Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Pukecoat
Kim Chee’s asian supple milkshake taut boobal spackle in presence of Joseph is classic Vegasian Tuesday. Together they form a hypoallergenic short bus of stubbled wrongness in a Porsche driving into light pole, Commando style.
Yup.
No idea what I’m saying anymore.
Your humble narrator is in New York City. The city of dreams. Of inspired Woody Allen and Spike Lee movies, and craptasticly craven Jay-Z anthems.
Much pizza will be consumed. Oh yes. And bagels. Cuz that’s how Jews roll. And by roll, I mean bulky.
I like the tattoo of the 4-slice toaster on his chest.
I thought it was a grenade, or old school microphone. Either way he loses, unless he gets into that hookers pants. OR, maybe she’s not a hooker and he ordered her shortly after he was honorably-discharged and instead of taking his undiagnosed PTSD out as a random act of bloodshed, he took it out on himself and inked his tormented thoughts on his torso in a manner of externalizing his mental camo from his id to ego. Thank you for your service Sir and that is a good choice you made when you hired your “nanny.” And good job helping that brave young man groove back into society Veteran’s Affairs you didn’t fuck up this one time. And thank you George 43 for ruining the economy. USA! USA!…….
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Freuds
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And as my pappy used to tell me: Montreal Greek pizza will kill NY thin pizza anyday. And a Hebrew bagel baked in Montreal properly soaked and boiled before baking by the Rabbinical Monks invading the city, set aside for a day by the urinal in the late-night deli, used as wipe by a hobo and clutched out of a dumpster is still tastier than one of those dry, dusty NY bagels accompanied by a generous dill schmear, loks, and capers. Just sayin’. No homo.
boo hamen
btw, I think me love you long time is handing out Groupons
Nothing ruins a nice manly full-torso tattoo like a little girl’s tiny pink nipple.
I’d chow her mein.
I’d General Tso her chicken.
I’d egg her foo young.
I’d moo sho her shrimp.
She’d teriyaki my beef.
She’d put the bone in my sparerib.
I’d sub gum her chow fun.
Gimme sum o’ dat!
That snake is going to bite his nipple off, he kind of reminds me of a douchey Slim Goodbody. Simply put I would do her hard from the front and back.
fkin Hard Rock
I’d Kung her Pao
I’d miscegenate with her.
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Mormons
I’d Sichuan her lo mein into some chow fun.
I’d Peking her duck.
I’d char siu her great baos.
I’d moo goo her gai pan.
I’d do her in much the same way as all previous posts have suggested, although I’d wanna be certain she didn’t allow whitefish Joe to deposit any of his rancid, felching cream cheese into her bagel.
I’d balut her rijsttafel.
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.Wait, what?
I’d hoisin her sauce.
I’d fortune her cookie.
I’d kalbi her bulgogis.
I’d pickle her cabbage
Ooooooh, Kim – let me knock aside the rainbow-colored splash of poomp that is lingering near you, and wash your sweet, delectable body clean with my tongue…………
Kim Chee’s asian supple milkshake taut boobal spackle in presence of Joseph is classic Vegasian Tuesday…..No idea what I’m saying anymore.
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I must agree – if it messed with your head that much, Boss, considering today is Wednesday, then I gotta say this coupling is at least up for a Weekly run.
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Pi eaters
Is this dickhead a reject from that redonkulous “reality” TV tripe Ink Master? I mean what posses you to just get random tatts in random places on your body? He reminds me of Rodney in the pro shop when he wlkaed into the tattoo parlor. I’ll bet this glory hole emcee causes fistfights when he walks in because the artists just know he’ll be burning a hole in that credit card.
He actually didn’t do too bad, save for that failed attempt at a coverup on his shitty tribal armband. Jock tribals…worst thing to happen to tattoos, evar.
So I’m guess it went like this at the tattoo parlor…
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“Yeah bro, I had this dream last night about a snake that was singing Gun-N-Roses tunes through one of those old-fashioned microphones when all of the sudden his heart exploded so hard an eye flew out of his head and it fell into the ocean. Can you put all that on me for less than $30?”
God bless Rodney! God bless Rodney in Caddyshack!
I think I saw the 4-slice toaster thing in real life once. It was in this vending machine on the wall of the men’s room at Bugsy’s on W 25th.
Why would you put such a large microphone tatt on your chest when we don’t even know you as a singer? And the rest is just art tatt confusion,isn’t it?
Now all he needs is a bit of orange and he’ll be set!
Puking is sometimes referred to as “The Technicolor Yawn”.