Friday Thoughts and Links
Ed Hardy Hatdouches.
Still out there.
Still gravitating towards boobies like tractor beamed ‘Falcon.
Your humb narrs is well back into the Angeleno life. Mexican food. Herpsters drinking milkshakes ironically.
It may not be New York. That it most certainly isn’t. But like Hemingway in the islands, I make do with moxie and self loathing. I persevere. By plotting my long game return to New York.
Here’s your links:
So while I was on the east coast, I finally experienced the joy that is Five Guys Burgers and Fries. My experience went a little something like this.
Don’t get excited. It’s not a pear. It’s a tomato.
For those long time readers looking for an investment tip, now’s your chance.
Five Great Things Coopted by Douchebags. “Writing in public” for the win/loss.
Jay Leno. Still a huge douche.
Remember this clown? His name is “Horny Mike.” And he’s now on a new reality show on the History Channel. What does Horny Mike have to do with history? The same thing Flava Flav has to do with video hits 1.
Orange Bros. Yeech.
While Pear overload (fondle) is only reserved for SockWeek, nonetheless, you have been good:
Thems your pears. Go forth into the eve and rescue a hott. Or trip a ‘bag as he heads for the bathroom. For the Weekend is upon.
As a credit to ‘Sock and a bunch of train wrecks you just can’t stop staring at – Can we open a Closet of Balloon Squeaks and christen it with shiny stretch bewbs, above, and pro’lly Mary Mammageddon?
Train Pear would be very nice in librarian glasses sipping on Cymbalta-laced champagne and bouncing her anal sphincter up and down on my sweaty cock and ballsack.
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I’m gonna get stoned this weekend. The crops are going into full flower early cause of the freakish weather.
RE: Bleeth in pic above. I know I’ve asked this before, but I’ll ask it again. Is Walmart doing plastic surgery now ?
Train Pear needs to allow me a close-up view of her fabulous caboose. I would nibble on her neck and fondle her boobies, too.
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Interview Pear, on the other hand, strikes me as replying to the interviewer, “OHHHHH MY GAWD, YOU JUST GOTTA ‘EAR THIS SHIT, ROIGHT?” I think it’s the hands. But I’d still lightly slap her cheeks to watch them jiggle. Just give me ear plugs.
Where are Train Pear’s boobs?
Coopted by Douchebags’ best part: I’ve accidentally dropped three separate cellphones into three separate toilets in my life. This is an incredibly difficult personal record to achieve. Most people only need to fish a phone out of a toilet once to conclude, “Well, I’d better make sure I avoid situations where this is a possibility in the future.” Not this guy. I once threw my phone in the toilet as a panicked defensive maneuver when I was worried that it was going to fall into my sink.
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LOL
I would take Train Pear’s 8:15 into the city, I’m not sure what that means but I would definitely like to take care of her busyness.
Try not to look so stupid when there is a camera present.
Train Pear is quite awesome. Though I’m betting it was a bit “retouched”
Florida better look out, Isaac is headed there and he’s a bad mother… SHUT YO’ MOUF !
One’s back does not do that. And the shadows on the floor behind her were bent by the photoshopping. Rude.
Not only is Leno a douche, he’s wearing a Canadian Tuxedo (respect).
Boobie girl can tune my meat whistle all night long. Ed Hardy twit can bring us refreshments.
IMHO, Guitar In Public FTW/L. People on their laptops at least keep quiet. I have to actively sabotage the noise level at a party to keep Guitar Douche from starting a hippy singalong and spouting his bullshit.
Oh, and there’s also THIS
But Train Pear makes it all better. The connoisseur in me wishes they’d angle it just a tad more from the rear so we can get a full appreciation of the glorious 3D curve. But I’m not complaining. She’s a nice tall drink of water.
Rumors of a giant fuccen trade between the Dodgers and Red Sox are making my nipple hairs stand on end. It appears The Doyers are willing to take that shitbum Josh Beckett and Carl Crawford along with Nick “Can’t Hit My Weight” Punto to land Adrian Gonzalez.
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Wow. Just wow
badonkadonk
is what that is
That tomato was mad ripe, yo.
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I just self made in my pants a little thinking about how great its gonna be when tattoos are considered to be passe and ordinary. Sometimes its the only thing that keeps me going.
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Jay Leno’s chin pear for Hall of Pear. Happy Friday clowns.
@Mr. Biggs
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I’m with you on the guitar at parties. I just fucking leave or cause a ruckus. It’s been going on for generations:
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And Jay Leno bites hard.
I don’t know if any of you ever heard Mr Sinatra’s version of “Sweet Caroline,” and if you haven’t, consider yourself fuckin lucky. Now I am as big of a fan of Mr S as anyone, but that song is just flat out awful. And that Neil Diamond is a real prick, besides.
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The funny thing is when Frank recorded this tune he was gone on psilocybin tabs. Gone, I says. Joey Bishop had one of those “tabbers,” which was a machine that made little acid tabs that the hippies would take. Joey got it from one of the Giancana goons who was on loan to Sinatra every now and then. The goon, Philly Knuckles, took the tabber from some long-hairs who were into the Family for about 30 large, but couldn’t pay up. He didn’t know what it was and when Joey saw him putting it into the trunk of his car, he was all over it.
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Joey Bishop loved hallucinogens and with the tabber machine was able to spread his special blend of psilocybin into the show biz scene, beside those hippy musicians. There was this group of long hairs, the Almond Brothers or some-fuckin-thing like that, who dropped about 5 large a month on what Joey called “Orange Sunshine,” and after a while Frank, Dean, Sammy and the gang all got turned on to the tabs. Now me, I’m a bourbon on the rocks kind of guy, so I steered clear of that stuff. Except for this one time I took one of those little tabs, and the next thing I knew I was balls deep in Eartha Kitt. Balls deep, I says.
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So anyways, Liza Minnelli and her sister Lorna Luft show up at the studio where Frank’s recording with three vials of some choice Peruvian Flake but the guys are already Gones-ville on Joey’s Orange Sunshine. Liza was a real sharp looking dame back then, before the pills and too much Moolie dick ruined her looks. Moolie dick, I says.
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At the time I had no idea who her sister Lorna was. Most people didn’t. She was like the retarded Kennedy; everybody knew she existed, but nobody knew who the fuck she was. So the girls can’t figure out why nobody’s paying any attention to them. Liza being a big star, moves on, gets a bump with the Peruvian Flake and drags one of the studio go-fers, a colored guy we called Dirty Mo, into a closet for some schmeckle in the ditch action. Schmeckle in the ditch, I says.
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Meanwhiles, Lorna is making buttons because she’s being ignored and she’s really buzzed. She turns to me and says, “Don’t you know who I am, I’m Lorna Luft, Sid Luft’s daughter!” To which I says, “Honeys, not only don’t I know who you is, I wouldn’t know Sid Luft if I was pissing on him.” Pissing on him, I said.
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With that I kiss her and stick my tongue down her troat, and she grabs my joint and it’s off to the races. So I’m bangin’ the Lorna broad right there in the green room while Frank is trippin’ balls on Joey’s Orange Sunshine whilst recording the awful fucking tune, and the other guys is off their tits on the tabs and Liza is schtupping a Titsune in a fucking closet. Whatta night!
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That song sucks, though. And Diamond is a prick, I says.
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This just in….I found my favorite DoucheyWallnuts tale. Sorry Neil Diamond but its kinda the truth you low-rent Tom Jones, Barbara Streisand duetting, bouffant wearing prick.
A+ DW. Made me cry I was laughing so hard. Post of the Week
DW’s latest tale reminded me of something…..utterly frightening…..
Good grief Wheeze! Well, you warned us, this is true.