.
@ Dr. Bunsen 9:55
You took the words right out of my sphincter.
I have never ventured into a gentleman’s club in Toledo, OH before and now I don’t need to because I’m pretty sure it looks exactly like this.
bitchesbegettingsomedumbasstattoos.jpeg
This picture makes me nauseous (I hate spelling that word).
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Avast ye mateys
That is a europeeeenion hand bag
Did someone mention Jerry Lee Lewis? Great balls of fire!
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As in you’ll have a pair if you get “lucky” with either of those two. Better wear a full body condom, and get your shots.
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No the other kind of shots.
The girl on the left has possibly the single most stupid vacant look on her face of anyone ever shown on this site, and that says a lot. I think if I pulled her feeble brain out and shoved them it a gnat’s ass, it would roll around like a BB in a boxcar.
I’ve seen styrofoam cups with more sentient expressions.
I’m waiting for her to flash gang signs and say “But Brawndo has electrolytes!”
that eyeball tatt reminds me of The Beastmaster. I’m sure they’ll be re-making that soon.
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I have a feeling this pic was taken by John Largeman himself, during an escapade to the local VFW on mud-wrastlin’ night with his “slow” cousin.
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aaaaand Jorts.
Tall Guy,
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We must respect our humble, neighborhood florist who toils daily to make our world a little more joyful by bringing brightly-colored, botanical wonders into our otherwise dismal lives. Florists, like the honey badger, make a respectable living sniffing stamen and pollinating delivery boys in the darkened corners of refrigerated store rooms.
I once read an article about a non-gay florist who spent an uncomfortable night in a mountain top, Peruvian brothel suffering from malarial tremors. It seems that a small colony of wolf spiders had taken up residence in his polyester slacks.
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So beware, although indeed a noble profession, it is not one without it’s occupational hazards.
Fat Drunk Dude is far away in his happy place and he’s not thinking about turtles…he’s thinking about red snappers.
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These girls are so skanky they get flowers delivered by STD, not FTD.
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Yarrrrr! Is it Pirate Day or Week? Aye…Yarrr.
Morning and evening I watch ladies walk by my front door. They’re heading for the train station. Most are well dressed and some are attractive. Occasionally, I’ll seek the company of the masses and sit over an espresso in the posh local cafe opposite the train station up the road, where close by is a small florist’s shop. En route to doing an obnoxious thing for 8-hours and their own survival as well as somebody else’s profit, the ladies often stop off at the florist’s shop and smell the flowers. Then they head off again towards the centre of their lives. The mother’s breast. Their sun. The job. Lonely. Frustrated. Living mostly without sex and certainly without love, working at doing something they probably hate. Too scared to look at my face or into eyes for fear I’ll assume they want sex with me. But off they go, either to the cubicle of work or to the cubicle of rest, where they’ll eat dinner, watch TV, phone Sheila, smear their faces with cream, set the alarm and sleep. Because tomorrow, or next week or sometime real soon, he may walk in.
I was given a flower once by a short, fat, blond chick. I was between failed marriages and was pretty hammered when she bought a single rose from some chick who was selling them in the bar. I hate flowers, but figured it was a clear sign that she wanted to screw.
I ended up bringing her back to my place. When we got inside she put the rose in a plastic cup of water and placed it romantically on the mantle.
I banged her briefly and drunkenly on my living room sofa and promptly fell asleep.
I awoke a short time later and she was still there. I looked up blearily at the clock above my fireplace and cussed silently, aware of the fact that I was supposed to work the next day.
She gazed lovingly into my eyes and asked, “Are you looking at the rose?” I answered, “No dammit, I’m looking at the clock, it’s fuckin’ four AM you need to get the hell out of here!”
She left in a huff.
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Some months later, my son had his new friend Dan over after school. Dan’s mom, I was told, would soon be picking him up.
Sure as hell, Dan’s mom was the Rose Chick.
You could have cut the awkwardness with a dull meat cleaver as we were introduced, acting as if we’d never met.
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I was filled with profound and absolute shame, but fortunately, never saw her again.
tall guy,
You are living in Waterloo Sunset.
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McCrude’s advice: borrow a cute puppy and bring THAT with you to the cafe. Smile and look totally smitten by the cuteness of your prop. Trust McCrude on this.
Uh, Hermit? I hate to ask this but is your son and Dan related? I sure hope not.
I can second the puppy angle. Something fuzzy. Corgi pups work well but they are a pain in the ass when they grow up. Took one to watch fireworks once and had a half dozen 20somethings on the blanket goo gooing over the little furball for the hour before the show started. Life was good back then.
@tall guy, here’s what worked on me, and I’m a pretty tough nut to crack. Invite her to meet you for coffee. Especially if she already works in a coffee shop. Make sure the coffee shop you’ve agreed to meet at is closed that day. If you find out shes a germophobe, make sure to pepper the conversation with words like cancer AIDS and needles. Make sure to do some background Google search on her before you meet up. Maybe find out her Dad had skin cancer because of an article published about him. Work this info into your routine. Do not pay for anything. Entice her back to your place. Go in through the garage with her. Do not turn on the lights. Say you need to go in through the front door. Leave her in the garage in the dark for awhile. I’ll leave the rest up to you, tall guy. Trust me when I say this works. I was only mildly traumatized for a year or so after a date like this but I still think it was worth it.
Funniest photos on this site. Looks like a guy left over from Octoberfest,with two strippers taking a break from the pole.
What a fun group.
i like beryllium, cadmium, and lead.
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i don’t like inhaling them though.
I don’t know what is going on in this photo, but it makes me want to take a hot bleach bath. And it took a double take before I was sure that the fat douche in the middle was not the Ex-Mr. Oblongata. Those kind of shoe scrapings are exactly what he’s going for these days. No wonder he wouldn’t give me the time of day while we were together. I’m not a pageant winner, but I neither resemble a bag of applesauce nor a stoned easter lamb.