Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Somewhere in Echo Park, A Pabst Blue Ribbon Goes Unopened…
Herpsters.
Still out there.
Still upset that Deadmouse performed at the Grammys.
Germanic Inga spanks me upon the bottom with a cherry flavored ruler. Because I have been bad. And because I am Jewish.
Holocaust jokes. Not just for herpsters anymore.
Unearned dog tags and duck lips and upside down number two sign make middle douche the douchiest if them all. Meg Ryan hott will remain Sleepless in Seattle on account of the burning in her loinage she will receive after sleeping with one of these two.
The Ironic Point is the herpster move of 2012.
these are the failed contestants on the reality show, so you wanna be a herpster idol who can dance while surviving on the insurance money your parents got when your brother totalled dad’s mid-life crisis. basically if i can tell by looking, before you even perform your obscure herpster talent which supposedly iconic yet ironically obscure pop culture queefs you are patterning yourself after in lieu of actually understanding and amalgamating the images into an authentic yet mockable retro hipster style, you don’t even get to perform your laughable talent. you know the one you chose because authentic swiss peasants somewhere cutoff from the rest of the world for much of the year developed some shit i never heard of to pass the time?
yeah sorry, these clowns failed cool, fake cool, retro cool,. and who says cool anymore class at the new cool school for social research into ways you pretend you didn’t wake up one morning and see your parents and grandparents and it scared the shit out of you, so you decided to be what they never were, to fuck with them, but not so much they stop sending you the money your brother got for you by dying with the bumper of dad’s cuda in his ear.
“big brother” x2
caliphs.
That’s the “Pull My Finger and Smell Poo,” pose.
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That Chris Kattan sure could pull Nazi Youth Hot Bleeths.
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I’m impressed with Inga’s posture. And by that I mean I’d love to ejaculate on her neck.
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This bears repeating, source of Herpster Virus. http://www.details.com/about/guerreisms
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Hump Dayists
Middle dude looks like Perry Farrell taking a money shot.
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Dude on the right looks just dim enough to be a test perp for the Taser licensing class
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Blondie looks like a Teutonic ball wrenching, 3 hour dick twisting, bliss filled, every orafice $100 good time in some Amsterdam hash district fuck hole. Plus 15% tip. Maybe 20%
Young pre-heroin Tina Weymouth is all right in my book.
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Geniuses of love
The douche on the right is a douche. Need I say more?
“Inga” my -inch cock!
That’s Captain Carter! But what the holy fuck is she doing with those bum-wipo douchie douches?
Captain Sam, I still see you in my dreams…
14-inch cock. 14.
GReatness name in baseball since “Asdrubal Cabrera: is Red Sox minor league pitcher, Stolmy Pimentel. …
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Say it as a mantra for your afternoon ohmmmmmm: “ Om Mani Padma Hum, Stolmy Pimentel
laziness observed on the point, but exuberant effort to twist your face into something that vile. My verdict, a high level of doucheosity. Not 4 prong high, but high none the less
I bet they taught him to make that duckface in the army…rrrrrrright.
She’s a bit hard looking for my taste. Mind you she’d still make me hard and as such is boneable, but it’d maybe it’d be hard work.
minus that first ‘it’d’.
Douche looks like he loves his job at the Ford plant. His buddy got him it there because he’s be perfect for the gig. All he has to do is sit in the car and it drives itself. If he can get out after it hits the wall, he gets paid. The bitch of it is that he’s lost all control of the muscles in his legs (hence why they are holding him up) and face. After another 100,000 crashes, he can afford to give him that snowball he’s always dreamed about.
^ he can afford the snowball she’s about to give him.
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fuccen tired
I bet Germanic Inga could easily take both of those herpster manleteers in a fist fight…….
Ooooh, Inga………put on some spurs and RIDE ME………
After you see the video that’s posted next, this picture won’t look so bad.
Ill take 3 classic douche poses for 800 Alex.
That is some mighty fine punch-face; haven’t seen duck-lips as perty as those in quite a while.
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Would you do me the honors of enjoying this tasty can of Miller Lite, Mr. Punch-Face-Tilted-Trucker-Hat-Stupid-Head? Ah, yes; delicious isn’t it my culturally impaired compadre. Great taste and less filing, couldn’t ask for more could you?
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What’s that? You’d like another? Of course. Now stand right there while I grab these rolls of nickles.
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Rolls of nickles? Did I say that? No, you misheard me. I said Die a horrible and excruciating death. Ha! Just kidding. Hey, are those huge, fake, tan, boobs jiggling over there while being doused with Grey Goose.
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Yeah, stare over there. No, no, don’t mind me…
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…Just gonna…
BLAM! BLAM! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
*blood choked whimpers escaping from the crushed larynx of Mr. Punch-Face-Tilted-Trucker-Hat-Stupid-Head*
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What? It was only a day dream. It felt so real, I could smell the metallic odor of his blood. That makes me sad.
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3:30pm is certainly not too early to start pounding bourbon; in fact, many would say that’s it’s too late to not have been drinking… (many = my delirious subconscious)
^SSS
You have to get at it much earlier if you want to hang with us. 3:30? By then, the Rev is on his second 12 pack. To go with 6 Percodans.
His limp visage and way he cocks his head with the duckface reminds me of Stephen Hawking, except waaaay more stupid.
@SSS
And that IS mighty fine punch-face. It almost looks as if someone took him up on it a few seconds before the picture was taken.
Speaking of PBR, ya gotta scroll down a bit…..
One word: Nipple. I can’t see anything else.
Yea but is duckface a herp? Dogtag says no (and probably his name in a language from somewhere he claims to be descended from).
LOL, Germanic Inga fantasies. FWAP!
It’s the Budget Carrie Keagan