Two-Button Biff is…The ClubRubber
Yeah, we’ve all seen this guy out on the town. Two-Button Biff chicken-necking to whatever’s blasting through the house system, wending his way through the fleshy pit trolling for skank around the 1 am mark, after the first barrage of free drinks has softened up the moistened beachheads of Southern Pants.
Then…he spots his prey…moves in for the chill…after floating out a string of increasingly crass come-on lines without rebuff, it happens: The Suggestive Forearm Caress. Don’t do it, Amber!
Fast forward to the next morning…the drafty walk of shame after Amber abandons the futile search for her panties, which he had the presence of mind to stuff behind the head of the mattress on the floor of the spare room of a brah’s pad he’s crashing at until that kiosk job at the mall comes through again. He will, after being ejected by said brah for not pitching in on, well, anything, take the several soiled trophies he’s stuffed between the grimy wall and lumpy mattress and tack them up on the wall of his old room at Ma’s house.
Then T.B.B. will shellac himself with axe, button them two buttons…and steer the Hyundai towards The Club once more.
A man who spends that much effort on his eyebrows is not into ladies. Just sayin’…
She has very awkward proportions. Like she’s being sucked into a black hole or something. Oh wait, now I see him.
“Amber’s” pantiless walk of shame was more embarrassing with his cock clearly visable, dangling below the hem of that little black dress.
Southern Pants is the name of my next Molly Hatchet cover band. Son. I loves me them shrimp and grits imitations at the Southern-Tex-Mex-Creole-Cajun joints up here. Aiiiyeeeeeeeeeee!
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So they made some money. Are you perfect? Son.
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What they really needed was to open for these guys!
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And this hot chick.
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The few of you are welcome. Son. I’m going to get stoneder. Maybe have a few low cal beers cause of the liver test in two weeks.
I know this woman. This photo is at an after party at this years special Olympics. A vagrant forced himself on Amber when she was nine months shy of her thirteenth birthday. Young Barnaby was her birthday gift. He came out “mentally defective.” But the boy could jump. He is the special olympic high jump champion. I know all this because I was the Dr. who delivered young Barnaby all these many years ago. And just so you know, he only has the manual dexterity to button two buttons. Please applaud his bravery.
@ Dr. Keydic he does seem slow, but I only think that is because he is giving the camara the eye of coitus interruptus. i dont think it is to be seductive though. I think he was horribly burned on the left side of his face by molten wax while getting his eyebrows sculpted.
Primping and preening in front of the mirror in an attempt to resemble your mom is no way to go through life, son
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She wants her Waterpik back, sans-anus hairs
She wants her tampon applicator back, sans-anus hairs
She wants her Rabbit back, sans-anus hairs
She wants her Ball Whisk back, sans-anus hairs
She wants her Ronco™ Pocket Fisherman back, sans-anus hairs
I bet you a ho ho he knows the donk.
Yes, he knows the donk – biblically speaking.
There ain’t no more ho-ho’s.
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Hence DB1’s coma…
What a facking goof. I think I just shit my pants with the shame of being on the earth at the same time as this eyebrow sculpting donut facker.
He swipes the panties for himself to wear on those lonely nights when he ate too much turkey and is in a food coma.