Thursday, June 14, 2012
Dieselcrotch Says, “Look at My Diesel Crotch!”
The Giggling Gigli Triplets giggle and politely decline.
Hours later, the bedroom on their rental cottage smelled like mothballs and patchouli.
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Not the perfect hotts, but certainly a perfect blurb.
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“Blurb” I says.
That’s a lot of female gsr, and very little bottoms on a couple of these tenderoni.
Woah.
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Back again is the alien boatbag’ from tuesday.
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Let me advise Pocahontas / Starsky-and/or-Hutch hott that commingling with alien invaders tends not to work out well for native americans.
Hiawatha semi-hott on right makes me wanna go back in time to ingest some mushrooms whilst pondering the meaning of ancient cave drawings in Colorado all the while trying to get her naked for some post, circa 1985 Grateful Dead @ Red Rocks, frivolity in a tent at the nearest KOA® site.
Mothballs and patchouli in the morning smells like VICTORY!
Turning 24 yesterday Mary-Kate and Ashley decided to take some chances. And by chances I mean sex with an alien boat dude and a meth mouthed native named Flower. Watch out for those teeth girls, she’s a raker.
Who wears underwear under their swim trunks? That douche and incontinent toddlers.
^That was me.
It is a good idea to get all relevant medical information, allergies, blood type, emergency contacts, important phone numbers and such tattooed on your oblique just in case.
Douche to Tattoo Artist “Um it really doesn’t matter. The chicks I bang can’t read anyways. Just make it sure the margins are 1″ on each side.”
I know this is really vague, but a couple of months ago there was a cackle of three or four of these that was either the same girls, or they watch all the same TV shows & movies.
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And since they’re all young, and female, I find them all very attractive.
Is that Pacman on his junk?
@DH, a cackle of bleeth? Do they all watch The Bachelor and do they all love any movie that dreamboat Ryan Reynolds is in? I think I saw those girls too. Everywhere.
@Mayor, no, its one of the ghosts.
Nice tat, dumbarse. Can’t you just get a Medic Alert bracelet to advertise your STDs like normal people?
WTF is the entire Book of Moron doing inscribed on his rib cage?
Not true. Everyone knows the Book of Moron is a picture book.
Are they really going out with him?
Just gonna state the obvious – he looks like he pisses Mountain Dew, and just had an accident.
I’d rather check out Fauxcahantus’ crotch out…just sayin’
It looks like someone graffitied up a perfectly good bro-bot. I hope they can sand blast that stuff off.
He’s got the Douche’s Creed on his rib cage:
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I am a douche. There are many like me, but I think I am special.
My douchiness is my best trait. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
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My douchiness, makes me completely useless. Without my douchiness, I am useless. I must spray my AXE true. I must douche it up more than my bros who are trying to out douche me. I must out douche them him before they out douche me. I will…
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My douchiness and myself know that what counts in this war is not the negs wethrow, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make. We know that it is the bleeths that count. I will douche…
My douchiness is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its patheticness. I will keep my douchiness always ready, even as I am dumb and ready. We will become part of each other. We will…
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Before God, I swear this creed. My douchiness and myself are the defenders of my stupidity. We are the masters of our no one. We are the saviors of my life.
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So be it, until victory is America’s and there are no more of us, but peace!
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OOOORAH!
Bravo Doc B.!
Jailbait. It’s not just for frat parties anymore.
I think it’s actually the Declaration of Douchiness.
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When in the Course of electronic music festivals, it becomes necessary for one ass-hat to dissolve the tribal tatt arm bands which have connected them with another, and to consume among the alcohol of the cheapest, the separate and unequal station to which the Laws of Douche and of Douche’s feeling of entitlement, a void of respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the hotties which impel them to copulation.
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We hold these boobies to self-levitate, that not all men are created equal, that they are well endowed by their Personal Trainer with certain Anabolic Steroids, that among these are Clenbuterol, Methyltestosterone and the pursuit of Swoleness. — That to secure these bitches, Night Clubs are instituted among Men, deriving their just wattage from the playlist of the iPod, — That whenever any Form of Fist pumping becomes destructive of these beats, it is the Right of the Bouncer to yell at or to abolish it, and to institute new Fist Pumping, laying its foundation on such rhythms and organizing its beats in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their House and Dubstep. Narcissism, indeed, will dictate that Parties long established should not be changed for lame and transient city ordinances; and accordingly all rumors hath shewn, that Douchebags are more disposed to suffer, while fags in their mom’s basement are sufferable, than to fight each other by abolishing the hotties to which they are accustomed. But when a long weekend of bodily abuses and libations, pursuing invariably the same taut Hottie, evinces a design to frustrate them under absolute Rejection, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Lesbo Bitch Whores, and to provide new Guidettes for their future Cream Pie-ing.
Doc Bunsen and Jacques been into the bath salts. Protect your faces from the online Zombie Apocalypse.
Sack O’jamima is upset that she traded her virginity for a handful of glass beads. Magna Charter Douche is upset because he’d rather have his beads back.
Fucking hippie
Someone should tell you how ridiculous your tattoo looks of a page of words. Chinese script? A recipe? Directions to your house?
I never thought the Tendon Ted look would catch on….
grocery list tattoos are so 2005
Yeahman, underwear and swimtrunk combo is a first.
WTF?